#shitty graphics n stuff

[bluemantics]

guys help i just got in a small fight with voltronofficial’s instagram and threatened to write a post s8 miniseries that actually showcased character development

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else. 

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost. 

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment. 

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire. 

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear. 

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters. 

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell. 

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse. 

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent. 

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight. 

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula." 

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these. 

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity. 

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent. 

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands. 

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed." 

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs. 

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him. 

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you. 

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?" 

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit." 

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane. 

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid." 

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess." 

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now. 

"Got a name?" he asks. 

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?” 

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling. 

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?" 

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat. 

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am." 

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both. 

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed." 

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost. 

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?" 

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising. 

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to." 

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?" 

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase. 

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it. 

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step. 

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees. 

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you. 

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation? 

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!" 

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room. 

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him. 

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned." 

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost. 

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while." 

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word. 

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?" 

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check." 

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.” 

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?" 

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?" 

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone." 

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock. 

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki. 

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..." 

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him. 

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you. 

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.” 

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting. 

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't." 

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?" 

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day." 

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen. 

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this." 

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it. 

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can." 

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months. 

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up. 

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit. 

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words. 

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.” 

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together. 

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.” 

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.” 

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away. 

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”  

You nod. 

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.” 

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric. 

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet. 

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks. 

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them. 

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant. 

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing. 

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge. 

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring. 

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark. 

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back. 

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit. 

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway. 

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment. 

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now. 

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner. 

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner. 

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?” 

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.” 

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.” 

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group. 

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows. 

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.” 

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.” 

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina. 

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.” 

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning. 

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues. 

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.” 

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.” 

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.” 

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy. 

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.” 

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri. 

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever. 

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.” 

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.” 

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree. 

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from. 

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink. 

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly. 

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?” 

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask. 

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?” 

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.” 

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.” 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude. 

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?” 

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond. 

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.” 

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting. 

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.” 

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.” 

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in. 

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us. 

— 

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation. 

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop. 

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it. 

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough. 

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago. 

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize. 

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.” 

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.” 

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.” 

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?” 

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.” 

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman. 

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.” 

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays. 

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?” 

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto. 

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?” 

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding. 

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.” 

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg. 

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit. 

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.” 

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find. 

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts. 

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod. 

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look. 

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.” 

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen. 

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop. 

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.” 

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you. 

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.” 

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes. 

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary. 

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant. 

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.” 

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.” 

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat. 

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.” 

Mina laughs a little. 

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.” 

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile. 

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers. 

“Can you blame me?” 

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked. 

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.” 

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you. 

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop. 

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder. 

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down. 

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl. 

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it. 

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula. 

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper. 

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.” 

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely. 

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering. 

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners. 

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at. 

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now. 

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly. 

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask. 

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from. 

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back. 

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it. 

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it. 

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from. 

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it. 

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him. 

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up. 

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones. 

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind. 

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks. 

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.” 

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion. 

“Got everything?” 

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it. 

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers. 

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread. 

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well. 

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out. 

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe. 

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way. 

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk. 

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation. 

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?” 

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again. 

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something. 

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?” 

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm. 

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world. 

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.” 

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way. 

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.” 

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb. 

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days. 

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any. 

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it. 

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be. 

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source. 

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet. 

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.” 

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice. 

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.” 

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.” 

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group. 

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”  

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.” 

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?” 

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.” 

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?” 

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?” 

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.” 

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?” 

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.” 

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds. 

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control. 

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it. 

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect? 

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open. 

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house. 

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place. 

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal. 

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling. 

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck. 

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?” 

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him. 

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably. 

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?” 

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.” 

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work. 

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly. 

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch. 

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively. 

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.” 

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.” 

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others. 

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.” 

You tilt your head. 

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is. 

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.” 

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little. 

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-” 

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.” 

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side. 

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun. 

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable. 

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that. 

