#one day i will afford that................

[doggiewoggiez]

still unable to access the money that'll save us from this hell. can't afford to live. we have food thank god but our bills are hitting. had to get a new phone cuz mine broke.

like that broken. i promise my new one was the cheapest my phone plan would give me.

it is degrading begging for pity and for money and i hate it but we still need help. im a couple hundred over drafted because of electric bill and we haven't even paid last months water. this upcoming electric bill will be high because we needed to use the houses emergency heating system during the last freeze (regular central heating is broken). phone service is gonna go out in two days if we can't pay it. please help us. if i had the energy to id make a better post but this is just killing me. I've been doing this nearly a year and I swear I'm trying so fucking hard to fix things and make it work. I'm sorry.

Please if anyone can help still...

PayPal - Kofi - Cashapp

[call-spoiler]

in 11th grade i was somewhat broke, and couldn’t afford to take the bus home from school. this was pretty inconvenient bc all the rich kids with their cars drove past and laughed at us. one day in second semester food studies, some dumbass was playing around with the frozen spinach bags and ended up pouring the liquid into a cup. he says to the class, “whoever drinks this gets 5 dollars.”

silence. everyone goes back to working. we all hate this guy.

i then realize five dollars is enough to pay for bus fare that day, and the next morning. going to pick up that glass of condensed spinach water and downing it was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my entire life. i hate spinach. must’ve gone green bc the teacher got really mad and sent me to the office.

still got my five dollars though!!

what is THE worst thing you've ever drank. all liquids acceptable. please tell me what it was, bonus points for why

[lessi-lover]

Paige taking care of reader when she’s on her period! Reader could have like a period disorder (i don’t want to name specific ones so you can choose) and gets super achy and sick when she’s on her period. They could be at an event maybe and reader gets super bad cramps, so Paige try’s to comfort her until they can get home and then when they do get home Paige is in full doctor mode trying to take care and help reader?

I know this might be a weird request so you can totally trash this if you want!

i got you ma II p.bueckers x reader

i got you ma II p.bueckers x reader 2.2k

the event was loud, packed with people and the bright lights overhead felt like they were boring straight into your skull. you’d been fine earlier, just a little tired, a little sore.

but now, the cramps were hitting you at full force, twisting through your abdomen like barbed wire. your whole body ached, nausea creeping up your throat, and the dizziness in your eyes made it hard to focus on anything but trying to stay upright.

you had always gotten bad periods when you were a teen. the kind that left you curled up in bed for hours, body aching like you’d run for days straight, the cramps hitting so hard you could barely even keep water down.

for years, doctors had brushed it off as something normal, telling you to take painkillers and wait it out. it was never normal, but your parents couldn't do anything but listen to the medical advice you were being given.

growing up, you never knew what it was like to have a “normal” period. while your friends seemed to get through it with just a little discomfort here and there, you were the one clawing at your desk, trying to breathe through cramps that felt like they were ripping your stomach apart. your sisters had just told you it was part of growing up, that it would get better as you got older. but it didn’t. it only seemed to get worse.

in high school, when you started playing basketball more seriously, the pain of your cramps started to affect your performance. you’d be on the court, trying to push through a tough game and suddenly your body would just give out. you couldn’t concentrate on the game or your teammates, you could only focus on getting yourself off the court as soon as possible.

eventually, after enough trips to specialists, you were finally diagnosed with primary dysmenorrhea when you turned nineteen. primary dysmenorrhea is caused by a chemical imbalance in the body, which causes an overproduction of prostaglandins, and in your body's strong attempt to rid the lining, it's much more painful than it should be.

you began learning how to work around it though. by the time you were at uconn, you’d become an expert in managing and listening to your body. you knew your limits and how to stay ahead of your pain.

you’d adjust your play with your trainers to prepare for the worst days of your cycle, always making sure to keep your body well rested and heard. on those tougher days, when the cramps were almost unbearable, you knew how to take care of yourself whether it was icing down, using heat pads, or taking painkillers.

you were prescribed medication to help manage the pain, but it came with its own set of problems. the meds worked, there was no denying that. they helped ease your cramps, the headaches, and your dizziness. but they also made you drowsy, tired, and slowed you down.

as a professional basketball player, those were the last things you could afford. being sluggish on the court was a game changer, but not in the way you needed, and you weren't about to give up your spot for some nonsense pills.

you tried taking them on off-days, on your recovery days, but even then, the tiredness lingered longer than you liked. it was hard to balance the benefits with the negatives especially when you needed to stay at your sharpest, always ready to give your best performance for your team.

so more often than not, you chose to skip taking the medication. your cramps would be unbearable at times, but it was easier to deal with than feeling groggy and uncoordinated when it mattered most. the meds made you feel like you had lost control of yourself, control you weren't about to give up. it felt like a decision you had no choice but to make.

you hadn’t taken your meds this morning. you couldn’t. not with the game this important. the pain was something you'd learned to deal with over the years. tuning it out, ignoring it, finding ways to get through the day without letting it affect you.

but today was certainly challenging you. your body was rebelling at you, no matter how much you tried to push it away, almost as if it was mocking you for being scared to take simple medicine.

you glanced at the bench, where you see cd notice the look on your face, the way you were clutching your stomach as you sat on the subs bench. you gave a small shake of your head and a smile, trying not to show how much it hurt. no time for weakness, especially when your spot could be taken in a second.

but as the final buzzer went off and the team huddled together in celebration of the win, you knew it was only a matter of time before the pain would force a takeover and you would be limping away from the homearena. the moment you got home, you'd be back in full recovery mode, heating pad on your stomach and trying to make it through the worst of it.

you'd been living with this for so long, managing it, hiding it. almost forgetting about if.

paige noticed immediately though. she always did. her hand was on your shoulder in an instant, her brows knitting together in concern. “hey, you okay?” her voice was soft but firm with you, she knew something was up but she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

you forced a small smile back, but the throbbing under your stomach was almost too much to hide. "yeah just a bit sore from the game." you muttered, but even to your own ears it sounded unconvincing. you were lying through your teeth and paige didn't buy it for a second.

she crouched down beside you, her eyes scanning your face, studying the way you were gripping your stomach. “you sure? cause you don’t look okay.”

you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breath, but the cramps were coming harder now, but you let go of your stomach as she looked down again.

you nodded quickly, refusing to show any weakness, refusing to let it be something that would cause paige to talk to your trainers. she could get you cut off from matches if they found out you were skipping out on your pain meds.

“seriously, i’ve got this. just need a minute.” paige raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical at how defensive you were being, but nodded regardless. “don’t push it too far. i’m watching you.” i nodded back, grateful for her concern but too stubborn to admit how drained i truly felt.

as the high of the game wore off. my energy had plummeted and my vision was beginning to blur. the room was getting tighter, the noises from the crowd booming, but my legs felt like they were made of stone and i stayed in place.

without warning, my knees buckled and i let my body fall. i couldn’t stop it. my body gave in, crumpling to the ground. i heard someone shouting my name as i felt hands on my shoulders, turning me onto my side as they called for help.

paige’s face was the first thing i saw when i blinked my eyes open again. concern etched deep into her face, though she was trying to mask it with a forcely tight lipped smile. “hey, can you hear me?”

i nodded, though everything felt like a blur and her words were slightly distorted. the stadium’s sounds were muffled and i could barely make out the voices of my teammates, but paige was the one who kept me grounded. her hands on mine, her voice gentle as she instructed me to focus on her.

“just breathe, okay? slow and steady with me.” her words were firm, but soft enough to comfort me as the panic set in.

it wasn’t long before the medics arrived, their quick movements barely registering in my mind as the blonde lowered me to the floor. paige kept talking to me, helping me focus on her breathing whilst she kept her hand on my my shoulder.

as the medics checked my pulse and asked me questions, i could barely get the words out in my state. the pain was still there, i could feel sharp knives digging into my back, but the dizziness in my head was worse.

my body felt heavy, like i was sinking into the cold gym floor of the arena and i couldn’t stop shaking. "what happened?" one of the medics asked, his voice calm but urgent as he pressed a cold towel against my forehead.

"she just dropped," paige answered for me. "she wasn’t feeling great after the game. she has dysmenorrhea, and i don't think she's been taking her medicine." the medic frowned, glancing between paige and me as they slid something soft under my back. “is that true?” he asked and i could feel paige’s eyes boring into me, waiting for me to say what she knew had been happening.

i swallowed hard, my throat dry and bitter, my body still trembling from the cramps. i didn’t want to admit it, but there was no point in lying now. paige had clearly already put the pieces together. i gave a small nod. “yeah.” i mumbled, barely able to even look guilty because i knew what i had been doing. “didn’t wanna take it before the game.”

"has this happened before?" the medic asked.

paige looked at me, waiting for me to answer, but i didn’t. i didn’t want to admit that, yeah, it had happened before. i’d pushed myself too far more times than i could count and i had ignored the warning signs until my body just gave out. "yeah," paige said when i didn’t speak. "she has really bad cramps. worse than normal."

i wanted to protest, to say i was fine, but i couldn’t even form the words. the medic pressed two fingers to my wrist, counting my pulse, while another checked my blood pressure. i could see my teammates lingering nearby, their faces blurred in my vision, their whispers blending with the distant sounds of the crowd still filtering out of the stadium.

paige let out a frustrated sigh, but there was no real anger in her face, she only ever worried about you. “you should’ve told me.” she said, shaking her head and looking up. “you scared the hell out of me.”

~

"you need to let me help, alright ma? we’ll get you home and get you taken care of."

you barely managed a nod before another wave of pain hit you in the stomach like a truck, making you hunch over slightly as you tried to walk out of the stadium. paige didn’t hesitate to help you, her arm wrapped around you, steadying you as she scanned the room. “we’re getting you out of here.”

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t. it's not like anyone would let you leave the arena by yourself, and paige wasn't about to just let you off. the ride home was a blur, you eyes were barely open but you could feel paige’s hand around yours, her thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. every time you winced, she gave you reassurance, promising that you’d be home soon.

as soon as you stepped inside your apartment, paige switched into full helicopter mode. she helped you change out of your clothes into thick pyjamas, guiding you to the bed and tucking you under a heap of fluffy blankets she had found. “okay, doctor p reporting for duty,” she announced, already moving. “heat pack first, then meds, and i’ll make you tea. do you think you can stomach something?”

you shook your head weakly, pressing the heating pad she handed you against your stomach as she returned with a glass of water and some painkillers. “just this for now.” she decided, watching to make sure you took them before brushing your hair back.

paige held your chin upwards to make sure you didn't spit them out, because even though you had agreed to take them she couldn't trust you anymore. “you’re burning up, babe. hold on.”

minutes later, she was back with a cool cloth, pressing it against your forehead as she gently massaged your temples. "your body is so important baby. if you won't take care of it like it deserves then i'll have to take care of it for you."

"you don’t have to," i murmured, though i didn’t pull away from her hand. my body was still too weak, too drained, but even if it wasn’t, i wasn’t sure i wanted to. i let my heavy head sink back into the pillows. she huffed. "of course i do. you think i’m just gonna stand by and watch you neglect yourself?" her voice softened, fingers slowing but still moving through your hair. "i can’t let you do that, ma."

"i'm sorry," i whispered.

paige sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face and tightening the blanket around my body. "don't be sorry," she said, her voice gentle but firm in that i knew she was being serious. "just let me help you, yeah?"

you let out a weak laugh and paige grinned back. “there’s my girl.”

as the medicine started kicking in, exhaustion weighed heavy on you, but paige stayed close, shrugging off her shoes and tucking herself into your side. “i got you,” she murmured into your neck, rubbing her face against your skin. “i love you.”

~

[janeyseymour]

Two Roads Diverged In A Wood

summary: a great valentines day prompt for @jeridandridge

WC: ~2.25

When Melissa broke up with Gary, you couldn’t necessarily state that you were shocked. Were you happy this might mean that you could have your shot with the gorgeous redhead? Perhaps. Did you enjoy seeing the shift in her attitude since very publicly rejecting his proposal of marriage? No. It was quite clear to you that the second grade teacher was miserable. Did she regret her decision? Not in the slightest. Did that make it any easier on her heart? No.

“For what it’s worth,” you lean in and tell her softly. “I think you did the right thing following your heart.”

“Thanks,” Melissa sighs, lips quirked to one side. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know,” you pat her arm affectionately.

“I gotta pay for the vending machine now too,” the second grade teacher grumbles. “You know how much I was saving not having to pay?”

You can’t help but laugh at that question. Melissa Schemmenti could quite possibly be the only person who would think about something as trivial as paying for her snacks and iced tea after going through a breakup.

“Probably a lot,” you chuckle.

“My body is used to having at least two iced teas a day now,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “I can’t afford that.”

When there’s an iced tea sitting on her desk for the next two weeks when she gets in, she just smiles softly to herself and thanks you quietly once she enters the staff lounge. 

As it would be, breaking up with somebody you’ve been in a relationship with for a few years sucks. It sucks even more when Melissa remembers that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. The redhead is only reminded of this when everyone is talking about what they’re doing for the holiday.

“Melissa, you’re always more than welcome to join Gerald and me,” Barbara offers kindly, although she knows Melissa won’t take her up on it.

“I ain’t crashin’ your Valentines,” the second grade teacher quips. “I’ll do a lot of things, but I ain’t doin’ that.”

“You always know that you’re able to,” Barb tells her best friend. 

“I… uh, I don’t have any plans other than to paint and watch television if you just wanted to come over and veg out with me,” you offer quietly. 

“That’d be really nice,” Melissa says softly, and she nudges you gently as a thank you.

Once lunch is over, Barbara practically swarms her work wife. “You’re really going to go over to Y/N’s?”

The redhead shrugs. “I think it’ll be a nice reprieve from all of the hectic-ness of Valentine’s Day, especially this year.”

“You think that’s a smart idea? To go over to her house when she’s part of the reason you broke it off with Gary in the first place?”

Melissa bites her lip nervously, but she doesn’t say anything. Again, she just looks to her friend and gives half a shrug in response. 

Valentine’s Day, as it always is, is chaotic as ever. The Abbott crew just barely manages to avoid another Halloween candy fiasco again. You send the sugar-high children off to reign hell on the streets or with their parents with a relieved sigh. Over lunch, you had told your redheaded guest she could head over anytime after 5. And now that you’re leaving, you figure that maybe you should stop by the store to make this significantly more difficult holiday easier to bear for the second grade teacher.

It’s not the most difficult thing in the world to shop for Melissa. You know she prefers red wine, so you grab a bottle of that. Flowers are easy- she likes anything pink, red, or white. You grab a bouquet of roses dotted with a few baby’s breath and hope that she likes them. Chocolate is always a hit with anyone. You do opt for some of the nicer chocolate and grab a pack of strawberries. Maybe the two of you can decorate some together. With a sigh, you throw a bag of white chocolate chips into the basket. If that doesn’t seem like the right move though, you do place a container of tiramisu in your cart as well. As for dinner, you had told her that you were planning on just ordering takeout, and you stick to your word.

By the time you get home and haul your groceries into the house, the clock is reading 4:50. Ready to be out of your work attire, you tell yourself you’ll put everything away while you’re waiting for the redhead. A few moments later, you’re descending back down the steps and into the kitchen with your pink sweatpants on and a comfortable hoodie. Sliding your slippers on as you go, you go about putting everything away. You’re interrupted a few minutes later to the doorbell ringing, and your phone going off with a text to let you know that Melissa had arrived. 

“It’s open!” you call as you finish putting everything away. No sooner do you hear the front door open, and your colleague is kicking off her shoes at the front door. “Kitchen!”

Footsteps approach, and when you turn with the flowers that you had bought for the woman, Melissa smiles softly.

“Those are gorgeous. Who got you those?”

“They’re for you, dumb ass,” you smirk as you hand them over. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 5She instinctively smells them, the smile on her face only getting sweeter.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Melissa whispers, although you can tell the small act practically made her day.

“I didn’t,” you chuckle. “Now, what do you want to order for dinner?”

Once the two of you have finally decided on dinner (it ends up just being Chinese takeout), you reach for the wine glasses and the bottle of wine that you picked up for the occasion.

“You don’t like this wine,” Melissa notes softly as she watches you expertly open her preferred drink and pour her a serving.

“I don’t,” you chuckle. Then you reach for the cabinet again and pull out your own glass of wine. “But you do, so…”

“Did you pick up this bottle specifically for me?”

You shrug with a smile and lead the redhead to the couch. On the table, there are a few different canvases for the two of you to pick from, different brushes, paints, and old takeout containers filled with water.

“You paint?” the second grade teacher raises a brow.

A bit shy, you point to the elegant landscape above your television. “I painted that.”

Green eyes widen and turn to you with shock. “So what the hell are you doing being a teacher?”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” you chuckle. “All for fun.”

“Well, I sure as hell can’t paint like that,” the redhead looks to you.

And as supportive as ever, you just give her an encouraging smile. “That’s the great thing about art and painting. It doesn’t have to look like that. As long as you, or someone who is lucky enough to see it, feels something when they look at it, it’s art.”

“You would say something like that,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “And mean it so earnestly too.”

You just continue to smile as you pick up a brush. You silently push your coworker to pick up her own brush, which she does.

“What are you planning on painting?” Melissa asks you.

“I don’t have much in my kitchen, so I’m thinking just some little canvases to hang… think silly home goods sayings,” you chuckle. And with that, you reach for a canvas, reach for a bottle of paint, and get to work.

You only work for a few minutes on one canvas, painting cow-like spots in pinks and browns on it, before moving to another and doing the same to another canvas. And while you’re waiting for your work to dry, you see that Melissa is simply watching you.

“I thought we were doing this together,” you note as you reach for your wine glass and take a sip.

Red hair swishes from one side to the other. “I- the way you work is… wow. I could never do that.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“So freely… in silence.”

If silence is the issue, you can sure as hell fix that. “I’ll be right back.”

You miss the way those striking green eyes are trained on your ass. But you’re back in a  few seconds with a guitar in one hand and a ukulele in another. Perfectly drawn on brows lift.

You don’t give her a verbal answer, only sit down, silently instruct her to pick up her brush again, and begin to play a soft tune on the guitar. Your voice begins to lay over the instruments beautifully, and after a few minutes, Melissa’s canvas is covered in beauty- that’s the only way you can describe it. You set your instrument down with a satisfied smile.

“See? You just needed some inspiration. That’s beautiful,” you compliment quietly.

Your colleague rolls her eyes. “It’s a bunch of colors.”