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character. 

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow. 

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task. 

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket. 

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.” 

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out. 

“You’re doing laundry.” 

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.” 

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.” 

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit. 

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.” 

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive. 

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick. 

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering. 

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence. 

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace. 

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.” 

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid. 

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little. 

“Were you?” 

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.” 

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway. 

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh. 

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?” 

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?” 

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.” 

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.” 

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little. 

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant. 

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?” 

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused. 

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little. 

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry. 

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.” 

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food. 

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him. 

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into. 

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you. 

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both. 

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position. 

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet. 

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.” 

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope. 

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.” 

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes. 

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier. 

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house. 

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel. 

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better. 

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator. 

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?” 

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in. 

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[softspiderling]

think you're a genius (you drive me up the wall) | r.c.

summary: it wouldn't be an outer banks party if there wasn't at least one fist fight. also, rafe is trying to turn over a new leaf.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 3,8k

warning: mention of blood, violence (reader gets punched in the face, but there are no graphic details), shitty topper (sorry top)

author's note: long awaited (at least by me) rafe fic, whoop whoop!!! no usage of Y/N, happy reading, don't forget to reblog!!! also tagging @sunderlust bc i borrowed some of our conversation in this fic😘love you sol

☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

“Since when do you drink beer?”

Barely pausing at the words, you continued to stack cold beer cans in your arms, the condensation dripping onto your skin. You didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to, having heard it so many times. And this was his house after all.

“Wasn’t aware you kept track of my drink of choice,” you retorted, turning around to face him, while simultaneously trying to balance the cans.

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you before his gaze lowered to the beer in your arms. “… You trying to tell me that all that beer’s for you?”

“You calling me a lightweight?”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth ticked up and he took a sip from his drink, the ice clinking in the glass.

“I think we both know I’m not.”

If someone had told you that one day you’d be standing in the parlor of Tannyhill, having a mostly civil conversation with Rafe you’d have them institutionalized. But things have changed. When Sarah returned with the news that Ward has died protecting Sarah, Rafe imploded at first. Blaming her for his death, the downfall of their family and generally being ungrateful for Ward’s love for her.

Everyone avoided the Cameron estate for a while, hearing stuff crash and yells from a mile away. No one dared to step close. A few days after, the disturbances stopped, being replaced with complete silence.

It was so silent, you actually grew concerned until Rafe turned up at Heyward’s setting up a weekly grocery delivery. Pope had dumped the stuff he was holding as soon as Rafe had stepped into the store, storming outside, with Cleo hot on his heels, leaving you to set up the standing order.

“Can you tell Sarah I’m sorry?”

“What?”

You looked up from the register and Rafe clenched his jaw, giving you a look.

“You really gon’ make me say it again?”

“How about you call her yourself instead of making me deliver your message like a post boy?”

Rafe exhaled deeply, knitting his eyebrows together like he was really trying not to explode and honestly, you had to respect him for that. You know how impatient he could be.

“I tried, okay? Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve tried to call her, she’s not picking up. Fuck, I don’t even know if she still has the same phone number,” he said, like the words physically pained him. “I don’t even know where she’s staying. Is it at John B’s new place?”

Somewhere between his words, Rafe had started pacing up and down the stairs, making you antsy.

“Hey,” you said, coming around to slowly, carefully - like you were trying to pet a stray cat - curl your hand around his wrist. Rafe immediately stopped, eyeing his wrist where you were touching him.

“Sorry, I’ll take my hand off,” you quickly said, but before you could, Rafe stopped you.

“’s fine,” he muttered, meeting your eyes for a second before looking away again. “Physical touch grounds me… Y’know… When my thoughts get too… Much.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding at him and staying in place, for god knew how long, until Rafe had seemed to calm down.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

You drew your hand back, crossing your arms over your chest and leaned against the counter to put some distance between you and him, wildly overwhelmed with this situation. Rafe didn’t seem like he knew what to do either, turning his ring on his finger, his eyes cast on the floor.