“But you felt something while I was singing, right?” you ask. “You were moved and let it all flow through you?”

The redhead glances down at her canvas. And it looks… she’s somewhat impressed with how nicely she blended the colors. “Yeah. But now I don’t know what to do.”

It’s then that the doorbell rings, and your dinner has arrived. The meal is pleasant, conversation flowing easily between the two of you. It also gives you a chance to let your partially finished painting dry.

Once you’re finished cleaning up your takeout containers, you smile at the redhead and pour her a bit more wine. Then you pick up your paint brush.

“You’re adding more?” she asks.

“Just the last few details,” you chuckle softly. On one canvas, you paint a few vines before pulling out your sharpie and writing “Love Grows Here” in your loopy script. On the other, you paint a simple line art espresso cup before writing “I like you a latte” underneath of it. You set the two pieces of art down with a satisfied look on your face.

“How?” Melissa asks simply. “How do you just… know how to do that?”

You shrug before looking at her canvas. “What are you going to add to yours?”

“I- I don’t really know,” she admits.

You give it another glance before suggesting softly, “Maybe you could add a few little vines and flowers and write a quote on that underneath.”

Those full lips quirk to the side in thought before it’s clear that an idea strikes her. The woman picks up a brush and gestures for you to pick up your guitar again. You oblige her request, although you’re a bit confused. And then you begin.

By the time you’re finished the first song, Melissa’s tongue is poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration as she paints… two paths?

“I’m just going to start getting dessert ready,” you promise her as you set your instrument down.

You’re able to heat up the chocolates that you bought earlier, bring out the strawberries, and carry them on a tray out to the coffee table when you see that Melissa has now picked up the sharpie and is writing a quote in the middle of her canvas. 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.-Robert Frost

“Frost?” you ask softly as she finishes crossing the ’t’.

Two shoulders shrug up and down. “I always liked that poem.” Then her eyes catch a glance at what you’ve brought into the room. “Chocolate covered strawberries?”

“They are,” you laugh. “But I figured it might be fun to be able to decorate them, or at least dip them in ourselves while we watch a movie or something.”

Green eyes light up as you settle in next to her.

The both of you end up eating your fair share of dessert before relaxing into the couch together. The way that the cushions lay, you’re sitting quite close to each other. Your hip is practically on the edge of her thigh. The blush creeps into your cheeks quickly.

You sit there quietly, as does she. The movie plays softly until you feel a soft cheek rest itself on your shoulder. When you look down, you expect the redhead to be asleep, or at least dozing. But she isn’t. She’s fully coherent and watching the movie with full attention. You can’t help but smile to yourself, your cheeks feeling ever so slightly warm.

“You good?”

“Just… relaxing,” Melissa mumbles into your shoulder. “And you’re warm.”

You can’t help the soft chuckle that falls off your lips as you wrap an arm around her and pull her closer. After a few minutes, you feel an arm delicate drape itself over your waist.

Melissa would never admit it, but this is the first time she’s been held in a long time- longer than she would’ve expected, with the feeling of being safe. Her guard is down, and she has not a care in the world as the movie quietly drones on around the two of you.

At some point, the two of you must fall asleep because the next thing you remember is glancing at the clock and it being two in the morning.

“Lis,” you mumble as you shake her shoulder gently.

Her eyes peel open, and she looks enraged at being woken up before she realizes she’s still with you- she’s still in your arms. “Hey. Sorry I fell asleep.”

You smile. “Nothing to apologize for,” you whisper. “I fell asleep too.”

“Well, I guess I should get out of your hair,” Melissa mutters as she tries to disentangle herself from you. But you keep your hold on her.

“Just stay the night. It’s two in the morning, and I don’t want you out there this late.” Yeah… that’s why you want her to stay the night; it definitely isn’t because she’s warm and loving and…

“Okay.”

And so, the two of you stumble your way up the steps for the night, falling onto the bed unceremoniously as the exhaustion truly seeps its way into your bones. Her head rests in the crook of you neck as the two of you fall asleep tangled together for the first time. You can only hope that it won’t be the last time. Maybe, by next Valentine’s Day, you’ll actually be a couple- not just two coworkers with lonely souls longing for each other. 

[kellycataclysm]

"Read to me...?"

"Anything for you..."

I was so thrilled to have the chance to work with my wonderful and talented friend @itsmeglycine on another commission of Lyra and Harvey. I'm just a fangirl fangirling, what can I say? This piece is so beautifully tender and cosy and just the most perfect thing for me to gaze on as I work on the final chapter in their long fic. Is this a glimpse into their loving and passionate early days or a look into their blissfully happy future? Could be both but something tells me this fits so well with where we're at in their story now. These two sillies are just so deeply in love, having weathered the storm, and their writer can confirm they've arrived at their happy ever after. Imagine the end of a long day, finally a moment of quiet and Lyra slips onto his lap, listening to his smooth and gentle voice as she falls asleep. I can't imagine anything better.

(Also... she's wearing his shirt... the one he wore here.)

(Also... Of course she wants to drape herself over him... have you seen the man? He is fine! The shirt sleeves...? I'm looking at those forearms like a Victorian man afforded a glimpse of ankle. That tie and those few buttons...? Stop it. And don't even get me started on his hands! I'm sure when she wakes up, refreshed from her nap, she'll have a little fun with her man. He takes such good care of her, she is only too keen to return the favour...)

Thank you so much for working with me again! You are wonderful! <3333

[aceofdumbass]

Okay, I might be biased, bc 1) psychology is my special interest 2) I study this field 3) I am fucking poor as fuck, and not long ago it was the kind that makes you unsure if you will be able to put food on the table tommorow

BUT

I honest to God can't remember being old enough to know what stress means and not knowing that being poor (or in prolonged stressful situation really) will quicken your death.

Is this really something that most ppl don't realize?

If you pay 50% of your income for place to live (and that usually means your income isn't this high - unless you live in some fancy place, possibly?) that means you have only this remaining half to cover food, medicine and healthcare, cleaning products - and having to possibly skimp on those categories is obviously dangerous.

If you are lower income person, you probably can't afford to take too many sick days - with current economy employers often prefer to fire people they find to be not so important, and, while not always, most low income jobs are ones you don't need to have much education or experience. Maybe to do it well, but who is gonna care if their barista/cashier/storage worker does things properly when faced with thousands of them? CEO of Starbucks? Walmart? Amazon? On the other hand, being absent from work is clear data, no analysis needed. But this is not about job situation now - it's about stability, which is inherently needed for humans to feel secure and safe.

And so, this is also one more point for healthcare being obstructed. I went to work, (in fucking museum reception!!!! In place where I talk to ppl and pass them things constantly!!!) with covid and 38,5°C body temperature right after they took back lockdown in my country bc I really fucking needed that work and my boss thought that wearing mask is enough.

Guess what, got fired anyway. Probably ppl from other desks complained about sick worker...

Point is, no rest for the wicked - or poor in this case. Many ppl will not stop dragging themselves to work unless ambulance has to pick them up. Huge part of those would have to first have a good soul call the ambulance for them after they passed out or something, bc the possibility hospital will tell them to stay for few days (and consequently, not be at work) is not worth it for them. Long live human rights!

Now, imagine it's a family household. Maybe two ppl and a child, a unit every country pushes for to get that sweet sweet "we are not dying out as a nation" marker. Two adults have low income jobs, and kid needs to go to school or preschool or whatever. Now those adults will have to decide, each time more than one of them is sick (or god forbid have more and more normal recently permanent illnesses) if they can afford all the doctors, all the medicine, all the sick days, who takes care of who... - if there is enough for all of it, or maybe they need to cut dow or something. Does their child go to doctor with a fever or maybe the father doesn't take his diabetes medication this month?

Fuck this life, but what can you do? Surely it will get better someday...

And then there are young ppl, who nowadays actually almost always have to borrow money to be able to get a house or flat. If you want to stabilize, not pay extra money for renting out or get rid of crazy landlord - prepare to be eternal slave to some bank, and to be hounded down like a criminal if you are late with few monthly payments. I would know, what with all the loans I took out for my parents as a very stupid 18 years old.

Yeah, getting screwed over by closest ones is a thing too. If you are poor as fuck, chances are, they are too, or you don't keep in touch or you have to observe how much their life is better - or you live with constant knowledge you are going to be forever indebted to them for their kindness. All wonderful situations, and I can mark each of them - what stupid prize will we get for full marks in this test? Ah yes, the top ones include depression (more medical bills), going to jail for desperate measures, and booking it out of here express way - maybe making a headline in newspaper about ppl not managing the pressure in extreme situations (and extreme is not something objective, mind you). Miserable.

Even if you aren't this bad off, jealousy and comparing and feeling inferior (and money is a sign of success right????) doesn't feel fine. Feels fucking awful, in truth.

Not having stability is fucking stressful. Pressure is fucking stressful. Having to make decisions that can hurt your closed ones is stressful! Do you know what our bodies do when we are stressed? NOT VERY MUCH RIGHT. Our hearts beat too fast, and get used up too much too quickly. Our hormonal balance flies into the sky with how much adrenaline we have and how little of serotonin and other good things are produced. We start having problems with being able to absorb vitamins and such. Consequently, the immune system gets weaker, we fall sick easier. Our memory may fail us. Deep sleep is hard to achieve, rest doesn't really "rest" us. Our body tries to switch all resources to get away from danger, at the cost of it's normal functions - but this danger is not what our instincts we made against, so many of those are useless. There are probably other things that happen which I don't know of or don't remember at this moment.

And after some time, our brain gets used to it. Now NOT being stressed is ALSO suspicious, a reason to be stressed about! Congratulations, humanity! Achievement unlocked: Anxiety Disorders! Wheeeey...

That thing five years ago that you sometimes remember and want to self-combust because of? Guess what, it's your body going "we are stressed. Danger. We need to fuck off asap. Quickly, think. Oh, long ago we were also stressed=danger, but we lived! Surely there is a way to avoid this danger too somewhere in this memory!". And now, it's going to happen ALL the fucking time. When you are on a date. When getting to work. When brushing teeth.

You started hyperventilating before job interview and look like unstable mess during? Well, danger, you know. Gotta dash, horta have enough oxygen for that, make that blood flow. Diarrhoea (or the opposite) before meeting with important client? There is a chance your body tried to make you lighter to get away easier, or maybe get the predator to leave, like a skunk. Or possibly, brain figured out it really isn't a time to go to bathroom so we are gonna stop that for next half a week till this sudden random pain makes you wish you were dead when you actually can't physically not go. Might be other reasons, of course, but stress can and sometimes will induce those responses. Ones, which may very well induce even more stress - for whatever you fuck up because of them or for your health (which really can't detonate right now, bc you don't have enough left for doctor visit from this month's paycheck, and no sick days left!).

This fun train is on express course for a crash - and you just saw conductor throwing out the brakes through the window. Delightful. Wanna buy that overpriced chocolate cake or coffee for 20 bucks to eat through the stress?

The long and short of it: little money means stress. Stress means you need to pay more money to be able to live on. Pressure means stress. See the pattern?

And even if you are the chillest person out there, if you break a leg and can't get yourself treated, you might lose job, go hungry, get some infection in it and die way quicker than you would without it. You will just be slightly less bothered about it, I guess.

Welcome to the world, where everything is for money, and you get those through luck (uncertain), slaving away (uncertain) or human life protection (uncertain) or social help (uncertain).

And no shit, did researchers really say that people die quicker if they are rid of half their income? Wow.

[lovelivision]

STOLEN FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE ✿

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𐔌.pairing — fushiguro toji / reader

‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 4k

❥ summary... toji comes home with classic valentine's gifts for you but there's something not quite traditional about how he celebrates...

warnings.�� ── 18+ only, smut, pwp, hickeys, biting, (slight) tit play, food play(?) -- he licks chocolate off you, swearing, dirty talk, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, toji fucks a little mean, creampie, afab!reader, no pronouns used

The front door opens unceremoniously as Toji enters your small, shared apartment; the sound causes you to poke your head out from the kitchen to look at what he’s doing. His hands are holding something behind his back as he kicks the door closed with his foot, a big smile on his face when he spots you.

He quickly shuffles down the hall to you, “Happy Valentine’s Day, doll.”

“Happy Valentine’s, Toji,” you look at him curiously, he seems way too proud of himself.

“Here,” he moves a hand towards you, colourful wildflowers presented for you to take.

Receiving them graciously, you beam back at him, “These are so pretty, thank you–” Looking at them properly gives you pause, “Toji…”

“Yes, doll?”

“Where did you get these?” Your brow quirks at him.

He answers like it’s obvious, “The shop.” Continuing to move past you into the kitchen and pulling a bowl out of one of the cabinets.

Humming as you follow behind him, “Uh huh, and that’s why the roots are still attached is it?”

Toji stills for a single second before acting like that’s normal, “I’m not understanding the issue.”

“Toji, you took these from someone’s garden didn’t you?”

“No,” he lies, breaking up the chocolate he had concealed behind his back into the bowl.

You pull on his shoulder so that he turns to face you, “I can clearly see you’ve taken these from the ground.”

“I thought you’d like them, they reminded me of you,” he goes for flattery instead.

“You couldn’t afford to buy me flowers?”

“I could they just didn’t… have any left,” he scratches the back of his head.

You roll your eyes at him, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’d say hot or sexy but whatever you say works too,” he winks at you.  

Ignoring his self-praise, you rustle through the kitchen to find a vase to put your stolen flowers in, he was right about one thing; you do like them. Toji is still breaking up the chocolate and now that you’re done questioning him about the dubious origin of those flowers, you’re curious as to what exactly he’s doing.

“What are you doing to the chocolate?”

“Putting it in a bowl,” he doesn’t look at you.

You groan at him, annoyed by his dodging of the question, “Yeah I can see that, why are you putting it in a bowl?”

He grins at you, his intent evil, “So I can melt it.” Moving to the microwave he sticks the bowl in and starts it.

Shaking your head softly when you ask, “Do I wanna know?”

“You’re gonna find out soon anyways,” he steps closer to you, his hands grabbing your hips.

He’s making you suspicious of him, “What are you up to?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

There’s no opportunity for you to argue back at him, he’s leant down and captured your lips in a heated kiss. Not wasting any time as he licks into your mouth, his hands wandering under your shirt, groping at you as he goes. It’s still impressive how breathless he can render you after a single kiss, your thoughts already a little foggy.

Toji walks you back and into one of the counters, your back hitting it as he continues kissing you dizzy. Lips leaving yours, he presses kisses to your cheek down to your neck, sucking and nibbling on your soft skin. The breaths of air he puffs against you send static electricity through you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as you murmur, “Shouldn’t we go to the bedroom?”

He nips at your neck just to watch you jolt, softly chuckling to himself at your reaction. “I need to wait for my chocolate,” he states simply.

Remembering that he quite literally just put something in the microwave, you warn him, “You should really be keeping an eye on it so you don’t burn it…”

He hums noncommittally, “But my eyes are a little preoccupied right now?”

“Toji…”

“I know what I’m doing,” he rolls his eyes lightly.

“I doubt that… you should be stirring it,” you inform.

He glares at you, almost pouting, “I don’t like how much you’re not thinking about me right now.”

“I was thinking about you… and then you wanted to talk about your chocolate– ah!–”

While you’re talking he tucks his head into your neck again, nuzzling against you before biting down to get you to shut up. Your fingers dig into his shoulders in surprise, not expecting the sudden rebellion from him.

Whining out, “That hurt~”

He laves over the bite mark with his tongue, not even an ounce of pity from him when he says, “Sorry, doll.”

“I don’t think you are,” you sulk back at him.

“No, I don’t think I am either,” you can feel his smile against your skin, “In fact, I think I’ll probably do it again.”

The microwave suddenly beeping frightens you but Toji pays it no mind, only continuing his assault of hickeys and kisses on your neck. “The microwave– hah– is done.”

He mumbles back, “I heard it.”

Trailing his way back to your lips, he kisses you deeply. It’s messy as he lick at you, tongue meeting yours in a depraved manner, enough to make your skin heat and small whines to tumble from you. Thoughts of the microwave disappear from your head with how he nibbles on your lower lip, starting to feel so much hotter.

His mouth leaves yours with a pop! Slight embarrassment flooding you with how dazed he’s gotten you. He grins at the stupid look on your face, his hands cupping your cheeks, “You’re cute.”

Pulling his hands away by his wrists, “Shut up.”

Reluctantly, he steps back from you but not before whispering low, “Take off your shirt.”

Blinking at his blunt direction, “What?”

“You heard me,” is all he says as he pulls the bowl of melted chocolate out of the microwave. Moving over to the cutlery drawer, he fiddles around before fishing out a spoon, mixing it around. A self-satisfied smile on his face indicating that it’s turned out how he wanted.

When you realise you’ve yet to make a move, you bashfully take off your shirt like he’d asked you to. Your arms folding over your chest once it’s off, feeling too exposed in comparison to him who is still in all of his clothes.

He stalks back over to you with a look in his eyes that has you feeling like he’s going to absolutely devour you. Reaching past you, he places the bowl on the counter, “Move your hands, doll.”

“How about you take off a piece of clothing and I will,” you bargain with him.

Leaning in to mock you lightly, “Is somebody feeling shy?”

“Just take off your shirt, Toji,” you grumble back at him.

He chuckles lightly but pulls it off easily, dropping it to the floor by yours, “Now, stop depriving me of my view.” His hands glide up either side of your torso, your own moving automatically to give him room.

Toji paws at your tits for a while, rolling your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. Pulling away is like it takes him a monumental effort but he clearly has something planned, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Registering a faint clink as he reaches behind you again, not understanding what he’s doing until the sight of the spoon covered in melted chocolate comes into your view. His grin large as he lets the liquid drop onto your chest, letting it trail down your tit. He almost throws the spoon back to the counter as he leans down. Tongue tracing along the chocolate, lips latching to your nipple to suck it clean.

“Oh my– Toji! You’re so– ngh–” his tongue flicks against you and you suddenly can’t think, every single name you could think to call him slipping from your grasp as he continues to lick and suck at you.

Pulling back, he says, “I just thought…” reaching for the spoon again and dribbling more chocolate on you, over your other tit, “Since it’s Valentine’s and all…” his smile is evil and lust filled, “I should buy chocolate.”

“You’re supposed to buy me chocolate,” you complain.

“I did,”  he kisses along your skin, tongue licking at you. Mumbling a low, “And you taste delicious.”

“You’re– hah– teasing me,” you pout at him, legs wobbly as he continues to pour chocolate on you just to lick it away.