“If you really want to apologize to Sarah,” you started, making him look up. “Maybe I can talk to her. Ask her if she’s willing to meet up with you.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, clearly surprised. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head. I’m mostly doing it for Sarah,” you scoffed and Rafe only smirked, shaking his head.

“Sure, tough girl. Gonna ring me up now or what?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you returned to the cash register, finishing up his order. You still felt his eyes on you as you worked away.

“Thanks,” he finally said, and you lifted your head, briefly meeting his eyes.

“Don’t mention it.”

And he never did.

Miraculously, you had managed to get Sarah to agree to talk to Rafe and while you had accompanied her to the beach, where she had met up with Rafe, you stayed behind to give them privacy. You weren’t sure what they had talked about, but you didn’t press her about it either when she came stomping back to you with tearstained cheeks. Whatever they have talked about must have helped though, because even though Sarah still stayed with John B of the the times, she went home every odd night, returning with sandwiches and drinks the next day like a soccer mom. It went unsaid that Rafe had provided her with everything and Sarah avoided talking about him, mostly because Pope still got that distant look in his eyes whenever she mentioned her brother. Which is why you were surprised that he was the first one to agree to go to a party Rafe had invited Sarah to, forwarding the invite to her friends.

“What?” Pope had said everyone gave him an odd look. “He stole a family heirloom of mine. The least he can do is invite us to a party of his.”

“Okay then,” JJ jeered, beating on Pope’s back with his opens palms. “Let’s go to a Kook party.”

You had to admit that it was nice to see that the two tribes of the island coming together. The fact that Pogues were invited to a party on Figure 8 was huge. Granted, it was just you and your friends, but still. It was a start.

Loud cheering from outside brought you out of your thoughts, you and Rafe both looking towards the dimly lit backyard, where the main attraction of the party took place.

“JJ and John B are destroying a group of Kooks at Rage Cage right now,” you then explained, lifting the beer in your arms. “Hence... You know.”

“Right right, I was starting the wonder what all that yelling was about,” Rafe mused.

“So how come you’re not out there?”

Rafe shrugged. “Needed some quiet.”

“What, you having your private party in here?” you teased and Rafe smirked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Why? You jealous?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the beer cans in your arms, the weight slowly getting to you.

“In your dreams, Rafe,” you scoffed. “I got to go, get these beers to the boys before they’ll get warm. You should come down, when you’re done brooding and shit.”

Throwing your last words over your shoulder, you returned to your friends, being welcomed with loud cheers as the empty cups get filled rather quickly. You dropped down into your empty chair, taking your drink from Kiara who had been holding onto it during your absence.

“Pope was about to send a search party because you were taking so long,” she said and you gave Pope a look over the brim of your cup.

“You’re such a mother hen. I was talking to Rafe.”

“Why the hell were you talking to Rafe?”

“You talked to Rafe?”

“Jesus, guys relax,” you groaned, leaning your head back. “He’s fine. He didn’t even do anything. We just talked.”

“It’s never just anything with Rafe,” Pope muttered.

“I get that,” Sarah started, rolling her empty cup in her hand. “But he’s different.Like… He regrets a lot of the thing’s he’s done and trying really hard to make up for his mistakes,” she paused, pressing her lips together tightly. “I’d be the last person to defend him, but I feel like he’s trying to turn over a new leaf.”

Before Pope was able to list all of the bad things that Rafe has done in the past, your conversation was interrupted, angry yells ringing over the music.

“So now you’re just all buddy buddy hanging out here, huh?”

The new voice wasn’t really new and everyone looked at Sarah, who paled, slowly pushing herself up from her chair, looking towards the disturbance, the rest of the group following her.

“Shit. What the hell is Topper doing here?”

The sudden intrusion of a rather inebriated Topper had immediately tanked the relaxed and laid back atmosphere; suddenly, everyone was tense, not daring to make a move in fear of making the wrong one.

“What? Aren’t we here to party?” Topper cajoled, waving a half empty bottle of whiskey around. “Let’s get rid of these Pogues and party!”

The rest of the Kooks looked between themselves, not really wanting to follow Topper’s request but also not wanting to defend your friends. Even if they just had fun together, the Kooks wouldn't go as far as openly defend Pogues, you knew that.

“You should leave, Topper,” John B said, his hands curling at his sides, which was fair, honestly. Even though you had rebuilt the Chateau, bigger, better and most importantly more fire resistant, Topper burnt down John B’s home. His safe space. Topper only widened his eyes at John B comically, snorting.

“Who are you to tell me to leave?”

Sarah pushed herself to the front, pressing herself to John B’s side, which was probably not the smartest thing she could have done, as it only aggravated Topper even more to see her next to John B. You and the others stood right behind her, ready to step in as soon as it escalated.

“Leave, Topper,” Sarah snapped at him. “Nobody invited you.”

“Yeah, as far as I know, you don’t even live here anymore, Sarah,” Topper said, spitting out her name like it was venom in his mouth.

“I didn’t invite you.”

You hadn’t even noticed Rafe having joined you, not really standing on your side, but not on Topper's side either. Suddenly, the tension had grown even thicker and by now, you realized this could go wrong in about a 100 ways.

Topper stared at his friend, mouth agape, before he collected himself, pulling a face.

“Seriously, Rafe? Weren’t you the one who told me that I’m better off without your bitch of a sister and now you’re taking her side?”

“Watch it, Top,” Rafe only said, not even moving an inch.

Not that he had to. Everyone knew what Rafe was capable of, if he was angry enough. Topper only narrowed his eyes at his friend, weighing his options.

“Topper, just go,” Sarah yelled, walking towards him for good measure, trying to offer some sort of olive branch, but Topper only pushed Sarah roughly, causing her to stumble to the ground.

“Jesus, fuck, Topper,” you snapped, rushing to get Sarah back on her feet again, making the fatal mistake of getting between him and John B, as you received a sickening punch to the side of your face.

“Fuck!”

“Holy shit, Topper are you insane?”

You had toppled over your feet to the grass, not having expected the punch at all. Disoriented, you touched your throbbing cheek, your fingers stained red when you looked at them.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling like you were about to pass out. Your friends quickly crowded around you, helping you up.

“Shit, girl, you alright?” Cleo asked, carefully pushing your hair to the side to assess the damage.

“Is Sarah okay?” you only asked, pausing to spit out some blood, leaning on Cleo, your legs still shaking.

“Dude, I’m fine!” Sarah said, wrapping an arm around you, still shaking herself.

Your vision was still dizzy, and the voices were not helping, but it seemed like most of the party goers had dissipated as the argument had started. As your eyes adjusted, you could just see Rafe holding Topper by the collar of his shirt and saying something you couldn’t quite understand, before he tossed his friend on the ground. Topper didn’t take long to get back to his feet, fleeing from the scene.

Rafe turned around, his eyes scanning over you before turning to Sarah.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bruise,” Sarah said, her eyes fixated on you. “But you should definitely get checked out. I can't believe Topper punched you."

“Come on, I got a first aid kit upstairs and some ice for the swelling.”

Rafe reached out to grab you under the arms, but Cleo was reluctant to let you go.

“Maybe I should help.”

“Seriously?” Rafe asked, incredulously and you only watched with narrowed eyes, your reaction time still limited.

“We should just take her home,” Pope chimed in, grabbing you by the shoulder gently, jostling you around.

“Guys, I’m gonna be sick if you keep handing me around like a joint,” you groaned, shutting your eyes, in the hopes of making the dizziness better.

“Pope, it’s fine. Rafe’s not going to hurt her. And he knows a thing or two about patching up wounds,” Sarah said, Pope’s grip on you loosening.

“Fine. But you even look at our girl funny, and you got another thing coming, you hear me, Rafe?”

“Yeah yeah, I got it,” Rafe grunted.

You peeked an eye open, when your friends let go of you, Rafe looping his arm around your shoulder, pausing to look at John B. “You got Sarah, right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about her.”

Rafe nodded his head in thanks, before leading you towards the house.