He doesn’t even bother denying it, “I am.”

Of course he’s teasing you, how could he not? The thing that Toji finds cutest in this world is when your eyes get glassy and you struggle to think straight because all your senses are being clouded by him. He’s relishing in your pleased moans and whines as he puts his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your skin just to make you shiver for him. Any and every reaction you can make he wants to pull from you, he wants to see just how much he can tease you.

“Have you– hah– had your fill?” he’s making you impatient, your thighs rubbing against each other pitifully.

One of his hands is groping your tit, his mouth on the other. Barely willing to part to answer you, “Of you?” His tongue flicks against your nipple, “Never.”

You give him your best begging look, eyes pleading with him to stop teasing. You could verbally beg him and it’d probably be easier but it’d give him a kind of satisfaction you don’t think he deserves. Not after he stole flowers from someone’s garden.

As he looks at you, you can almost see his cheeks tint a pretty shade of pink from the way you’re looking at him. He curses under his breath, “Stop looking at me like that,” he frowns, knowing he’s already been bested, “Fine, you win.”

“And what’s my prize– ah!–” Suddenly you’re lifted in the air and hauled over Toji’s shoulder.

He stomps through the house quickly, “A good fuck.”

“You’re so crude,” you mumble at him.

“You don’t seem to mind when I’m stuffing you full of my dick,” he counters.

He drops you onto the bed, watching your tits jiggle from the fall. Smirk plastered on his face as he leers at you.

“Why are you so huffy?” you cross your arms over your chest.

Toji can’t tell you that he’s mad about you getting him to fold with a single look, so instead he replies, “Because… you’re still wearing pants.”

“Hmmm…” you hum curiously, easily slipping out of them. Already knowing why he’s really frustrated when you look up at him in the same way as before, “Is that better?”

His teeth clench, nearly grinding them. You make him feel so weak for you and he doesn’t feel it’s fair, “You’re getting to be too sly.”

“You think?” Blinking up at him before adding, “I wonder where I’d learn something like that?”

A grin on his face as his hands start working on ridding himself of his pants, “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he repeats your words from earlier.

“I think hot… or maybe sexy?” You rest back on your palms as you watch him strip for you, deeply admiring the view.

Once he’s undressed, he moves in closer and grabs your face by your cheeks. Squeezing them together so that your mouth is in an exaggerated pout, “How about adorable?”

He lets go and you offer, “What about fuckable?”

“Well, that was never in question for me, doll.” He tilts his head at you, “Roll over.”

Easily rolling over onto your stomach for him, not even bothering to lift yourself onto your hands and knees. You’re choosing to test him and his patience instead. Unable to see when it happens but you just know he rolled his eyes at your literal interpretation of his words.  

A hand is planted on the bed by your head as he crawls over top of you, his other hand trailing its fingers up your side, tickling you. You squirm under him and that hand grips your hip, holding you still, “I thought you were begging for it earlier?”

“Did you hear me beg for it?” you retort.

His words are by your ear, smile in his voice, “Do you want me to make you beg for it?”

Worried he might actually follow through on that threat, you try goading him, “I was promised a good fuck for my win, or are you scared you can’t deliver?”

“You know…” he nuzzles against your face, “…This is only making me want to tease you more.” He ponders, “I wonder just how sexually frustrated I could make you…”

“Toji,” you whine at him.

“Tapping out already?” he chuckles at you, blowing cool air against your ear, “Where’d your fight go?”

You try raising your hips for him but he’s still got his hand on you, holding you down to the mattress, “Come on, Toji. Just give me what you promised.”

Moving back and away from your face to rest on his knees, taunting, “Did you hear me promise anything.” His hands are on your ass, groping and pulling at your cheeks. Whistling low when he pulls you apart for his greedy eyes to look at, “Aw, you’re so wet, doll.” His voice laced with faux pity.

“Can you do something to help?” You look back at him, his eyes preoccupied with staring shamelessly at your cunt.

His tongue licks over his lower lip, “I could think of a thing or two.”

The hands on your ass cheeks move to your hips, tugging you up swiftly. Your back immediately arching for him, putting yourself on lewd display without him even asking you too. A hand smooths over your back, following the indecent curve of your spine. You can tell he’s smug with how he hums at you.

“Be good for me now, hmm?” He slaps his dick against your cunt, grinning when your hips move back at him.

“That– hah– depends on youuu– Ah!–” He’d started slipping inside you while you were speaking, cutting your words off with a shameless moan.

A shudder runs through his body at the tight grip you have on him, “Oh, does it?”

Such a bastard, he knows damn well whatever you would’ve retorted with is lost when he’s slowly pushing inside you. Mind fuzzy and all you can focus on is the obscene way his cock stretches you open, beyond needy and turned on when you wriggle your hips back at him. Silently asking for more, words still failing you.

He stops you easily, holding you painfully still, “Give yourself– hah– a second, doll”

You always forget just how much of him there really is to take when he first gets inside you, something he doesn’t forget which is why he’s always begging you to pace yourself. His eyes rolling in pleasure with how hot you are around him, pulsing rhythmically, he really must’ve gotten to you earlier. The thought brings a satisfied smirk to his face.

Finding your voice only to say, “Hah– More.”

“You– hnn– need to wait,” he continues to hold you steady despite your protests.

“Don’t wanna.”

He gracefully gives you another couple inches, “I should play with your tits more often if it’s gonna make you this fuckin needy.”

“Don’t– hnn– don’t talk,” his voice is making your insides twist, if he’s not gonna fuck you full right now then he needs to shut up.

“Why? Don’t like the sound of my voice?” he leans down closer to you, just so he can speak right into your ear, “Or do you like it too much?”

You bite out, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he bites the tip of your ear, snickering at the way you shudder under him. He gives you another couple inches, “You should tell me you love me; it is Valentine’s Day after all.”

Taking a measured breath in and out before replying to him, “I’ll– hngh!– love you when you put it all the way in.”

“I love you,” he purrs into your ear.

You’re already so on edge and he’s only being cruel now. “Hnn– I lo– ah!– ngh!–” Just as you’re about to tell him you love him as well; he thrusts into you completely. Your voice coming out as a shocked moan as you stammer around words that are unsalvageable.

“Hmm? Don’t think I– hah– quite caught that, doll,” his pelvis is flush to your ass, not moving.

Too busy trying to keep your wits about you to say anything snarky back to him, already on the verge of cumming with just how worked up he got you. Taking deep breaths as you try to focus on anything other than the way he’s stuffing you full, or his voice next to you.

Unfortunately for you, Toji catches on quick to what you’re struggling with and now he’s way too interested in getting you to finish like this. “You already gonna cum, doll?”

You shake your head at him as best you can, denying his accusation vehemently but with how you’re pulsing around him he knows you’re lying. A hand trails up your body and reaches around to your front, groping at your tit boldly. “You’re such a liar,” a breathless laugh leaving him. “Pretty pussy so snug around me,” he huffs, “Begging to get fucked.”

It’s such an effort to get out a simple, “B– be– hngh!– quiet, Toji.”

“Why should I?” He rolls your nipple between his fingers, “I love you.”

Whole body tensing as you cum around his dick, the low timbre of his voice as he told you he loved you again doing you in. Body twitching and spasming under him as you barely manage to bite back your moans. Your feet kicking against the mattress as you ride it out, not able to do much else.

An absolutely delightful sight for Toji, you’re cumming around him after he’s only just gotten balls deep and murmured a few words to you. Shockingly easy to get you to finish and he’s going to remember this about you until his last breath. He wants to move so bad but he’s not trying to kill you, the amount of self-control he has to summon for this moment is actively driving him crazy. You’re all whiny under him, squirming and jolting from your come down and he wants nothing more than to fuck you until you cry from how good he’s making you feel.

He presses kisses to your shoulder, “Are you still here?”

“Mhm,” you mumble out an affirmative. A strangled sound leaves you when he bites into your shoulder, the abruptness jolting you back to reality in a single moment. “Whyyy?”

Another kiss is pressed over the fresh mark, “Use your words next time.”

“…Bossy.”

“You seem fine now,” he chuckles.

Barely given a moment to register his declaration before he’s pulling out, the heavy drag of his cock making all your limbs tingle pleasantly. His thrust back into you is harsh and quick, jolting your whole body, head suddenly up in the clouds with how sensitive you still are. Clawing at the bed below for some kind of grounding, mouth slackened as you moan shamelessly.

The wet sounds of him fucking into you filling your ears, unable to register much of anything but that. Damn near drooling onto the bedding below as his tip abuses your cervix over and over, and despite how fucked dumb he’s already got you; you’re trying to arch into him more. Something that Toji finds incredibly endearing, lifting himself back and up to have a better view of you below him.

His hand presses into your back, “What’s– hnn– wrong, doll? What’s got you– hah– fuck– so needy today?”

He’s always asking you questions when he knows you’re in no state to answer coherently, turning your face into the bed, trying to stifle your moans and hide the tears that are threatening to fall. Something that Toji isn’t going to let you do, a grumble coming from behind him as he reaches out and turns your head back to how it was. A hand stays on the back of your neck, not letting you hide from him again.

“Where do ya think you’re going, doll?” his smile is big as he spots the tears in your lash line.

You want to shake your head at him but can’t manage it with the hand on the back of your neck. Lower lip trembling with your pleasure, eyes almost completely unseeing as the tears cloud your field of vision. He’s hitting so deep and you feel so full – it’s too good – especially with how you just came.

“Ah, you’re so pretty right now,” he compliments you. “I’m– hnn– gonna move my hand but you’re gonna stay like that for me aren’t ya?”

“Mhm,” you mumble out before remembering his earlier words, “Y– hng!– ye– yeah”

“Good.” He pulls his hand back off your neck, both now on your hips.

Adjusting you how he pleases and then knocking out what little breath was left in your lungs with the increase in his pace. This is what he wanted, to be able to see all of you from above. Revelling in the way your greedy cunt sucks him back in every time he goes to pull out, cock coated obscenely in your slick. The bed no doubt a huge mess below the pair of you, he knows you’ll be embarrassed about it later and he’ll be teasing you for it.

In love with how messy you get when he fucks you, just more evidence of how responsive you are to him. Eyes stuck on the way he disappears inside you, dick pulling out shiny with how wet you are. Already having creamed around him, white ring around the base of himself. His eyes nearly roll at it all, he’s so unbelievably turned on that he feels like he’s gone feral. His hands pull at your ass cheeks, wanting to see more, he’s shameless as he leers at your pussy struggling to take all of him.

With how fast he’s slamming into you, you can feel your orgasm building quickly again, “Toji! Slow– hah– slow down– hng!– ah!– I’m gonna c– cum– hah– again!”

“Good,” he grits out, trying to focus on not blowing his load right now, “Cum again, doll– hngh– fuckin coat me in it.”

It doesn’t even take another thirty seconds before you’re cumming all over him, chest stuttering with broken moans as another orgasm rocks through you. Feeling so much more now with the way he continues fucking into you, not letting you rest like he did before.

His hands grip at you desperately, watching you come undone beneath him almost very nearly breaking his mind. He finds you so cute as you mumble out his name over and over, your body jerking with the aftershocks running through you.

Your voice cuts through him when you murmur out, “I– hngh– love you, Toji.”

An involuntary shudder spiking through his body as he cums abruptly, the suddenness of it shocking him. Brain lagging behind his body, cumming before he realises it and when he does, he’s slamming his hips into you and holding there. Grinding into you to ride out his high, wanting you to be stuffed full even after he pulls out.

After he’s come down some, he reluctantly pulls himself from you but only because he knows your body has to be aching. His hands laying you gently back onto the bed, hovering closer to your face to check on you. Finger coming up to wipe a tear from your eye, you blink lazily up at him, eyes glassy and fucked out.

“I love you,” he kisses your cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Toji,” you mumble out hoarsely, after a beat adding, “I can’t believe you stole those flowers…”

𝒂.𝒏. this one took me longer to get out then i planned apologies !! i ended up reading and youtubemaxxing MY BAD </3 ilyasm !! VALENTINES ISNT OVER UNTIL I SAY SO❣️

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere King X G/N Ghost reader

Trigger warnings! Death, violence ,You die (obviously lmao), Yandere s/hs , More of a lovesick Yandere. This is my first ever fic so if I've missed anything please let me know!

With that said just imagine a...

����Yandere Prince who sneaks out...like a lot. What can he say? He loves his kingdom! If he is to rule it one day he must understand it.

👑A Yandere Prince who one day bumps into you! A commoner nothing more, nothing less but to him. You were everything! Your passion, your gratefulness, your kindness is everything he loves about his kingdom in one person! You live in a little village just outside the kingdom but still in it's land. You try to avoid crowds, you have a collection of rocks and crystals. A harmless hobby that got you label as "mysterious" or "freaky".

👑Yandere Prince doesn't mind this at all! You're so pure and happy, you would never harm anyone! (And the more people believe you're threat the more you're all his-oop!)He loves when you ramble about the rocks you collect along the lake, his heart hurts when he finds out the reason you have mostly rocks in your collection is because you can't afford crystals.

"Your majesty?..." You open your door one night. "What ever are you doing at this-!" You didn't have time to finish before the young prince launches at you. Hugging you tighter then ever before, it's almost painful. " Father wants me to marry..." It's all he says, you try to see his expression but he's holding you so tightly you can't move. His blond hair covers his blue eyes. "I-I can't!" He's voice breaks. You've never seen him so Human, His prince persona complete forgotten.

You rub his back. "You'll make a fine husband, your ma-"

"Neil"

"I'm sorry?"

"Call me Neil... please" He pulls away from you. He gently moves his hands to cup your face and leans in. Before anything can happen there's a sudden slamming of your front door bashing into your wall. You scream in terror while Yandere Prince tries to keep you as close to the other side of the room as possible. Royal knights come in and pull the prince away from you.

"Unhand me!" Yandere Prince use's all his strength to pull away from the knights but with three of them restraining him it's near impossible. He's eyes wide in pure fear when he sees you being shackled. "No! No! You can't! You can't!" Kicking and screaming while being dragged into the carriage, he woke up the whole village with his tantrum. You keep your head down. If it wasn't for the knights dragging you along it would of been impossible for you to see, tears filling your eyes.

👑Yandere Prince who had to be bound to his bed when he found out you were to be hanged. His obsession of you being misunderstood as a love spell you cast on him. In a sick sense of comedy the more he screamed and cried the more it made up the kings mind.

👑Yandere Prince who managed to convince his personal maid, the one that's been raising him like her child since his mother's passing. To visit you one more time, to send his love and beg you not to hate me. To his surprise she returns with a small rose quartz you had on your clothes for him to keep.

👑Yandere Prince who cried so hard he vomited on your execution day. The cheers of the crowds fueled his rage. That night he was sat in bed rubbing his sore wrists, eyes puffy from crying. He brings his knees to his chest when he feels a hand on his back.Turning around he saw nothing.

👑Yandere Prince who has hardly slept since your death. Who is a vile shell of the young man he once was. On the day he had to meet his future bride. He punched a mirror unable to see himself with anyone who wasn't you.

That night he stumbled back into his chamber having drank his sorrows away to forgot everything. But he could of swore he never cleaned away the glass shards and he never let the staff in his chamber anymore.

That night he saw you. He came to him in his dreams. You're figure looked smaller then usual. The red ring around your neck was all he could stare at. "My love?" Was all yandere Prince could muster before waking up, the rose quartz in hand.

👑Yandere Prince who started carrying the crystals around everywhere, oh and I mean everywhere. He didn't believe it did anything but slightly ease his pain. That was an till his father, the king. Snatched it out of his hand "You stupid boy! Can't you see this was the vessel that ruined your mind!" And that was all it took. Yandere prince took his sword and plunge it into his father's heart. He went on a rampage killing everyone from the exactor to the civilians that cheered your demise.

👑Yandere king that became the most feared man in all this side of the mountains. All that death managed to bring Ghost readers form into this realm.

"My love... never again will I let scum take you away from me." He tried to take your hand in his but it just felt like a cold tingle on his palms.

After this yandere king made his staff build a steal box to keep the rose quartz safe. Maybe his father was right...the crystal was a vessel for someone.

[ashen-char]

life makes love look hard

ship: anora x reader (gender neutral)

summary: reader has a tough day. anora comforts you.

word count: 1700+

notes: requested here and ani x reader won the poll soooo here ya go!

The apartment is a new development in the young couple's lives. Anora had just pawned off the ring, tired of clinging onto the horrific 48 hours it represents. She's moving on with you now. Selling it represented that. Suddenly able to afford a deposit, the two of you had scouted a cozy studio in Manhattan. Closer to HQ so Ani didn't have to take the subway so often, closer to your work too. It made sense.

It's barely decorated. You two haven't had the time to unpack much, just the essentials. Her clothes are in the closet, both of your products lining the vanity and bathroom counters. The rest are still in boxes. No shelves to put them onto yet, just bare white walls that are starting to make you feel claustrophobic. The apartment feels heavier than usual, like the walls are pressing in just a little too much. The air is stale, thick with the kind of silence that makes everything worse instead of better. And your brain is screaming at you - bored but too overwhelmed to do anything. You’ve been sitting in the same spot on the couch for who knows how long, staring at nothing, the day’s weight heavy on your shoulders.

Anora notices you on the couch, staring into space. "Bad day?" Anora asks. She keeps her voice casual. Not meaning to press but she’s already dropping onto the couch next to you, slinging an arm over the backrest like she’s settling in for a long night.

"Yeah. Been... rough," is all you can offer.

You don’t elaborate right away. You know Ani's waiting for more, and that you should get over the hard part and put words to how absolutely sucky this whole day has been, but even the thought of saying more exhausts you. Instead, you stare at the same spot on the floor you’ve been glaring at for the past fifteen minutes. Hoping maybe it’ll swallow you whole. 

Anora lets the silence stretch. She’s good at that - knowing when to push and when to let you breathe. When to tease and make light of things, or when to be serious. But eventually, she exhales, reaches over, and flicks your knee.

"Alright, I'm officially calling it," she announces, "you’re going through it. Bad."

"That obvious?"

She grins. "Yeah, what can I say? I just know you that well, babe." Then she shifts closer, resting her elbow on her knee, eyes locking onto yours with that sharp, focused expression she gets when she’s getting serious. "So, ya gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to fuckin' guess?" Ani jokes.

You hesitate. Which sucks. You take pride in the fact that you two communicate, hell, even over communicate sometimes. Part of you wants to brush it off, to tell her it’s nothing. Don't waste your mental energy on things you can't change, it'll just upset you more. But the words get stuck in your throat. You don't want to brush this off. Don't want to say it's nothing, because that would mean accepting it. That this is the way the world works.