"Hey, just call if you need anything!" Kiara called after you, which you only replied with a weak "Okay!", your focus on putting one foot after the other. Rafe had his arm around your waist, taking most of your weight.

“Can you walk alright or do you need me to carry you?”

“If you pick me up right now, I will vomit on you,” you moaned and Rafe snorted.

“Right, and neither of us want that.”

It took you guys an embarrassing amount of time until you reached the house, since you kept making Rafe stop because you thought you were going to throw up. When you finally walked inside, Rafe lead you upstairs, instead of steering you towards the living room.

“Where are you taking me?”

“First aid kit is in my bathroom,” Rafe replied, mostly supporting your weight as you climbed the stairs.

“Ugh, your bathroom? Am I gonna get infected with herpes or something?”

“Is it the smartest idea to insult me in your position right now?” he asked dryly, and you almost sighed in relief when you reached the second floor.

“Just take me to your bedroom Rafe.”

“Alright, Princess,” Rafe sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he guided you to his bedroom, carefully depositing you on the bed. While he went to the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit, you took a second to catch your breath, hoping the world would stop spinning.

Rafe returned with the first aid kit, moving slowly so as not to startle you. He set it down on the bed and then looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you mumbled, pressing a hand to your throbbing cheek. "Just a little dizzy."

"Right." Rafe opened the kit and began to rifle through it, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton pads. “This is probably gonna sting,” he warned you.

“Do your worst.”

You managed to flinch only slightly as the cool, yet burning liquid hit your skin, with Rafe’s surprising gentle touch as he cleaned your wound. He put a small bandage on the cut, before sitting back to inspect his handiwork.

“I’ll go grab you some ice for the swelling,” Rafe then said, standing up. “No dozing off, though, a’ight?”

Without waiting for an answer, Rafe left the room, leaving you by yourself yet again. Even though he explicitly told you not to doze off, you laid down on the bed, figuring that it might make the pain a little less bad. As soon as your head hit the pillow, Rafe’s scent engulfed you, and you weren’t sure if you lying down in his bed was too... Intimate? Then again, he was the one who had left you in his bedroom by himself. Before you could sit up again, Rafe reappeared in the room, holding a bag of in his hand, an unreadable expression on his face as he took you in on his bed.

“Sure, go ahead and make yourself at home,” he huffed, but you could see the frown on his face. Rafe sat down on the bed next to you, carefully wrapping the ice bag in a small towel and pressing it against your bruise, his other hand cradling your face. Despite the ice on your skin, you felt your cheeks heating up.

It was odd. You’d never have expected that Rafe could be able to be so gentle, so caring, and you suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“What’d you say to Topper?” you blurted out instead, breaking the silence. You reached up to hold the ice bag, and Rafe pulled his hands back, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What?”

“After he hit me. What did you tell him to make you leave?”

Rafe sighed, leaning back a bit, staring at the wall as his eyes hardened. “I reminded him of what he did to me when I… Hurt Sarah. Asked him if he was willing to beat me to a pulp for my sister, what he thought I’d do to him for hurting her.”

His eyes flickered back to you.

And you.

You let out a breath at the pregnant pause, scared he’d say something he couldn’t take back. Something real. Maye you had been flirting with him, but so what? There was no harm, they were just words. Right? But admitting something real? That was a whole other story.

“Who would’ve thought Rafe Cameron could be so nice?” You said instead, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Rafe snorted, shaking his head with a laugh, the moment dissipating. “Yeah yeah, don’t get used to it. It was a one time thing.”

“Right, right, we wouldn’t want people to think that Rafe the Kook prince actually has a heart.”

“Does that make you the Pogue Princess then?”

“What?” you asked, flushing. “Where’d you get that idea? That’s obviously Kie.”

“Come on,” Rafe huffed, rolling his eyes. “Kie’s half Kook. And don't even start with my sister. Sarah’s… Half and half, at least.”

You eyed him in amusement. It was clear that he’d spent a good amount of time on that analogy.

“What about Cleo?” you asked, humoring him.