Anora notices. Of course she does. She reaches out, tugs at the sleeve of your sweatshirt - not hard, just enough to ground you. "Hey," she says, softer now. "It's me. I'm here, yeah? No judgement."

She turns her body to face you, one hand cupping your cheek to tilt your head towards her. Her big brown eyes search yours, filled with warmth and worry. Sometimes it's like Anora can sense your distress from a mile away, like it makes her own heart ache. You know that she wants nothing more than to take it away, to fix whatever has you so clearly suffering.

"I know I ain't no therapist, but you don't gotta go through this alone. I'm your girl, remember?" She gives you a little smile, trying to coax one out of you in return, even stroking your cheek. "Seriously. Lay it on me."

So you do. "When I was making breakfast, one of the eggs was rotten so I ruined three eggs - you know how I do that thing where I put crack 'em all into one bowl so I can scramble and salt it evenly. And eggs are so expensive these days," you tell her. The words get easier when you're looking in Ani's eyes. She's just nodding and humming but you feel your shoulders get lighter. Sharing the burden that you were holding alone. "Didn't have time to cook any other breakfast, so I went to work hungry. Stomach rumbled during my presentation today, that was fucking humiliating."

Groaning, you lean forward and hide your face in Ani's neck. She smells like vanilla and that cherry blossom mist deodorant she likes to wear, plus something light and fruity. "No one said anything, but they probably thought I was unprofessional. Bad at time management, at least." With a deep inhale, you try to let the nagging thoughts go.

Saying it out loud makes it sound so insignificant now, and it's kinda embarrassing that you were getting so worked up about it. Logically you know that it's the culmination of all the small things, the feeling that nothing was going right all day, that finally drove you to this brink of turning your brain off. "I sound stupid. Whiny," you whine.

"Hey, hey... don't you dare feel stupid," she chastises lightly. "You're human. Life's a fucking rollercoaster sometimes, yeah? The little things, they can take a real toll. Doesn't make shit less hard if they're small, or silly. They matter to me because you matter to me."

Ani holds you like this for a long moment, letting you hide away from the world in the warmth and softness of her embrace. Her fingers thread through your messy hair, stroking through the strands so you can focus on something else. Her presence has always done wonders for you.

"Okay," she says. "So do you want the ‘life is unfair but you’ll get through it’ pep talk? Or do you want me to threaten someone for you? Because I’ve got some pretty creative ideas."

You snort, and she grins like that was her plan all along. "Seriously," she continues, nudging your foot with hers. "Whatever you need, I got you. Distraction? Done. Validation? Also done. Want me to say something so ridiculous you forget why you’re even upset? Babe, that’s my fuckin' specialtyyy," she drags out.

You shake your head, but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. "You’re an idiot," you mumble.

"Yeah," she shrugs, "but I’m your idiot." 

She tips your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze and stop hiding against her chest. After what feels like a minute, Anora leans in, resting her forehead against yours. Her breath is warm on your face as she whispers, "I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you had a shitty day, and I hate that I couldn't be there to make it better." She pulls back a bit to cup your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "But you'll always have me.

Anora shifts, getting more comfortable, but she doesn’t let go of you. Instead, she leans in a little, her voice dropping to something lower, almost conspiratorial. Letting go of that serious shit for a second to let her lovable personality shine through again.

"You know," she says, tapping her fingers against your arm like she’s idly counting down to something, "I was gonna drag you out tonight. Thought about taking you to that 24-hour diner, ordering a pile of fries so obscene the staff would probably talk shit about us in the kitchen. And getting them to top up our coffee over and over of course." She tilts her head. "But you seem more like a ‘stay here and rot’ kind of sad tonight. Am I right?"

You let out a laugh. You do love getting that shitty diner, but staying in sounds best. At least for your mental state. "Yeah." Ani knows you get like this sometimes, and she's never handled it with anything but playful acceptance. You get so tired. Not just physically, but deep in your soul. 

"Cool. Then I’ll rot with you."

She kicks off her boots and you complain about her wearing her shoes inside again. As she placates your huffs, she pulls a blanket over the both of you. Then - because she’s Anora - she grabs the remote and starts flipping through streaming services without even asking what you want to watch.

"Let’s see," she muses, scrolling with the kind of lazy confidence that you love in her. There's never back and forth about what you two want to eat, never any indecision. "Do we go with something so bad it’s good, or something so good it makes you forget life sucks? Oh, or maybe one where other people's lives are so bad it makes you feel grateful for your own life's brand of shittiness?"

You shrug against her. "Don’t care."

"Bold of you to let me decide." She smirks. "I could make you watch some artsy foreign film with no subtitles, just to mess with you."

"You wouldn’t," you say with a glare.

She raises an perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Wouldn’t I?"

You roll your eyes, but you don’t stop her when she finally settles on some home makeover show - one of those absurd ones with a host who never runs out of quips, gaudy design choices, and way in-depth explanations of what they're going to change. It’s exactly the kind of thing that requires zero emotional investment but sucks you in for a binge, which is perfect.

The opening scene plays, bright flashes of the house's 'before shots' lighting up the dim room, but Anora’s attention is half on you, like she’s checking to see if this is working. If you’re still too lost in your own head.

She nudges you again, softer this time. "Hey."

You glance over, and she looks at you with that same mix of teasing and something steadier, something real.

"I’m serious, you know," she says. "You don’t have to deal with anything alone."

The words settle in, warm and steady, sinking past the exhaustion and the heaviness of the day. You don’t know what to say back, so you don’t say anything at all. You just lean against her, let the show play, let the world outside feel far away for a little while.

Eventually, you muster a "thank you."

Anora doesn’t push for more. She tugs the blanket higher over the both of you, and mutters, "like I said. I gotcha. Whatever you need."

[transgender-daemon-faerie]

Except he had no intention of doing that. If you pay any attention to the plans he actually laid out, and the plans other politicians like him laid out. He cares more about cutting back protections for minorities and taking away basic rights. He said over and over again that on day one he would be getting rid of DEI, and if you are anything except an able-bodied, white, cisgender, heterosexual, Christian man you are protected by dei. He said he was coming for the transgenders. He said he was coming for abortion rights.

But he’s going to make things more affordable so I can’t care about that, right? He also said he was going to raise Tarriffs. Which make things MORE expensive not less.

He told everyone what his plan was and they chose not to listen.

And no, he didn’t cause the bird flu. But I am allowed to find it darkly funny that people who chose the belief that eggs would be cheaper over my safety aren’t even getting cheaper eggs.

I live in a red state. I know people who voted for him. People who did not care what else he did as long as he could maybe make groceries cheaper.

Just gonna leave this here

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (6/???)

Things are heating up around here, huh? Ready to melt?

What a hot chapter!!!

Be prepared and enjoy <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: After a long day, you see something that would change you forever.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist.

Desire

The next morning, the mansion was silent, but the atmosphere felt charged with something invisible, like static electricity in the air. You woke up to the soft light filtering through the window, Lucky still sleeping beside you, and a strange sensation of relief mixed with anxiety. Something was changing, but you couldn't quite define what.

Getting dressed that morning was a different experience. There was calm—a luxury you couldn’t afford before. You no longer had to grab the first piece of clothing you saw in the closet or calculate every minute to leave the house an hour early. That wasn’t necessary anymore. Not when Agatha took you, and Rio picked you up at the end of the day.

Now, you could wake up without rushing, stretch beside Lucky, tend to your meticulously arranged plants by the window, and finally, choose your outfit with care. You opted for a soft and comfortable cappuccino-brown T-shirt, loose around the arms but fitted at the bust. The V-neck added a casual touch, contrasting with the dark brown tailored pants that hugged your waist perfectly. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and for a rare moment, you felt beautiful.

As you walked downstairs toward the kitchen, a muffled sound caught your attention—the clinking of silverware, the rustling of fabric, the faint sizzle of something in a frying pan. You stopped at the entrance and saw Rio with her back to you, leaning over the stove, visibly confused about what she was trying to do. Her fingers drummed impatiently against the counter as she kept one eye on the coffee maker and the other on the culinary disaster unfolding before her.

The corner of your mouth lifted involuntarily. It was rare to see her like this—distracted, slightly clumsy.

“Good morning,” you announced, trying to suppress a laugh.

Rio startled slightly before turning her head in your direction, her eyes immediately scanning you. She seemed to assess you for a brief second before smiling.

"Hello, darling." Her voice was husky from sleep, and she turned off the stove to give you her full attention.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head toward the scene before you. “Hm… where are the staff?”

Rio let out a dramatic sigh. “The cook had to step away, and now I’m paying the price for never learning how to cook.”

You looked at the frying pan and tried to hide a grimace. The bacon was reduced to ashes, and the pan looked like a war victim.

Rio followed your gaze and shook her head in resignation. “Before you say anything—yes, I know it looks bad. But I think it’s still edible.”

You let out a soft laugh, stepping closer. “I can try…” You gestured toward the stove, offering sincerely.

Rio crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I’ll manage.” But her eyes betrayed her hesitation as they flicked to the ruined food.

“I’d really like to try.” Your voice came out softer than expected.

Rio held your gaze for a moment, then smiled and stepped back, giving you space.

As you cracked eggs into a new pan, you glanced at her casually. “Where’s Agatha?”

Rio leaned against the counter, watching you with amusement in her eyes. “Still asleep. Aggie is not a morning person.”

The way she said it, with a touch of affection hidden in her tone, made you smile without even realizing it.

Rio just leaned slightly against the counter, arms crossed as she observed you. “Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice low, almost casual, but you could feel the weight behind the words.

“Yes... I think so,” you replied, not entirely sure. “I mean... I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn’t want to cause trouble for you or Agatha.”

Rio let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Trouble? Girl, you don’t know what trouble is.” Her expression softened quickly, almost as if she wanted to correct herself. “What happened yesterday was... unexpected, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

You lowered your gaze, unsure how to respond. It was always like this with Rio—she said so much in so few words, yet it felt like she was holding back even more.

With a light sigh, you placed the scrambled eggs and bacon on a plate and stepped closer, serving her almost ceremoniously. Your hesitant fingers brushed over her hand in a gesture that surprised both you and the slightly intrigued expression on Rio’s face.

“Rio, I—” you began, your voice carrying something between hesitation and need. “I wanted to thank you… for helping my brother. He was really happy.”

Josh’s satisfied voice and smile from that day flashed in your memory—you were happy for your brother. But something was still missing, and you knew it.

Rio watched you for a moment before her expression softened slightly. A hint of satisfaction flickered in her gaze.

“I told you I’d help, didn’t I?”

“Yes…” You nodded, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Something inside you knew you had to choose your words carefully, had to find a way to address what really mattered. “And I’m very grateful. But… what about my job?”

You noticed the subtle shift in Rio’s posture. Her body tensed for a brief moment, her thumb tracing an almost imperceptible pattern against your skin before she slowly released your hand.

Rio kept her eyes locked on yours, her dark gaze studying every detail of you with an intensity hard to decipher. She hesitated for a moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was almost gentle—but firm enough to leave no room for debate.

"I’ve thought about it." She subtly twisted the ring on her finger, a distracted habit, as if carefully choosing her words. "You already have a job, bunny. Your internship with Agatha."

You felt the weight of that sentence. It was true, but it wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“But the internship isn’t paid,” you argued, frowning. “And I—”

“—And you don’t need to worry about that,” Rio interrupted softly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Money shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but something in her tone made your voice falter.

“Maybe…” Rio tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing along your wrist absentmindedly, sending a strange shiver down your spine. “An allowance could be a solution. You could focus on your studies, on what really matters, without having to chase after some random job.”

Her words hit you in a strange way, something warm and unsettling spreading in your chest.

“An allowance?” You repeated, more to buy time than out of real confusion.

Rio smiled slightly, as if your surprise was endearing. As if you were being stubborn for refusing something so simple.

"Yeah, little one. You don’t need to worry about these things." She tightened her grip on your wrist, almost like a warning. "Leave that to me."

You bit your lip, feeling your pride twist inside you, that old need for independence screaming at you not to accept it. You had always handled things on your own. You always knew that relying on others meant giving them power over you. But Rio already had power over you, didn’t she?

And deep down, something about the way she said leave that to me made your stomach sink in a way you weren’t sure was fear or something else.

Before your thoughts could go any further, the unmistakable sound of Agatha’s heels echoed through the kitchen. Each step felt deliberately measured, filling the space with her presence before she even fully appeared.

She walked in—impeccable, as always—dressed in black with an almost cruel elegance. Her flawless brown hair cascaded in waves, framing her sharp features and enhancing her poised stance. Her gaze landed on you immediately, assessing every detail of your presence. But to your surprise, there was no trace of anger or impatience—just that ever-present intensity in her eyes.

"Good morning." Agatha’s voice was soft but carried an undeniable authority. You felt your face heat up, memories of the previous night rushing back. Your eyes dropped to the cup in your hands.

"Good morning," you replied, barely above a whisper. After a moment of silence, you hesitated before adding, "Agatha, I... about last night... I’m sorry."

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem surprised by your attempt at an apology. "There’s no need to repeat that," she said, reaching for a slice of bread. Her tone wasn’t cold, but there was a hint of impatience, making it clear she had no interest in dwelling on the past.

"But I—" you started, your voice slightly trembling.

"It’s over," she cut you off, her gaze now fixed on you. "I accept your apology. It’s not something we’ll be revisiting."

Agatha glided over to the counter, stopping beside Rio and pulling her in for a kiss—one that you, despite your lack of experience, could tell was anything but ordinary.

They kissed with an intensity you had never seen before, so tangible that you felt your cheeks flush just from watching. Agatha’s hands slid along the curve of Rio’s waist, pulling her closer, as if trying to fuse their bodies together.

The tension between them was palpable, anything but discreet, like a silent electric current. Rio took a step to the side, slightly unsteady, still intoxicated by her wife’s scent.

Agatha took your nearly empty cup from your hands with a gesture that was both gentle and firm. For a brief moment, her fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. She turned the cup between her fingers as if she were evaluating something beyond what the eye could see before handing it back to you.

"I see you're ready," she said, her voice low, charged with authority—but lacking the sharpness you had expected. "We leave in five minutes."

Rio cast a quick glance at Agatha but said nothing, merely stirring her coffee again, a nearly imperceptible smile on her lips.

A tense silence followed, but Agatha’s directness felt more like a relief than anything else. You nodded slowly, your cheeks still warm, and focused on drinking your hot chocolate.

You nearly choked on it. "What?"

She arched an eyebrow again, as if daring you to question her. "You heard me. Go get your things."

"I can go alone, you know. There's no need to worry," you tried to argue—more out of reflex than actual conviction.

"This isn’t up for discussion," she replied, sharp but not unkind. There was something in her expression that made it seem as though, despite her tone, the decision was final—and, in some way, more about her than about you.

Rio watched the interaction in silence, a faint smile playing on her lips but not interfering. When you hesitated, unsure whether to argue further, Agatha tilted her head slightly, as if gauging your reaction.

"Trust me, dear," she finally said, her tone low and layered with a deeper meaning.

You nodded, a little nervous but also strangely moved by the gesture. Something about the way she said it felt... protective, even if it was masked by her usual stern demeanor.

"Then go," Agatha repeated, and you nearly jumped from your seat, mumbling another "thank you" before hurrying off to your room.

As soon as you disappeared down the hall, Rio spoke, breaking the silence. "You're going to scare her off with that approach, you know?"

Agatha took a sip of her coffee, not taking her eyes off the door you had just walked through. "But I didn’t do anything," she said, turning her attention back to her phone.

Rio let out a low chuckle, shaking her head, but said nothing more.

The car slid smoothly through the city streets. The muffled hum of the engine filled the almost oppressive silence inside the vehicle. You sat in the passenger seat, your hands restless in your lap, trying to focus on the passing urban landscape outside the window. But it was impossible to ignore Agatha’s presence beside you—the scent of her perfume, her impeccable posture, the way she held the steering wheel with an almost exaggerated elegance.

You had always found her intimidating, but at that moment, the proximity was unsettling. Part of you wanted to stay silent, to respect her quiet nature, but another part—the more impulsive and anxious one—couldn’t stand the idea of letting the ride pass without saying something.

Should you speak? About what? And how could you make it sound natural?

Ignoring all the intrusive thoughts, you adjusted your posture in the leather seat and focused on the view outside, as if looking at her was too difficult. Then, you decided to take a risk.

"I’ve been thinking about your films..." Your voice sounded hesitant, and you immediately wanted to bite your tongue, but you pushed forward. "It’s impossible not to admire how you... bring stories to life."

Agatha arched a brow slightly, which already felt like a victory. You swallowed hard and rushed to continue.

"For example, Whispers in the Dark..." you began, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I’ve watched it at least ten times. It’s brilliant. The way you film the characters’ eyes... it’s like the silence speaks louder than the words. And that play of light and shadow? It feels like every scene has a hidden layer, like you want the audience to feel like voyeurs but without knowing exactly what they’re witnessing."

Agatha didn’t answer immediately, but you noticed the corner of her lips twitch in a barely perceptible smile.

"You noticed that..." she said, her voice low and faintly surprised. "Few understand the true intention behind that film. It wasn’t meant to be obvious... it was meant to be unsettling."

"And it is. Impossible not to be, actually..." you said quickly, encouraged by the fact that she hadn’t cut you off. "That scene where Diana is alone in the room, looking into the mirror, and the camera focuses on her reflection but never on her real face? It’s like... like the reflection is more real than she is. Like she’s hiding who she really is. That was your intention, wasn’t it?"

Agatha’s eyes finally left the road and landed on you for a brief second. Something flickered in the deep blue—maybe recognition, or maybe a hint of pleasure at seeing someone grasp her intent.

"Hmm... Observant," she admitted, her tone almost praising but still laced with her usual reserve. "The reflection represented what she couldn’t admit to herself. The audience was supposed to feel that discomfort, that duality."

You nodded eagerly, feeling your heart race. "I felt that! It was like... like I was invading her privacy, but at the same time, she wanted to be seen. It’s so rare to find a film that makes you feel something that visceral."

Agatha smiled again, this time more noticeably, her lips curving into a gesture that seemed to know too much—almost like a silent challenge. The movement brought out the soft lines around her eyes, an expression that was as confident as it was disarming.

"You really have a good eye, don’t you?" she said, her voice low, husky, carrying something that made your heart race.

"I can’t help it," you replied, feeling your mouth act before your brain. The words came out laced with a raw honesty you didn’t know you had the courage to verbalize. "Your films are… different. They get under your skin. Mine, at least."

Agatha’s eyes flickered toward the road, but something in her posture shifted subtly. Her shoulders, once so rigid, relaxed almost imperceptibly, and silence settled between you. But it wasn’t an empty silence. It was heavy, dense, as if the words left unsaid hovered between you, filling every inch of the car with a nearly palpable tension.

As the car began to slow, Agatha parked with precision a few blocks from the university. She kept her gaze fixed on the steering wheel for a moment before speaking, her voice low but commanding:

"You get out here."

The order was direct, breaking the small spell of the moment. You knew it was inevitable, but still, the coldness of her words made something inside you wither. Of course, you couldn’t be seen together. Any "special treatment" you were getting had to remain a well-kept secret.

You were about to reach for your backpack in the backseat when she continued:"I’m giving a lecture today. I want you there."

The surprise made you freeze. "M-me?"

Finally, she turned to you, and her eyes held you captive. It was as if she were stripping you bare with that gaze, assessing you, testing you, but also… desiring you. She adjusted the collar of your blouse, her fingers grazing the skin of your neck. "Yes. Pay attention."

"I will," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, unable to hide the small smile forming on your lips. But as you leaned down to grab your backpack from the car floor, the unexpected happened.

Agatha’s hand reached for it at the same time as yours, and the touch was brief but charged with electricity.

The tips of her fingers brushed against yours, and the simple contact sent a shiver down your spine, heat rising to your cheeks and trailing down paths you tried to ignore.

She didn’t pull her hand away immediately. On the contrary, she pressed her fingers against yours with a firm but gentle touch, as if trying to hold you in place. Her gaze dropped to the small scar on your finger from yesterday’s cut. She brushed over it lightly, and you shivered at the touch—so subtle, so unlike anything you’d expect from Agatha.

She leaned in, just enough that your noses almost touched. Her perfume—floral and mysterious, a forbidden garden of black roses—wrapped around you, leaving you frozen, unable to look away from those piercing blue eyes that now seemed to consume you whole.

Her proximity was intoxicating, like standing at the edge of a cliff, feeling the rush of a possible fall.

"Behave for me. Be good for me." She whispered, her voice trembling, full of promise and control. Every word seemed to sink straight into your core, your clit pulsing, reverberating in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You nodded, your breath caught in your throat, as if your entire body were tangled up in hers. The way she held your hand was contradictory—possessive yet incredibly delicate. It was as if she were studying you, playing with you like a cat with its prey.

Then, just as quickly as she had leaned in, Agatha pulled away, releasing your hand slowly, almost reluctantly, and handing you your backpack with a precise movement. The car door opened, but you were still dazed, her touch burning into your skin as if she had left an invisible mark.

"I’ll be," you repeated, your voice weaker than you intended, your eyes still locked onto hers. There was something in the way she looked at you—like she already knew the effect she had on you. Like she already knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

She didn’t reply. As soon as you closed the door and took a few steps, the car drove off smoothly, disappearing around the corner. You stood there for a few seconds, heart pounding. For the first time, you felt like you had carved out a small space within the fortress that was Agatha Harkness.

You walked through the hallways, your heart still racing—not from academic pressure, but from the fresh memory of Agatha. Of course, her lecture was the highlight of the day, and everyone seemed excited about it, but what you felt was something entirely different. Nervousness mixed with admiration and… something deeper you preferred not to analyze too much.

At the entrance of your classroom, Peter was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a mischievous smile on his face. Next to him, Darcy was scrolling through her phone with a bored expression, probably mentally complaining about something.

"Finally!" Peter exclaimed when he saw you. "I thought you’d been kidnapped by that grumpy cat."

"Lucky is not grumpy," you replied, trying to hide a smile.

"But he’s definitely not friendly," Darcy added without looking up from her phone. "Shit." She huffed, sounding frustrated.

"What’s wrong?" you asked.

"I’m trying to see if anyone backed out of Harkness’s lecture. Come on! They announced it so suddenly that I didn’t have time to sign up. There are literally no spots left!" Darcy whined. You knew how much she admired Agatha.

And the fact that you needed to register just to be in the same room as her didn’t surprise you. If anything, it made more sense now. Agatha was a busy woman—she wouldn’t waste her time with an audience that didn’t know what they wanted.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your phone.

"Maybe I can help," you said, unlocking it and looking for your message thread with Agatha.

Darcy scoffed, incredulous.

"So, just because you work there now, you have her personal number?"

Yes. Exactly.

"No! Are you crazy? I’ll talk to her assistant."

You typed a message:

Hey. Are you very busy? I need help with something, if you’re available. :)

The response didn’t take long:

I’m always busy. But I can try to help you, dear.

Her tone felt so characteristic, even in text. You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks heat up as your mind drifted back to earlier—her fingers tracing your scar. Suddenly, your finger tingled.

You let out a shaky breath as you composed your next message.

A friend of mine couldn't get a spot for your lecture.

The reply came even faster this time

A little responsibility would do her good.

You could practically hear Agatha saying those words.

Please! She's a fan. The kind who knows everything about you but would probably be speechless if she got too close.

There was a pause before the next message, as if Agatha were weighing each word. You felt anxious and decided to nudge her for a response.

It's okay if it's not possible, but I thought I'd ask…

This time, the reply was swift.

I can make an exception. Just one. Send her name to my assistant.

You smiled, relieved yet nervous at the same time. When you looked up, Darcy was still staring at you, full of expectation.

"Well?!" she practically shouted. "You have a guaranteed spot," you replied, trying not to let the chaos inside you show.

Darcy let out a squeal of excitement, pulling you into a tight hug. "You're an angel! An angel, I swear!"

"Don't push your luck twice," Peter murmured, though there was a smirk at the corner of his lips.

As Darcy continued celebrating, you glanced back at your phone screen.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You're incredible.

The response came like a whisper at the back of your mind.

I'm very pleased to know you think so, darling.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you put your phone away, hiding the smile threatening to surface. She was happy, and she had let you know it. She was a mystery, but you felt like you were beginning to decipher a few pieces—even if they only led to more questions.

[…]

Professor Calderu entered the classroom with her usual presence, heavy with authority. She set her bag on the desk and scanned the room with that piercing gaze that made everyone instinctively sit up straighter.

"Good morning, class. I hope you're ready for something different today. We'll be working in pairs on a mythology writing project," she announced as students started glancing at each other, already searching for partners. "I want you to create an original mystical creature—something that feels real within a narrative, something that could fit into a legend or a folktale. The pairs have already been assigned."

You listened carefully, but your stomach twisted as she began calling names.

"You," she said, pointing at you, then turned to a girl sitting in the corner, half-hidden behind her notebook. "And Alice."

Alice Wu lifted her eyes slowly, her face flushing red with surprise. You offered her an encouraging smile, but she quickly looked away, burying herself back in her notebook.

After class, you made your way to her desk while Peter and Darcy waved exaggeratedly from a distance, whispering things you deliberately ignored.

"Hey, Alice," you said gently, trying not to startle her. "Looks like we’re partners now."

She gave a small nod, still looking at her notebook. "Yeah… looks like it."

An awkward silence settled before you tried again. "I was thinking… since we don’t know each other well, maybe we could meet up to talk? I think it’d help if we got a feel for each other’s ideas before we start creating."

Alice blinked in surprise and finally looked up. Her eyes were large and clear, filled with a certain vulnerability that made you want to get closer. "You… want to go out with me?"

"Yes!" you blurted out quickly. "I mean—not like a date or anything, of course, but—like, for the project. Unless you'd rather do everything online?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no! In person is always better. I just… didn’t expect this. No one usually invites me to anything."

"Well, then it’s about time that changed," you said with a sincere smile.

Alice finally smiled back, shy but genuine. "Okay. When do you want to meet?"

"How about after Agatha’s lecture? I really need to see it, but we can plan something after," you suggested, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice when mentioning Agatha.

Alice nodded again. "Sure. I’ll be free."

The bell rang, and as you said goodbye to Alice, Peter and Darcy approached with amused expressions.

"You’re really a magnet for lonely souls," Darcy commented.

"Or maybe you’re just too nice," Peter added.

"Or maybe you two are insufferable," you retorted, rolling your eyes—but deep down, you were happy. The day had started out strange, but maybe it was getting better—or at least, more interesting.

[…]

The room filled up within minutes. Students, professors, and even a few industry professionals murmured excitedly, the air thick with admiration and anticipation. You slipped in quietly, gripping the strap of your backpack, scanning for a more secluded seat. You didn’t want to draw attention—not here, not now.

Spotting an empty row in the back, you let out a relieved breath, but before you could reach it, a firm hand grasped your wrist.

"Hey, slow down," a familiar voice murmured, low and full of intent.

You turned quickly, only to meet Rio’s charming face.

"Rio?" Your voice came out as a hushed, confused whisper, laced with disbelief.

What was she doing here?

"It’s me, darling," she replied, that disarming smile playing on her lips. The sharp glint in her eyes made it clear she was here for a reason.

You glanced around, checking if anyone had noticed. "What are you doing here?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

Rio leaned in slightly, her tone conspiratorial. "How could I miss this? Agatha hardly ever gives lectures like this. Besides…" She paused dramatically, her gaze flickering to the back row where you had been heading. "You were really going to sit all the way back there?"

"It’s safer. No one will notice me." You tried to justify your choice.

Rio raised an amused eyebrow. "Safe for who? Certainly not for you. Agatha wanted you here, you know?"

Your face heated up. "I know, but… sitting back there is just easier. I don’t need to be… right in front of her."

Rio let out a soft chuckle, unmistakable amusement in her voice. "Oh, darling. Do you really think she won’t notice you? Or worse… that she doesn’t want to?"

Your heart skipped uncomfortably, and you opened your mouth to argue, but Rio didn’t give you the chance.

"Listen, if you stay back here, you’ll miss the important details. Agatha doesn’t like distracted audiences," she murmured, a touch of mischief in her voice. "And trust me, sitting up front won’t be so bad."

"I don’t know, Rio…" You hesitated, still eyeing the more discreet row like it was your lifeline.

Rio tilted her head, an expression of feigned patience crossing her face. "You trust me, don’t you?"

You nodded slowly, still unsure.

"Then come with me," she insisted, tugging at your wrist gently. "Trust me. No one will pay attention to you… except for the one person who actually matters."

She guided you through the rows to a spot near the front—hidden enough to avoid wandering eyes but perfectly positioned for a clear view of the stage.

As you finally sat down, you tried to steady yourself, though it was impossible to ignore the fact that Agatha could definitely see you from here.

Rio sat beside you, crossing her legs with the kind of effortless grace that seemed to come naturally to her.

You whispered, trying to mask your nervousness. "Did she ask you to bring me here?"

Rio turned to you with a cryptic smile, leaning in just enough to whisper back. "Let’s just say I have my ways… but she’ll definitely be pleased to see you here."

Before you could process it, the room’s lights dimmed, and a single spotlight illuminated the stage. Agatha stepped in, her imposing and elegant figure commanding everyone’s attention. She stopped at the center, scanning the audience with a controlled, knowing smile.

For a moment that felt longer than it should have, her eyes found yours. And when they did, the heat in your face spread all the way to your fingertips. You tried to look away, but it was impossible—something about the way she looked at you held you in place.

Beside you, Rio murmured with a satisfied smile, “I told you that you needed to be here.”

The auditorium was packed. There was an electric energy in the air, a mix of excitement and reverence that seemed to follow Agatha Harkness wherever she went. As she took the stage, the sound of applause filled the room, and her smile was devastating—confident, charming, and tinged with that sarcastic humor that made everyone feel like they were part of a private show.

“I hope you’re here to talk about the magic of cinema… and not to ask me for spoilers,” she began, drawing immediate laughter from the audience. “If that were the case, I’d be charging double.”

The warm lights accentuated her flawless skin, her blue eyes gleaming under the glow of the spotlights. “The truth is, directing films is almost like being a witch—you manipulate what people see and feel, deceive the eye, and capture their soul. Hopefully, without using an actual spell.”

The audience was completely spellbound. She explained scene composition techniques, the psychological use of shadows and light, and the power of silence. Every word was laced with irresistible confidence, intertwined with cynical remarks that kept everyone captivated.

“The secret to a great film?” Agatha leaned slightly forward, as if about to reveal something forbidden. “Trick the audience, but make them grateful for it afterward.”

“All jokes aside,” she continued, “making films is like casting magic. Every scene, every cut, every choice of light and sound—it’s all a spell meant to deceive, seduce, and sometimes, transform the audience. But the real art is in the details. And those details… take time, patience, and, of course, a little bit of madness.”

The laughter was softer this time, but the admiring glances were unmistakable. She began detailing her unique approach to filmmaking, highlighting her inspirations for the critically acclaimed Black Flame, a psychological horror film that had become an instant classic.

As Agatha spoke, you felt something—a casual touch on your arm. Beside you, Rio seemed completely absorbed in the presentation, but her hand had drifted to the armrest, brushing against your skin with an unsettling familiarity. You tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was an innocent gesture, but the touch was insistent, deliberate.

“… the trick is to make the audience feel like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be,” Agatha said, her voice like poisoned honey, seducing every single person in the room.

But as Rio’s touch lingered, something inside you tightened. The warmth of that simple contact began spreading across your skin, slow and devastating. Her fingers slipped over the thin fabric of your clothes, trailing down to the curve of your hip with ease. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, trying to make no sound.

Her hand moved dangerously close to your thighs, the motion so casual yet so ruinous. She didn’t even look at you, her eyes fixed on the stage as if she were doing nothing at all. But you knew. Your body knew.

Heat climbed up your neck, and you shifted slightly in your seat, struggling to keep your composure. A part of you wanted to push her away, break free from this trance. After all, they were married. This was wrong. Right?

“Rio…” you whispered, trying to sound firm, but your voice came out shakier than you wanted.

“Shh,” she replied, her gaze still locked on Agatha, as if nothing was happening. “Agatha is speaking.”

You tried to focus, but Rio’s hand was now so close to your center that you could barely breathe. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, the rising heat almost unbearable. Her long, skilled fingers inched closer, and you had to bite your lip to stifle a sound.

“You’re trembling, bunny…” Rio whispered, her voice rough with amusement. “Pay attention. Aggie won’t like it if you miss this.”

The nickname sent a full-body shiver through you, a strangled breath caught in your throat. You tried to focus on Agatha’s words, but the firm grip of Rio’s hand pressing into your aching core was too much, sending waves of heat straight to your senses.

With your heart racing, you gathered all the strength you had to lift your gaze toward the stage. And that’s when you saw her.

Agatha’s blue eyes were locked onto the two of you, gleaming with something wild and indecipherable. She hadn’t stopped talking, but there was a different lilt to her voice now, an almost taunting cadence.

She knew.

And she wasn’t angry.

On the contrary, there was raw hunger in her gaze—she looked like a ravenous spectator, a voyeur absorbing every detail of the scene unfolding before her. Her attention on you was so intense it nearly stole the air from your lungs.

Rio smirked, as if she could feel the invisible current Agatha was directing toward you both. And then she squeezed your thigh harder, anchoring you even deeper into this impossible moment. Her fingers were now so close to your clit that you could feel the pressure even through your clothes. Each movement was calculated, each touch a promise of something more.

A shiver ran down your spine, blending with the heat already consuming you. Your hips shifted again, craving more of that contact, even knowing it was wrong. It was as if Agatha’s gaze and Rio’s touch were pulling you into a sweet, dangerous abyss, and you had no strength to resist.

“You like this?” Rio murmured, her fingers now pressing with more intent, making you swallow a moan. “Being watched. Being observed.”

You tried to deny it, but your body betrayed you. Your hips moved again, and the damp heat between your thighs was impossible to ignore. Agatha’s gaze felt like it was scorching your skin, and you knew she was seeing everything—every tremor, every movement, every breath you tried to suppress.

“Rio…” you whispered again, but this time, your voice was filled with a need you could no longer disguise.

She hummed, her fingers now circling ever so slowly, so close to your clit that your entire body tensed. “Let her see. Let her know what you’re capable of just to keep her eyes on you.”

“You’re doing so well, little bunny,” Rio purred, pressing firmer, making you bite your lip harder to hold back a sound. “Let her see how good you can be.”

And you surrendered.

Your hips rocked forward once more, and a tremor rippled through you, a wave of pleasure on the verge of breaking. Agatha’s gaze and Rio’s touch were too much, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Agatha’s eyes devoured the scene like a film, her analytical, predatory gaze absorbing the way Rio’s hand moved over you like a painter on a blank canvas. Marking you. Owning you. Each calculated touch carried a wildness, as if she were proving something—to you, to Agatha, or maybe to herself.

Rio saw the hunger in Agatha’s icy blue gaze. She saw the way the woman feigned indifference, answering the audience’s questions with ease. But Rio knew how much this was affecting her.

She knew Agatha wanted more.

You felt the heat rise to your face, but you couldn’t look away from Agatha. Her blue eyes were like an abyss, pulling you in, making you feel exposed, vulnerable, yet incredibly alive. It was as if she could see every part of you, every secret, every fear, and still didn’t care. Or maybe she cared too much.

Rio chuckled softly, her warm breath against your ear. “She likes you, bunny. She knows you're special.” Her hand slid lower, fingers finding the exact spot that made you gasp. “But you need to show her. You need to prove you’re strong enough.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind your eyelids. It was too much—Rio’s touch, Agatha’s gaze, the pressure building inside you, ready to explode. But you didn’t want it to stop. You couldn’t.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice broken, barely audible.

“Please what?” Rio asked, lips curling into a wicked smile. “You have to ask, darling. Tell me what you want.”

You looked at Agatha, searching for some form of salvation, but she only raised an eyebrow, waiting. It was as if she was testing you, seeing how far you were willing to go.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice a little steadier this time. “I want… I want to show her.”

Rio let out a satisfied hum. “That’s my girl.” Her hand moved faster, fingers pressing with a precision that made you moan loudly. “Then show her. Show her how good you can be.”

And you did. Your body arched, muscles tensing as the wave of pleasure finally crashed over you, sweeping you away like a tide. You wanted to scream, but the sound was muffled by the palm of your hand.

When you finally opened your eyes, Agatha was still there, watching with that calculating stare, but now there was something else in her eyes. Something that looked almost… proud.

“Good girl,” Rio murmured, her voice soft but heavy with meaning. “You did well.”

You felt a different kind of heat rise to your face, but this time it wasn’t shame. It was something deeper, more intense. Something you couldn’t name.

What the fuck just happened?

—

The event had been a resounding success. The room was still filled with people talking, laughing, discussing the most striking moments of the interview. You, however, stood in the corner, watching as Agatha and Rio were surrounded by journalists, photographers, and assistants. They were as dazzling as ever, the perfect combination of authority and charisma.

You gathered your courage and decided to approach. It was nothing major—you just wanted to congratulate Agatha on the show and let her know you were heading out with Alice. But as you tried to weave through the crowd, an invisible wall seemed to rise around you.

One of Agatha’s assistants intercepted your path.

“Sorry, miss, but she’s busy at the moment,” he said with a polite yet firm smile.

You tried to argue, but another journalist slipped past you, invading the space you had been trying to reach. Agatha didn’t even glance to the side. Rio stood beside her, laughing softly at something a reporter had said. You waited, remained still, hoping at least one of them would notice you.

Nothing.

A tightness formed in your chest, a bitter and unexpected sensation. You knew they were busy, that this was their world, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow. It hurt more than it should. At that moment, it was as if you were invisible to both of them.

You took a deep breath, trying to push down the sting of rejection. “Ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, feeling the lump in your throat threaten to form. They had no obligation to notice you, but… that wasn’t what you wanted. Not after everything.

Lowering your shoulders, you sighed and turned away, leaving the room before anyone could catch the glint of disappointment in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, as you walked toward the exit, you pulled out your phone and typed a message to Agatha.

Tonight was incredible. You are incredible! I’m heading out with a friend. Be back soon :)

You hesitated before sending it, your thumb hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to delete the message. It wasn’t urgent, and maybe she wouldn’t even have time to read it, but another part insisted. It was your way of not disappearing completely, of reminding her that you were there.

After hitting “send,” you slipped your phone back into your pocket and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the discomfort in your chest as you walked off to meet Alice. You tried to convince yourself you had no reason to feel this way, but the truth was, in that moment, you felt far too small for the vast, glittering world those two women seemed to reign over.

—

You met Alice at the café near the university. It was a small, cozy place, with string lights hanging from the ceiling and the constant scent of freshly ground coffee in the air. Alice was already seated at a corner table, a thick book open in front of her, her hands fidgeting slightly. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her round glasses seemed a bit too big for her delicate face. She smiled shyly when she saw you.

“Hey, Alice,” you said, pulling out the chair across from her. “Hope you didn’t wait too long.”

“No, I got here early,” she replied, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “It’s hard to concentrate in the library, so… I thought this might be easier.”

You chuckled, trying to put her at ease. “Seems like a good place to conjure mystical beings, huh? Nothing like coffee and a little chaos for inspiration.”

Alice smiled for real this time, a small but genuine expression. “I agree. So… do you have any ideas yet? You seem more creative than I am.”

“Creative? Me? I think you’re being generous,” you replied, leaning in slightly. “But maybe we can start with something we both like. Witches, maybe?”

Alice’s eyes lit up. “I love witch stories! But it has to be something different… something we haven’t seen before.”

The conversation with Alice continued for another hour until, with a thoughtful expression, she rested her chin on her hands, elbows propped on the table.

“What if we start with an ancient legend?” she suggested, her eyes shining with a quiet enthusiasm. “Something that feels like it’s been around for thousands of years but has an air of mystery, you know? Like the kind of story people whisper just to scare others…”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what, for example?”

Alice tilted her head slightly, as if fishing for words in the air. Then she began, her voice lower, more enthralling, almost conspiratorial.

“They say that millions of years ago, there was a witch so powerful she didn’t even have to lift a finger to destroy someone. She didn’t cast grand spells or throw curses… She did something far more cruel. She drained people’s life energy, but not in an obvious way, you know?”

A shiver ran down your spine, though you tried to convince yourself it was just the atmosphere of the moment. “Drained life energy? How so?”

You tried not to react, but her words hit you like a stone. What Alice was describing sounded dangerously familiar.

“Did she do it for pleasure?” Your voice came out weaker than you intended.

Alice shook her head slowly, her gaze distant. “No. Not exactly. I think, deep down, she did it because she felt like it was the only way to survive. As if there was an emptiness inside her that could never be filled. Every bit of energy she took from another person was like a desperate attempt to fill that void.”

You felt a pang in your heart. "How did she do that?" The words left your mouth as if they were forbidden.

Alice looked at you—thinking, thinking, and thinking. "I’m not sure," she shrugged. "But they say she always seemed so charming, so irresistible. People fell into her web without even realizing it."

You crossed your arms, averting your gaze to the table. "And no one ever managed to stop her?"

"They say there was one person," Alice replied, lowering her voice even more, as if afraid someone nearby might overhear. "A woman who confronted her. Not with hatred or violence, and that made the woman equally consumed."

For a moment, the café around you disappeared. You could only think about Alice's words and the weight they carried.

Alice noticed your silence and let out an awkward laugh, adjusting her glasses. "Sorry, I think I went too far, right? Maybe this is too dark for a college assignment."

You forced a smile, trying to hide the internal confusion. "No, it's great. I actually think it’s amazing. I think… it could work."

Alice smiled, somewhat relieved. "Cool. I think we can work on this more, right? Develop the witch, add more details about her story."

"Yes," you replied, your voice soft but still distant. "Definitely."

You arrived home with a lightness you hadn’t felt in a long time. The fatigue of the day clung to your muscles, but a quiet satisfaction coursed through your chest. Things finally seemed to be falling into place—small fragments of hope composing a life you hadn't imagined possible.

Kicking off your shoes at the entrance, you took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of home embrace you. You climbed the stairs slowly, each step bringing a sense of comfort and belonging. Until then, everything felt normal.

But as you approached the hallway leading to the bedrooms, something different sharpened your senses. Low, muffled sounds escaped down the quiet corridor. Moans. Heavy breathing.

Their bedroom door was slightly ajar.

Your heart pounded, hesitating for a moment, but your feet disobeyed logic—you moved closer, as if pulled by an invisible magnet. When your eyes finally met the narrow gap of the door, the air caught in your lungs.

Rio was on top of Agatha, her hips moving in a frantic, calculated rhythm, their bodies glistening under the room’s soft light. The sight was almost brutal in its beauty—wild, intense, unfiltered. The expression of pure pleasure on Rio’s face made something inside you tighten and pulse violently.

Rio arched her body, every muscle taut as her hips thrust rhythmically against Agatha, who writhed beneath her, head thrown back, exposing her sweaty, vulnerable neck. The room was saturated with obscene sounds—ragged moans, the muffled creak of the bed, and the wet, merciless slap of their bodies colliding.

The strap-on Rio wore moved with an almost brutal precision. Even knowing she couldn’t physically feel it, the dark, feverish look in her eyes suggested otherwise—as if every deep thrust was a direct reflection of the pleasure consuming her body. Her lips were slightly parted, breathing erratic, and her hands gripped Agatha’s waist firmly, keeping her in place as her movements became faster and more reckless.

"Fuck," Rio panted, chest rising and falling frantically. "You’re so fucking tight… I can feel everything."

Agatha cried out, a rough, desperate sound, her nails raking down Rio’s back. Her hips lifted instinctively, seeking more, demanding more. Her expression was a mix of ecstasy and agony, blue eyes nearly shut, shining under the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

"Deeper," Agatha begged, voice hoarse and shameless. "Don’t stop… I want you to tear me apart from the inside."

The provocation made Rio growl like an animal, her thrusts becoming even more intense. She leaned in, pressing the weight of her breasts against Agatha’s, their faces so close their breaths intertwined.

"Like this?" Rio snarled in her ear, her voice vibrating with a possessive power that left Agatha teetering on the edge of insanity. "Tell me, my love… do you like being fucked by me like this?"

Agatha couldn’t respond with words—only a strangled moan escaped her lips, her desperate fingers now digging into Rio’s shoulders, as if holding onto her was the only thing keeping her anchored to reality.

The bed rocked beneath the intensity of their movements, the scent of sweat and desire hanging heavy in the air. Rio remained steady, muscles flexing as the relentless rhythm of the strap-on dragged louder, more desperate moans from Agatha.

'Cause you, you touch

My skin peels off like paint

But beneath all of our panting

There’s this noise I cannot shake

The scene before you was unbearable in so many ways that you no longer knew where shock ended and desire began. Rio moved like a merciless goddess, her hips working in a brutal rhythm, while Agatha arched beneath her, screaming for her with raw, unfiltered vulnerability. The soft glow of the lamp cast delicious shadows over their sweaty skin, their entwined bodies forming a spectacle that sent your heart racing and heat pooling between your legs.

You should leave. It was wrong, absurdly wrong, but your legs felt glued to the floor, as if the half-open door was a magnet keeping you there, entranced. Your eyes couldn’t tear away from Rio—the predatory gaze, the intensity with which she claimed Agatha, as if she were possessed.

And then it happened.

"Did you see her?" Her voice cut through the silence like a hot knife, laced with something indecent and possessive.

What?

Can’t you hear that scratching?

There’s something at the door

"I would’ve gone insane if I hadn’t touched her in that moment." Her movements intensified, drawing a sharp gasp from Agatha. "Did you like it? Did you like watching us from up there?"

Agatha opened her eyes, and there was something feral in them—a deep blue gleam overflowing with jealousy and lust in equal measure. She pushed her body against Rio, gasping with unrestrained need.

But the wind has picked us up now

We’re hanging in the air

And as you grip me like an animal

That you’re about to spear

"I almost ended it," Agatha admitted with a rough chuckle, but it was laced with possession. "Watching you touch her… like she was already yours…" Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "I wanted to rip your hand off and show you she’s mine too."

The impact of the words hit you like a punch to the chest. They were talking about you.

Rio's casual touch earlier, that slow slide of fingers to your inner thigh while Agatha spoke to the audience with all the confidence in the world… It hadn’t been casual, it hadn’t been an innocent accident. It was premeditated. And Agatha had seen it all, enjoyed it all.

Be good to me, I whisper

And you say: What?

And I said: Nothing, dear

The shock dissolved quickly, swallowed by something far more visceral. Your breath grew heavy, lungs seeming unable to draw in enough air. Your thoughts spun, frantic and lascivious, as one memory after another exploded in your mind: the heat of Rio’s lingering touches, Agatha’s intense, possessive gaze when you thought you were off their radar.

Desire. It had always been desire.

Can’t you hear it?

It can hear you

It wants me to

Your heart pounded violently in your chest; a dizzying mix of fear and exhilaration consumed you.

And can’t you hear that scratching?

I ask your eyes

"Oh, my love," Rio murmured against Agatha’s lips, teasing. "You loved watching. You wanted to see her completely lose herself, didn’t you?"

Agatha let out a primal sound, her fingers burying into Rio’s hair, forcing her to look directly at her. "I wanted more than that," she purred. "I wanted to destroy her with you... make her understand there’s no way out for us."

And we fall into each other

The scratching grows so loud

Because that unwanted animal

Wants nothing more than to get out

And I scream: Oh, what’s the time, little Wolf?

But you, you’re blind, you bleat, you bear your claws

You took a deep breath, trying to step away from the scene, but your feet wouldn’t obey. The ache between your legs became unbearable, and you hated admitting how much every indecent word from them made your body vibrate.

"She will be ours," Agatha stated, shamelessly, her eyes half-lidded with uncontrolled pleasure.

Rio moaned deeply, her hips moving even more frantically against Agatha’s body. Sweat glistened on her skin, and each thrust seemed to pull new, pleasure-laden sounds from them both.

Rio’s voice emerged, rough, hungry: "What do you want to do to her?" Her teeth grazed Agatha’s pale neck before sinking in just enough to leave a mark. "I need you to tell me…"

And you rip my rib cage open

And devour what’s truly yours

And our screaming joins in unison

I cry out to the lord

Agatha gasped at the question’s impact, her fingers digging into Rio’s shoulders as the sexual tension exploded around them. Her blue eyes, now wild and gleaming, stared at the ceiling as if she were envisioning a scene too forbidden, too intense to be contained in simple words.

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough

To God, I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

"Oh, I want to make her cry. Watch those beautiful eyes looking at me, begging for anything… anything, fuck," Agatha whispered, her voice thick with lust and something dangerously possessive. "I want to see her trembling under my hands… begging for it. To be mine."

Rio let out a deep, guttural moan, her movements growing even more urgent. "You want to break her, don’t you?"

Can’t you hear it?

It can hear you

It wants me to

"And rebuild her the right way. My way," Agatha murmured, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "She deserves to feel everything. The pain. The pleasure. The need to serve."

The tension between them built, almost unbearable, and you couldn’t hold back the trembling sigh that escaped your lips at hearing those words. The sound made Agatha pause for a brief second before she smirked slowly, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she turned her head to Rio.

A soft moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it. Your hand trembled as it slid inside your pajama pants, fingers finding warm, damp skin.

But that second wind is coming, love, it’s coming for all we own

And on the creature scratches, it doesn’t know how to get out (let me out)

And you, you follow philosophies

But me, I laugh, I choke

You tried to be discreet, silent, but your body was on fire, pulsing with a desperate urgency that could no longer be ignored. The moans of the two women in the bedroom only worsened things, each thrust of Rio pulling cries from Agatha that echoed through the house like forbidden music.

Well hello, my hollow Holofernes

I wink but you don’t get the joke

Hold the hand of the God-child, they said

As she falls from the sky

Your fingers moved in slow, needy circles, the soft fabric of your pajama pants brushing against your sensitive skin as you touched yourself. Pleasure radiated through your body, growing more intense by the second, the muscles in your legs already trembling as you lost yourself in the sensation.

You bit your lip hard to muffle a moan, your knees threatening to give out. But none of that mattered. You wanted this. Needed it.

Be good to me, I beg of her

Be good to me, I beg of her

Be good be good be good be good be good be good be good

Agatha’s intense gaze still seemed to burn in your mind, even as she moaned Rio’s name, her nails digging into her wife’s back.

And Rio… oh, Rio seemed to feel everything. Each movement of the strap-on seemed to reflect directly in her body, as if she were completely connected to the pleasure she was giving.

Agatha arched violently, a sharp cry tearing through the air as her orgasm consumed her in almost brutal waves, her muscles clenching around the nothing she so desperately wished to be filled.

Rio kept moving, prolonging every spasm of pleasure, her own body trembling with the sheer intensity of the scene—as if the simple sight of Agatha lost in that state was enough to bring her to the edge.

When she finally slowed, both women lay still for a moment, breathing heavily. The silence that settled over the room was thick, charged with the memory of the wild pleasure that still lingered between them.

The air around you felt too heavy, impossible to breathe, but you kept going. Your fingers moved with more precision, searching for that spot that would send you over the edge. And when you found it, it was as if the ground disappeared beneath your feet.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a hot, overwhelming orgasm tore through your body in waves, leaving you trembling and almost too weak to stand.

When your eyes finally opened, the scene was still before you—Agatha and Rio still trapped in that frantic cycle of pleasure, completely unaware of your presence. And you, leaning against the wall beside the door, your chest rising and falling rapidly, knew that something inside you had changed forever.

And she replies

No, no, not I.

~*~

After this there is no way to turning back.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

@aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06

@absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella

[multific]

Between Prey and Partner

Yautja x Reader

Summary: Trapped on a different planet with only a Yautja. You didn't know how you got there or why.

You did not know how you got here.

One moment, you had been surrounded by the familiar.

Then, a flash.

A sensation like freefalling without an end.

Now, you stood on alien ground, under a sky too wide, too red, where distant moons hung like silent sentinels.

You were alone.

Or so you thought.

The first time you saw him, the Yautja, your blood ran cold. You had heard the stories. Creatures bred for the hunt, ruthless, precise, unrelenting.

You were human. Weak by their standards. The outcome should have been inevitable.

And yet, the killing blow never came.

Instead, a silent truce was formed.

Perhaps necessity forced it, this planet was a death trap, filled with creatures that saw you both as prey. You could not afford to be enemies.

You did not trust him, and he certainly did not trust you. All you knew, you had to survive.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

What started as a partnership out of the need for survival grew into something more.

The Yautja was stronger, faster, and able to hunt with precision that left you in awe. You, in turn, were clever, resourceful, and skilled at problem-solving in ways that defied strength.

Together, you built shelter, weapons, and defences. Together, you thrived.

And in the quiet moments, when he watched over you as you slept, when his claws, usually so sharp, so deadly, brushed against your skin without harm, something else took root.

Love. Or at least the beginning of it.

You did not speak the same language, not entirely.

But understanding was forged in glances, in gestures, in the way he stood close when danger was near, in the way he offered you the best of his kills before taking his share. In the way his body tensed when you were injured, as though the pain you felt was his.

You two began to share a bed, his body keeping you shielded and warm during the cold nights.

You began to grow happy with your life here on this dangerous planet.

Then you found the tablet.

At first, you had only meant to explore. The Yautja kept few things hidden from you, but this… this had been tucked away, out of sight. You powered it on, expecting perhaps a map, a record of his kind.

What you found instead shattered you.

Logs. Data entries. The original purpose of this planet.

You were not here by accident. You had been brought here to be hunted. You had been prey.

And he… he had been your hunter.

Tears filled your eyes as you turned to face him, the weight of betrayal crushing your chest.

He must have sensed it immediately, the way your body stiffened, the way your gaze no longer held warmth but something sharp and cold.

"You lied to me," your voice trembled, fists clenching at your sides. "This whole time, you were meant to kill me."

He did not deny it.

He stood still, his massive form a shadow against the firelight, golden eyes unreadable.

But you saw it now, the hesitation from the beginning, the unspoken conflict in his silence, the way his hands curled and uncurled as if resisting some deeper instinct.

"Why?" you choked out. "Why did you keep me alive? Why pretend?"

A growl rumbled from his chest, but it was not one of anger.

If anything, he looked pained.

"Not… pretend," he said, his voice rough with unused human words. "Changed. When saw you."

Your heart slammed against your ribs, but you were too furious, too devastated to let his words reach you. "Changed? How convenient. I was supposed to be a trophy, wasn’t I? A prize for your hunt. And now what? I’m just—what? Another possession? A pet?"

His mandibles flared, his breathing heavy. "No. Not possession or pet. Not prey."

You shook your head, stepping back. He reached for you.

For the first time, he looked lost, as if he did not know how to bridge the chasm that had opened between you.

"I trusted you," you whispered, your voice raw. "I-"

But you couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit that your heart had already given itself to him long before you even realized it.

You just headed to the bed and cried your heart out.

You did not speak to him for days after that. You could not bring yourself to.

And yet, he did not leave.

He did not beg, did not try to force words from you. Instead, he remained close. Guarded you. Hunted for you. Tended to your wounds in silence when danger inevitably came for you both.

The things he had always done. But now, you could see it for what it was.

Regret.

The walls you had built around yourself cracked slowly. You caught glimpses of him during the quiet moments, his head bowed when he thought you weren’t looking, the careful way he placed food near you but never too close, as if afraid you would reject it. As if afraid you would reject him.

It took time. More time than either of you wanted. But eventually, you found yourself beside him once more, the weight of your anger faded, exhaustion settling in its place.

"You really weren’t going to kill me?" you asked at last, breaking the silence.

He exhaled, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "Never."

You swallowed, heart aching. "Then why didn’t you tell me?"

His clawed fingers twitched, hesitant. "Did not know… how. Did not want you to fear."

A bitter laugh left your lips. "I was afraid. But not of you. Of what we have. Of what it meant and will grow into."

He rumbled low, the sound vibrating in his chest, something sorrowful and tender in its depths. "Still afraid?"

You looked at him then, really looked at him, the hunter who had spared you, the warrior who had become your shield, the creature who had, against all odds, chosen you.

And you chose him.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his mandibles. He stilled beneath your touch as if your acceptance was a fragile thing that could shatter at any moment. He was afraid to move.

"Not anymore," you murmured.

And when he pulled you into his arms, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the universe, you knew you had forgiven him.

Not because he had asked.

But because love had never been a hunt, it had always been a choice.

And you had made yours.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Taking Root 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Bucky and Leaf.

Summary: a neighbourly connection might be more than chance.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Steve should be happy. Bucky is outside. He’s taken to having his coffee on the balcony. Alpine too as she swirls around his ankles. He sits in the folding chair and sighs over the dark roast. 

The air is soft and dewy. The moisture foretells brewing showers. He can smell the rain already. 

Her door snaps on its hinges. Her footfalls clap in her fuzzy slippers and she lets out a wispy gasp. He acts just as surprised as he peers down onto her balcony. 

“Oh, you’re out here!” She clumsily sets her cup down and backs up. She tugs down her sweater bashfully and giggles. “Oops.” 

She awkwardly sidles back through the door then scurries away from sight.  He chews his lip. The image of her thighs clings in his mind. She was wearing those panties that give a peek of the crease of her pelvis and legs, just a hint of what’s beneath. 

She pokes her head sheepishly out and giggles again, “it’s early.” 

“No worries,” his voice is like silt, he’s groggy himself. 

“I... uh... I like to have my tea with my posies,” she trills. “Coffee?” 

He looks down at his mug and it nearly slips from his grasp as Alpine hops onto his lap and knocks it with her head. 

“Yep, apparently she wants me to share,” he strokes her soft head. 

“Oh, she’s so cute. Kitty, kitty,” she makes chittery noises at the cat. “I always had cats before but this place is too small. So I got flowers instead.” 

“Makes sense,” he nods. “Well, Alpine loves company. Guess I bore her...” his heart leaps. Should he? “If you ever want to come meet her...” he sits up, “well, you know, I could also use a second look at these pansies. They’re looking droopy.” 

She hums and slurps her tea, “oh, sure, if it’s not too much trouble, I could spare a few pets for the pretty kitty.” 

Alpine stretches up and purrs, rubbing her head on his chin. He gently drags his hand down her back and she sits. Leaf laughs. 

“Aww, she’s adorable,” she preens. 

So are you, he thinks. 

“Just let me know. I gotta go work today but maybe tomorrow.” 

“Maybe,” he tries not to show the racing of his pulse. “I’ll let you know, Alpine holds grudges so you wouldn’t want to let her down.” 

“How could I?” She sings. 

~ 

It’s lonely. Before, Bucky didn’t notice. He enjoyed the solace. The silence, well, mostly. The neighbours above have heavy feet and the ones to the left of them love to blast music. 

When she’s gone, he’s left to his tinkering. His business keeps him distracted and with a roof over his head. He’s been hoarding any profit he can. He doesn’t want to be here forever. He could afford a storefront soon enough. He could buy a townhouse big enough for both of them. 

He examines the watch. The new strap suits the antique face. He fixes and restores whatever he can. There’s a lot of hipsters out there interested in rusty old bits. 

The rain patters on the window pane. It adds to the grimness of the apartment. If Steve was here, he’d nag him for having the curtains closed. Where is he these days anyway? It’s not a real question, Bucky knows. He's off bothering that woman at the shelter. 

He sighs and gets up. Shut up, Steve. He tugs the curtains apart. It doesn’t add much light. Alpine jumps into the window. Yeah, yeah, I know. 

He pauses as he sees movement from her window. He leans in to see her better. She’s sopping wet. He can just barely make her out in her bedroom through the rivulets. She peels off her shirt and he holds his breath. She turns and he gets a full view of her bra. It follows quickly as she balls it up with her soaked shirt. 

He gulps and stares at her chest. It’s so full and soft. His fingers twitch. Something else too. 

He backs away. If she looked up, she would catch him. Damn. He blows out and stretches as he crosses the apartment. 

Tomorrow. She promised. He drops onto the couch and Alpine skitters off. He hears the clunk of her tree in his room as she hops up on the shelf. She likes to watch the rain and the pigeons and just the world outside. 

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. He sees her on the inside of his eyelids. She’s beside him on the couch. Her shirt off. She’s rubbing his thigh as she giggles that giggle. His jeans get tighter and she puts her hand over it and gasps. 

His zipper splits easily as she pulls him out. She hums as she takes him in her hand. The ache squeezes deep down. She strokes him gently. 

“Tighter,” he groans and his eyes snap open.  

He grips himself until he might burst. He pumps up and down, curling forward as his breath hitches. He shouldn’t do it out here. He doesn’t fucking care. 

He closes his eyes again. He wants her there, in his lap, his face buried in her tits as she rides him. She could play with his hair as he plays with her clit, feel her clench around his dick as she gets close. 

Close! He’s close. 

He cups his hand under his sac and aims his dick up his stomach. He’s going to ruin his shirt but he doesn’t fucking care. He holds onto the vision of her as he growls through his climax, quaking until he’s spent and breathless. 

The rain continues to tempo against the glass, drawing him back to reality. He thinks of her panties and the plushness of her thighs. He purrs. 

The lock twists and his adrenaline surges. Shit. He shoves his dick back in his jeans and hurries away as Steve struggles with the bent key. He closes himself in his room and changes his shirt, wiping inside his pants with the old one. 

“Buck?” Steve calls out as the front door shuts. “You here?” 

“Yeah, here,” Bucky calls baack. 

“You coming?” 

No, I just came, he nearly snorts. He inches open his door. 

“Where?” 

Steve appears at the end of the hall, “to the meeting.” 

“Shit, almost forgot,” Bucky says. “Fine, nothing better to do.” 

[teddypoi-qd]

{ID - Series of tweets from @/grumpwitch about working in a public library:

"Things I have learned about the general public whilst working at the library: 1. A huge number of people under 20 can't face clocks, having grrown up with only digital ones.

2. Many people don't know how to spell "library." It's in our email address. This causes problems.

3. A disturbing number of young people don't actually know how book-lending at the library works. They assume it costs money! Teach your children about libraries!

4. Crime and thriller are basically the same thing in many cases. In fact, we have doubles of books because of that.

5. People use hidden codes like asterisks to mark which books they've read! The system will let you know if you've already borrowed something! Just ask.

6. If an automatic door breaks, people will walk into it instead of reading the sign at face height.

7. Libraries are a godsend for blind and deaf people and not just for audioboks. They can come for help with filling out forms and getting directions.

8. Some elderly people go through books at a TERRIFYING rate. They are to be feared and respected. 9. Some people are so afraid of computers that they will come to you with a query and then become upset if you offer to look it up on the compute instead of in a book.

10. Some poeple have never, ever used a telephone. Especially older women. Their husband did it for them.

11. The DWP fuck over everyone but especially the most vulnerable and I haven't met a single library worker who hasn't helped struggling library users with food or phone calls or even a cup of tea when it's cold and they can't afford heating.

12. The Job Centre regularly lie to people and like to tell them that they can get services at libraries that simply do not exist. We will try our very best to help you get what you should have been given at the Job Centre.

13. Most banks assume that everyone has an email now. In fact, some people have trouble proving they exist at all without one.

14. Library folk are good folk. We do this because we are passionate about it. We have to be.

15. Libraries aren't quiet anymore. They're community hubs now. They may have quiet study areas but most libraries are bustling with activity. Between kids' classes, singing and memory groups for those with Dementia, crafts sessions and noisy office equipment, don't expect silence.

16. Libraries remain the only place where you can spend hours in a publically-accessible building without being expected to spend money. Parents come to entertain their children for free on wet days. People in poverty come for a warm place to sit. Libraries are a haven.

17. Some people will go their entire lives only reading 2-3 authors but still have enough material to read a book every month. (See also: Danielle Steel, James Patterson, Clive Cussler, etc.)

18. A library lives and dies by the staff on the counter. You can have the best funding, all of the books and tech in the world but you'll only get footfall if your staff go above and beyond. Sometimes even that doesnt work, though and it's frustrating.

19. We're funded based on footfall. I've seen staff cry because we lost a youth group to a private hall that has fancier facilities like a cafe. We need all the footfall we can get.

20. Staff are hitting their head against walls volunteering to create events, classes and groups only to have them shot down because local councils don't understand social media or want to charge for it. I can't overemphasise just how much unpaid work staff do.

21. Most of the facilities are only working because staff pay out of pocket to get things working. My manager bought a new laminator when we couldn't afford one. She buys in colouring materials for kids. We sometimes bring in our own stationary. We even buy lightbulbs in.

22. Authors don't like to visit little libraries because they don't get paid. Bookstores often pay.

23. The "sexy librarian" trop has actually done a LOT of harm and has caused countless incidences of sexual assalt by men who can't tell the difference between porn and reality.

24. Old ladies keep libraries in business. Old ladies who read are the best. Old ladies who can tell you exactly which page features the most gruesome murder scene are the very best.

25. Library staff ALWAYS want to know what you thought of the book. We want to know what to recommend to others!

26. I'm not supposed to have favourite library users but I do: I love library couples, who bicker over each others' reading tastes or share books and then argue about the themes. I also love the autistic kids with special interests. I will crawl over hot coals to get you a book about the specific type of train you are interested in, tiny child. I will listen to you tell me about it in great detail. I will try to remember for the next time you come in.

27. The single best moment, for me, is when a library user graduates from Young Adult to Adult and suddenly the entire library is open tothem! They can read anything! No more tiny teen section! All of the classics! Sci fi! Horror! They often get overwhelmed.

28. And finally, because I've spammed you long enough and because my typos are mounting up, remember this: Library staff can overcome many challenges but Book Gods help you if you deprive us of caffeine. You don't want to see what happens then.

END ID}

[favefandomimagines]

I Know Places 3 (r.c)

Summary: how will Rafe and Y/N’s first date actually go?

AN: part 3 of the Rafe Cameron series!!! I hope you all like it

Previous part

Taglist: @luvrclub

Y/N couldn’t shake the guilt that had been clawing at her chest since the night by the bonfire.

Every time she was with the Pogues, every time she laughed at one of JJ’s ridiculous jokes or shared knowing glances with Kie, a small voice in the back of her head reminded her of the secret she was keeping.

She had always been the honest one. The level-headed one. The one who talked JJ down when he was ready to throw hands and reminded him that not every battle was worth fighting. The one who always said, we don’t lie to each other.

And now here she was, lying straight to their faces.

JJ would kill her if he knew she was talking to Rafe Cameron, let alone going on a date with him. It didn’t matter that Rafe seemed different, that he had listened to her in a way few people ever had. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t once made her feel like she was some charity case or a reckless thrill to be chased.

All that would matter to her friends was that she had broken the unspoken rule: you don’t mix with Kooks.

Especially not Rafe.

The day of their date, Y/N tried to push it all to the back of her mind, throwing herself into work at the bait shop.

Summer meant long days and an influx of Tourons, which meant keeping everything stocked, handling customers, and making sure JJ didn’t get caught for scamming people out of extra cash.

But the second they closed, she felt it creeping back in.

She told JJ and the others she had errands to run—nothing unusual, just a vague excuse to get out of the house for a while. She could tell JJ wasn’t paying much attention, too busy laughing with Pope about some plan to rig the annual fishing tournament.

Kie, however, had looked at her.

Not in an accusing way, not like she knew, but in the way only a best friend can. The kind of look that said, something’s off with you, and I know it.

And Y/N had smiled, pretending like nothing was wrong.

The guilt was suffocating.

Even as she got ready for the date, she could feel it sinking in, making her stomach twist. She wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. It was just a date. Just dinner.

Right?

She stood in front of her mirror, smoothing down the hem of her sundress, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her chest.

This wasn’t her. She wasn’t the girl who snuck around, who kept secrets.

But she also wasn’t the girl who had ever been looked at the way Rafe had looked at her on the dock.

And maybe—just for one night—she wanted to see where that led.

||

Rafe sat in his truck outside Tannyhill, his fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel.

His head still ached from the hit he’d taken during the break-in, but that wasn’t what was keeping him up at night.

He knew who had done it.

The second he had come to and seen Y/N kneeling over him, everything had clicked into place. This wasn’t a random robbery.

It was about money.

More specifically, his money—the money he owed.

When his father died, Rafe had inherited everything: the business, the estate, the weight of a name that carried both power and expectations. But he wasn’t his father. He didn’t run Cameron Development like Ward had. He made reckless investments, chased bigger deals, and, in the process, lost more money than he could afford.

Instead of owning up to it, instead of paying back the people he owed, Rafe had done what he always did—distracted himself.

He poured everything into trying to make more.

Triple. Quadruple.

If he just made enough, the debt wouldn’t matter anymore.

But some people don’t wait to be paid back.

Some people take what they think they’re owed.

Rafe clenched his jaw, staring out at the vast expanse of the property. He should be hunting them down. He should be making it clear that they messed with the wrong person.

But then he thought of Y/N.

Of the way she had looked at him—not with judgment, not with pity, but with genuine concern.

Y/N was good.

She was pure in a way he had never been. She wasn’t untouched by hardship—he knew that much—but she hadn’t been corrupted by it. She still had something he had lost a long time ago.

And the last thing he should be doing was pulling her into his mess.

He shouldn’t have asked her out.

He shouldn’t have let himself want this.

But Rafe had never been good at self-control.

So he was going to pick her up, take her somewhere where no one could see them, and—for one night—pretend like none of the other shit mattered.

Even if he didn’t deserve it.

Even if, deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before everything caught up with him

||

The night air was crisp as the ferry cut through the water, the soft hum of the engine filling the quiet space between them. Y/N stood near the railing, the cool breeze playing with the hem of her sundress and lifting strands of her hair. The salty air clung to her skin, grounding her in the moment, in the reality that she was actually here, on a date with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe leaned against the railing beside her, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his jeans, the other resting casually against the metal bar. He had this effortless confidence about him, but there was something different about it tonight—less showy, less like he was trying to prove something.

It was just him.

“I can’t believe you actually showed up,” Rafe said after a beat, amusement lacing his voice.

Y/N smirked, glancing at him. “I figured if you were planning on murdering me, you’d pick a less public place.”

Rafe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Damn. There goes my plan.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was an ease between them that she hadn’t expected.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the gentle slosh of water against the ferry’s hull. The lights of the mainland shimmered in the distance, the glow stretching across the horizon.

Rafe glanced at her, his eyes tracing the way she absentmindedly ran her fingers along the railing. “So,” he started, tilting his head slightly, “what’s your excuse gonna be?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Excuse for what?”

“For why you disappeared for the night,” Rafe said, smirking. “You tell JJ and the Pogues you had to rescue an injured seagull? Maybe return some overdue library books?”

Y/N snorted. “Very funny, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled. “I try.”

She sighed, tilting her head back to look at the stars. “I told them I had errands to run. Didn’t get any questions, but…” she trailed off, her fingers tightening slightly around the railing.

“But what?” Rafe asked, watching her.

Y/N hesitated before exhaling. “But I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like they know something’s up.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “Sarah was suspicious when she saw me at the bait shop the other day.”

Y/N groaned. “Great. So, she’s probably putting it together as we speak.”

“Doubtful,” Rafe mused. “Sarah doesn’t think you’d ever go for someone like me.”

Y/N smirked, side-eyeing him. “And why’s that?”

Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make her stomach flip. “Because I’m the villain in your story, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t ignore the way her heart skipped at his proximity.

“I mean, you were a massive asshole,” she pointed out.

Rafe laughed. “Ouch.”

“Just stating facts,” she teased.

Rafe let out a slow breath, his amusement fading slightly. “Yeah, well… I deserved that.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the sudden honesty in his tone. She expected him to be cocky, to deflect like he always did, but instead, he looked… regretful.

“I wasn’t exactly a saint,” Rafe admitted, his gaze fixed on the water. “Especially to JJ.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She had seen the worst of Rafe Cameron—the arrogance, the entitlement, the fights with JJ. But tonight, there was something different in his posture, in the way he carried himself.

Like he was tired of being that guy.

“So, what changed?” Y/N asked.

Rafe exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Life.”

Y/N studied him, her curiosity growing. “Care to elaborate?”

Rafe hesitated before speaking. “For a long time, I thought all the Kook-Pogue shit mattered. I thought it meant something, like it made me better than you guys. But now? I don’t know. It’s just a stupid line people draw to make themselves feel like they belong somewhere.”

Y/N stared at him, genuinely caught off guard.

She had never once expected Rafe Cameron to admit something like that.

“Wow,” she said after a beat. “Didn’t know I was going on a date with a philosopher tonight.”

Rafe smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“I’m just saying,” Y/N teased, nudging his arm. “If you keep talking like this, I might start thinking you have actual depth.”

Rafe shot her a sideways glance, his smirk returning. “Gotta keep you on your toes, Pretty Girl.”

Her stomach did a little flip at the nickname, and she hated how much she liked the way it sounded coming from him.

She turned back to the water, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck.

“So,” Rafe said after a moment, breaking the silence, “tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Anything,” Rafe shrugged. “Something real.”

She bit her lip, considering for a moment.

Finally, she sighed. “I have this dream of leaving the Outer Banks one day.”

Rafe looked at her, intrigued. “Really?”

Y/N nodded, her voice softer now. “Not forever. Just… long enough to see something else. Something bigger than this place.”

Rafe’s lips quirked up slightly. “Yeah?”

She glanced at him. “You ever feel that way?”

Rafe exhaled, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “Yeah,” he admitted. “All the time.”

There was something in his voice, something deeper, something unspoken.

For the first time since the date started, Y/N realized that maybe—just maybe—Rafe Cameron understood her better than she thought.

The ferry horn sounded in the distance, signaling their arrival. The moment between them lingered, unspoken but there.

Rafe turned to her, his smirk softer now. “Come on, Pretty Girl. Let’s go see if I can impress you with my restaurant choice.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she smiled, following him toward the dock.

And as they stepped off the ferry, she couldn’t help but think that maybe—just for tonight—she didn’t mind keeping this secret

||

The restaurant Rafe had chosen was a quiet little seafood place tucked away on the mainland, far from the watchful eyes of the Outer Banks. It was the kind of place where no one would recognize them, and for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she wasn’t walking on eggshells.

A candle flickered between them as they sat in a cozy corner booth, the air filled with the scent of salt and lemon butter. Rafe looked relaxed, leaning back in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the booth as he watched her.

“So, Y/N Maybank,” he said, smirking as he speared a piece of grilled shrimp. “You never told me what you actually want to do with your life.”

Y/N took a sip of her drink, swirling the straw between her fingers. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged. “I mean, I know you run the bait shop with JJ and the Pogues, and I know you love them. But what do you want? Like, if you could do anything, what would it be?”

Y/N hesitated. No one ever really asked her that—not in a way that made her feel like her answer mattered.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “For a long time, I thought I’d just… stay. Run the bait shop, keep JJ out of trouble, live my life here. But lately…” She trailed off, chewing on her lip.

“Lately what?” Rafe prompted, leaning forward.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe I want more,” Y/N said. “Not that I don’t love my life—I do. I love my brother, I love the Outer Banks. But sometimes I feel like… I don’t know, like there’s a whole world out there, and I’m just stuck in the same place.”

Rafe nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Do you?”

His lips curled into a small smirk. “Yeah, I know what it’s like to feel trapped.”

Y/N tilted her head, curious. “I thought you had everything. Money, the house, the business.”

Rafe exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, turns out none of that means shit when you don’t know who you are.”

She studied him for a moment, trying to piece together this new version of Rafe Cameron—the one who wasn’t just the Kook prince, but something more complicated.

She wasn’t sure why, but that realization made her want to tell him more.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at her—like he actually cared about what she had to say. Maybe it was the fact that for once, she felt like someone was listening. Or maybe it was just the wine making her bold.

Either way, before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.

“My dad used to hit us,” she said suddenly, staring down at the table. “JJ and me.”

Rafe stilled, his entire body going rigid.

Y/N swallowed, gripping her glass a little tighter. “I mean, it was mostly JJ. He was the one who always fought back. But I got it too, sometimes. When he was drunk enough. Or mad enough.”

The air between them shifted, the playful energy from earlier dissolving into something heavier.

Rafe knew of Luke Maybank. When he used to buy cocaine from Barry, he’d see Luke around the house, most of the time high out of his mind. There were rumors that Luke hit his kids, but Shoupe couldn’t prove it. Topper and Kelce used to make fun of JJ for it, they’d even make fun of Y/N.

But he never thought that those rumors were actually true.

“I remember this one time,” she continued, her voice holding a sense of nonchalance. “JJ and I were like, thirteen, and I don’t even remember what set our dad off. But I remember him getting in JJ’s face, screaming at him. And I remember JJ just standing there, fists clenched, trying so hard not to react because he knew it would only make it worse.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to meet Rafe’s gaze. His blue eyes were dark, unreadable.

“And then he turned on me,” she spoke. “I guess he figured I was an easier target. But JJ—he lost it. He jumped in, tried to get between us. And our dad—” She sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. “He hit him so hard that he split his lip open.”

Rafe’s grip on his fork tightened, his knuckles turning white.

“After that, JJ started fighting back more. But I think he hated it more when it was me. That’s why he’s so protective. He doesn’t ever want me to feel like I did back then.”

All Rafe could think about was what kind of monster hits their kids? Especially when one of them was as perfect as Y/N. It made him wish that he could go after Luke, make him wish he never laid a hand on Y/N.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, laughing weakly. “I don’t know why I just told you all of that. I’m sorry.”

Rafe shook his head immediately. “Don’t be.” His voice was rough, edged with something she couldn’t quite place. Anger? Guilt?

She gave him a small, uncertain smile. “I don’t usually talk about it.”

Rafe exhaled, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. Neither of you.”

Y/N shrugged. “It’s in the past.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still matter,” Rafe said firmly.

She blinked, a little caught off guard by the conviction in his voice.

There was a long pause before Rafe spoke again, quieter this time. “I’ve known JJ for a long time. We never got along. But if I had known…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching.

Y/N reached across the table, hesitating for only a second before placing her hand on his. “It wasn’t your responsibility. It wasn’t anyone’s.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered down to where their hands touched before looking back up at her. His fingers curled slightly, not quite holding hers but not pulling away either.

After a beat, he exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “I was already out of my depth with you before, but now? I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

Y/N smirked, squeezing his hand once before pulling away. “Nope.”

The rest of the night felt… different after that. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made everything feel a little more real.

Rafe continued asking her questions, learning about her favorite books, her dumbest childhood memories, the things she wanted but never let herself say out loud. He told her about the pressure of taking over his dad’s business, about how suffocating it felt trying to live up to something that never felt like it belonged to him.

By the time they finished dinner, the tension from earlier had melted into something easier.

On the ferry ride back, Rafe leaned against the railing, his fingers idly playing with the hem of her sleeve. “So, was this better or worse than you expected?”

Y/N hummed, pretending to think. “I mean, I figured you’d either stand me up or take me to some overpriced Kook restaurant and make me pay the bill.”

Rafe scoffed. “Wow. Way to have faith in me.”

She grinned. “You exceeded my expectations, Cameron.”

He smirked, bumping his shoulder against hers. “High praise from a Pogue.”

By the time they reached the docks, Rafe walked her to her car, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Guess this is where you tell me you had a great time and drive off into the night,” Rafe mused.

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “I did have a great time.”

“So… second date?”

She crossed her arms. “You’re eager.”

Rafe grinned. “Can you blame me?”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you better make it good.”

“Oh, I will,” Rafe promised, eyes twinkling.

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile as she climbed into her car. As she drove home, her heart was still light, the warmth of the night lingering.

But then she saw it.

The truck.

Parked across the street.

All the windows were rolled up, too dark to see who was inside.

Her stomach twisted.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then, almost as if whoever was inside had realized she had seen them, the truck’s engine roared to life, and it peeled off down the road.

Y/N sat frozen in her car, watching the taillights disappear into the darkness.

And suddenly, the warmth from her night with Rafe was gone.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Earth Shaker

People call them "Contracts" but few, if any, ever read the fine print.

Maybe it's because of all the media from my first life; the horror stories and tales of deals gone wrong. Yet it seems like I alone, remain cautious. Careful. It feels like I alone, even understand the concept of "a deal with the devil". Though granted... not by that exact wording.

There are no devils here. IS no Christian Heaven or Hell. (As far as I can tell.)

But... but oh, there is so much more. And all of it is dangerous.

There are demons, yes, but they are creature made of malicious Energies. So too, exsist spirits. Minor and major Gods. It is a full and complete fantasy set up. They whole package. A wonderland of world building. And? A horror story to live in.

Those self same demons? Eat people. Attack travelers. Trains. And those Spirits? Fight for dominance in some sort of ever shifting court intrigue, using mortals as power sources and pawns. Are just as, if not more, destructive then the demons!

But, oh. What of the Gods?

What OF them? Do you think they care?

Beneath the glamorous adventures and magical veneer of the Story, this world was a rotten thing. Barely holding together. Yet... yet it was all I had, now. And that terrified me. Because I could not protect... anyone. Could I? Not.. not a single soul.

In the Story, the Protagonist (bless his empty little head) went to a magical academy. Met friends and foes. There was a love story and eventually? He saved the day. Huzzah. Good for him. But... here was the problem. The one which haunted me so.

That Love story? The "girl" he fell in love with? A nice, if proper, young lady from a house far above his station. But, oh! It was a turn of the century magical fantasy! He became famous! Wealthy! Saved her life with his incredible power! Of course her family approved in the end.

I did not want to BE his love story.

He was... a nice young man. Really! But... but it was like talking to, well, a high school student. Which he effectively was. And I? Had already been in college. Damn near graduating! (Not that I was bitter. No. Of course not. Perish the thought!) Only to then? Reincarnate and go on to live over a decade more.

I was at least twice his age.

The day I'd look at him as a romantic prospect? Is the day I'd gouge my own eyes out. That is a CHILD. My whole class is full of children. It's... exhausting. Ha! "Mature one", indeed. "Class mom", indeed! If only they knew.

But now? Now‽ The school wanted us to make Contracts! For a fucking GRADE! It was horrifying. Ill conceived and frankly? A GREAT way to push kids to over reach themselves. Try and Contract with a more powerful Being then they could handle. Get burned up or used.

"Mandatory". Ha! Mandatory my ass. I should refuse. If I was sane, I was refuse. But the problem was?

The school was fronting the Contact materials and safety arrays.

It was the safest chance I'd ever get. Fuck. Damn it.

So I read. I read and I read. Research til my eyes cross. Practice writing until my hands cramp. Splurge on the highest grade calligraphy instruments and inks I can afford. And with my allowance? And years of saving up? I'm literally buying alongside royals.

But it's the CONTRACT that takes the most time. I have to research law. Act under the assumption that I will be faced with some sort of malicious genie. It... gods, it can only end poorly. I know this. Yet? Here I stand.

Doing it anyway.

(I am a fool... aren't I?)

Unlike my fellow students, I don't do a vague Call All. While yes, the odds are higher for a response (due to it being basically an APB), you will have no control over what responds. Better to call for something specific and fail, in my mind. Then at least? You can plan ahead.

Besides, with the sheer quality of the materials I'm using? Someone will answer. They won't be able to resist. It's like leaving a box of diamonds on the sidewalk.

It takes all day, slowly, carefully writing out the hundreds of thousands of sigils and qualifiers. The "if X then Y, except when Z unless AB" of it all. I magically drain myself twice. Have to eat trail mix on the floor then nap in the corner. I rented the hall for the week, but... once begun? Only an IDIOT would open the safety arrays to leave.

Great way for foreign influences to completely fuck up your spell work. Either try to harvest the building Energies or, more likely, sabotage the Contract for a friend or ally, so they get more then they should. Fuckers.

After nearly two days? It's done. Still, I wait. Even as the air nearly burns with power. The scent of Green so over powering it's like someone dumped a cologne aisle on the floor. Wood and moss and old growth. Deep dark, pitch black earth. Petrichor. All humming, Humming, HUMMING like a bow string pulled back as far as it can. Straining, shaking, desperately ready to release the tension and STRIKE.

But I am no fool.

I wait for my energy to refill. Wait for a nap and some food to clear my mind. For all my papers to be nicely in order. I have called upon you, not the other way around. You can wait. (Because, frankly? I haven't even called you yet!)

Contract ready, I step into place. And each step, as it lands, is like the falling of trees and the baying of hounds. Thunderous in the sudden silence. Crashing as they fall. It is not me, whoever does this, the heraldry is both dramatic and not something I've ever even practiced. The scent of Green is thick enough now to choke. I'm genuinely surprised that the scent alone has not inspired plant growth.

My meticulous work surges to life, like it was a beast, only barely holding itself a bay. Like it can no longer. Roots and vines, made of then thousand shades of green-Gold-GREEN light shoot forward and up. Restrictive and choking. I am consumed in seconds.

I have to remind myself not to panic. To keep my feet still. As long as I don't move? I am safe. It is all for show. Like a cat, arching it's back. They can't truely hurt me. Bruise? Yes. But true, actual injury? No. It would hurt THEM too.

"Well, now, what have we here?" Mused a voice beyond comprehension.

It was eons of growth, beneath aliens skies. The cries of animals long lost and longer dead. Things that weren't and have never been, but could have. Growth, growth, GROWTH. Hunting and savagery and Death. Trees so tall the eclipse the heavens. Roots so deep they consume the world. Each leaf a tapestry. Decay. Growth from the rotting.

My... my ears were bleeding.

The vines-roots writhed in agony and pleasure under the weight of those few words. And... and that wasn't right. S-something was wrong. Very, very wrong. A spirit wasn't supposed to be that... that powerful.

I could FEEL the Safety arrays all but screaming under the weight they were trying to hold. Like toothpicks trying to hold up a mountain range. W-what? What was happening? I picked an earth spirit! Statistically, the calmest and mildest out of all available options! So... so why...‽

"Not going to bargain, kid? Plead for power and wealth?" The next sentence was no less agony then the first. Like being slammed by a wall of power. "Or are you here to make demands? Hmmm? I'm curious, honestly, to see where this one goes. It's been a while, after all."

The world had a pink tint. I... I tasted iron. Ha ha... oh god. Shit. I fucked up. I knew I should never have agreed to this stupid fucking-!

Wet dribbled down my face. A wheezing gurgle rattled my lungs. My heart was racing... but... but I could get enough air. I tried to suck in more. But the wet gurgle only got louder, as pink tinted foam worked it's way up my throat. Filled my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Something wet trickled from my ears. I Couldn't Breathe!

"Ah. I forgot about that. Fragile little creatures, aren't you?"

Unhurried steps casually strolled closer. Iron flavored foam clogged my air ways, as muscles spasmed, and creeping tendrils of darkness began to work their way closer, around the edges of my dying eyes. The world was muffled yet I could hear him perfectly. My sense were burning out, yet he imprinted himself beyond that. What had I summoned? Oh god... what had I done? W-what had I-‽

A calloused, treebark colored hand (the shade ever shifting, just ever so slightly) passed through the vines. Rather, the vines parted for it. Sun warm. Glowing as though containing that sunlight itself. Big. It... it was a strong, gardeners hand. A hunter's. Yet at the same time... unmistakable for anyone but that of a powerful man's.

Casual in it's impropriety. Sliding through my hair to grip the top of my head like it was simply his due. His skin... buzzed against me. Was almost too hot. Like standing near a live wire. And...? Then...

Then everything was gone.

My lungs free and clear. My eyes sharper then they'd ever been. Hearing so crisp, the silence of the room around us was nearly vertigo inducing. It was like my body had been reset to factory settings. Upgraded. I shuddered, eyes clenching shut. Because even with the pain gone? The horror was still there. The memory of the taste still lingered in my mouth.

"There we go, good girl. All fixed." There was a condescending lilt to his voice. His hand didn't move. Just tightened lightly and dragged, forcing me to tilt my head up, if I didn't want my hair pulled. Making me look him in the eyes. They were shifting, lazily, between hawk and wolf gold even as I watched. "Now, you were trying to be clever, yes? Had your little plan and every thing. Come on, let's hear it. I'm curious to see where this scheme goes. You always think your so creative, after all. So bold and new."

I wanted to send him back.

Now.

Fuck this. Fuck, grades. To hell with "mandatory". I'd drop out if I had too. Gods damn it, I'd go be puppy boy Protagonist's Love Interest if I had too! This was insane. I... I fucked up so bad. Earth spirits don't glow. Light spirits glow! For obvious reasons. But you know who does‽ Who FUCKING DOES‽‽ Gods.

"Ah, ah~." He chided, all but curling over me as he loomed.

There was laughter threatening to escape his control, hidden in his voice. Mocking amusement in the deliberate non-smile that kept him from baring his teeth in a grin.

"Don't go running now. Not when you've already invited me in." Phrasing. Horrifying phrasing! "You wouldn't want to be rude would you? There are Rules, after all. And you know better. Don't you, little thing?"

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Cry a bit. Fuck. God DAMN IT. FUCK! He's right. Of course he is! He mocking me with it! Shit. Oh god. Fuck, damn it! O-okay... I... I can... I just-!

Fear? Truely is the mind killer. For long moments, I could not move. Could barely bring myself to breathe. My mind, a horrible static. But... like slowly forcing yourself to unclench a white knuckled grip. One finger at a time. I... I made myself focus. Tried to bring my arm up. Miraculously, the vines let me. I held the Contract I had written out.

"Oh? And what's this then? Deman-?"

I could feel the pages leave my hand. Hear the rustle as they were flipped. The ringing silence, as he registered what it was he held. But my eyes were closed. I... I didn't want to see the end coming. Maybe I was a coward for that. But damn it, gods damn it, I was scared!

Ļ̵͎̬̙̲̈̽a̶̡̻͕̐̿̆͜ȕ̵̡̠͕̹̌̎̊̔g̷̡̟̞͓̬̿h̴̦̻̼͌́̚t̶͍̑e̴̹̓̚͠r̶̹̳̺̀̿͊̓

Crashing of horns against horns, the bray of dying beasts. Cracking growing and the fall of mighty trees. Mycelium surging through deep dark soil. Ripping flesh. Hunting cries. Green and grow. GREEN AND DEATH. Green Green Green Green Green Gree-!

"Audacious little pet! Aren't you? Oh, you do think your clever!" Amusement sang like venom and traps yet to be sprung. Dying, dying, DYING-! "Oh dear. Again? My poor thing. Hold still. This 'spiritual partner' will make it all better, hmm?"

The hand was back. Cradling my lolling face. W-when had I? G..Gone limp? I can't feel my legs. Can't feel... can't feel.... c-cant f...feel...

GREEN.

I gasp in air, like a drowning man final breaking the surface. My face is sticky. Blood? Tears? Gore? I am terrified to know. Don't have the strength to lift my own head. My magic is being all but ripped out of me. Faster and faster. Like it's being drained into a bottomless pit.

Something beyond sunlight, beyond growth, is reaching back. The very Concept of nature made manifest. What did I summon? What creature? What GOD?! Did I SUMMON?! Please. Forgive me. I.. I didn't mean too! I swear! Please! P-please!

"You know? It's been far too long, since I've had an excuse. I needed a good vacation. And to think," A second hand comes up to cradle my face, with a terribly deceptive gentleness. Tilting my head this way and that, as though to inspect me. "It comes with a free pet. Oh you're going to be so very amusing, I can already tell."

"But don't worry, pet." He nearly crooned. Clearly warming up to his own idea. "I take care of my things."

"And I can just tell. I am going to adore you."