“Ehh. She would’ve made a good Pogue princess, too bad you’ve already taken the spot,” Rafe said with a shrug. “Pogue Princess. Flirts with everyone, heart of gold, never hesitates to get right between a brawl to help out a friend and to call people out on their bullshit…. Should I continue?”

“Please don’t,” you laughed, pressing the ice bag to your cheek. “You’re talking shit out of your ass right now.”

“I’m talking shit out of my ass? You’re the one saying everything that comes to your mind to stop yourself from kissing me right now.”

What?

“What?”

You never thought he’d actually say it out loud. Mention the elephant in the room. The tension you had been trying to ignore all this time. The silence that followed was deafening as you tried to find the right words, your heart beating in your chest.

“In your dreams,” you muttered hotly, repeating your words from earlier in the evening, looking everywhere but at him. It didn’t take long for Rafe to grab you by the chin gently, forcing you to look at him, his eyes piercing yours.

“In my dreams, yes,” he said quietly, inching so close that his warm breath was fanning across your face. “What about yours, princess?”

Gaping at him, speechless, you knew you didn’t have long until Rafe would take your silence as rejection. Your mind was racing, but ultimately, you leaned in, closing the gap and finally kissed him. Rafe let out a soft grunt, dropping his hand from your chin and cupping the back of your head instead to press even closer to you. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, as you finally admitted the attraction you felt to another, but you pulled away, when you felt a tad too dizzy.

“Right, shit,” Rafe cursed, knitting his brows together, examining your cheek. “Got too carried away.”

You flushed, handing him the small ice bag, that was more or less a bag of water now. Rafe dumped it in the trash next to the nightstand, before turning back to you with a smirk.

“Took you long enough.”

“Shut up,” you huffed and Rafe only grinned, pushing your hair out of your face, where it stuck to your wet cheek. You leaned in for another kiss, only for Rafe to stop you, holding you back.

“Nuh-uh. You get better first. Next time, I want you to get dizzy because of my mouth and not because you just got punched in the face.”

“You sound real confident there will be a next time,” you pointed out.

Rafe sighed, faux-exasperation. “Princess, don’t act dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You really think I’ll let you go after you’ve professed your love for me?”

“After I did what?” you shrieked in laughter, and Rafe only laughed. It was nice seeing him laugh for real for once, not the smarmy, smirk he used to do. After your laughter subsided, your pursed your lips, serious.

“You know my friends won’t take this well, right? Especially Pope.”

Rafe ran his hand over his buzzed hair, exhaling softly. “I know. But I won you over, didn’t I? Rest will be a piece of cake.”

“I’m serious, Rafe.”

You gave him a look and he leaned down, clasping his hands in his. “So am I. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have been trying to make things up to him, to Sarah. To everyone. It might take a while… And I don’t blame him.”

“As long as you’re aware…. Now, can we get back to kissing?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?”

Pushing your lower lip forward, you pouted at him. “One kiss.”

Rafe stared at you for a hot second, frowning. “Fine. One.”

But when he leaned down to give you a chaste kiss true to his words, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill yourself?" Rafe hissed, but you only cackled, almost taking your bandage off in the process.

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author's note: pls leave a comment/reblog/like if you liked it🥹

[teddiesworldd]

your neighbour, simon, the stalker.

you don’t know it but it’s for your own good, love. (350 words)

a/n: simon is your scary dog privileges. it's short and a bit darker than my usual stuff but i hope you like it!!

pairing: simon riley x female reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, pervy creepy neighbour!simon riley, obsessive, stalking, some mentions of violence

simon didn’t think he was a creep. 

at least not in the usual sense.

he didn’t want to stalk you or put a tracker on your car or watch you undress through the window late at night. no no, he just wanted to make sure you were safe. that makes all those things okay, right? it was for your own good. he thought of himself as your own personal guard dog. 

i mean, it was obvious you couldn’t protect yourself. if you could, he wouldn’t of needed to beat that guy in an alley for following you home that one time. sure, he was following you home as well, but he had good intentions. and when you saw him in the hallway between your apartments the next day, asking how he got the bruises on his knuckles, it made his cock ache for you. 

and when you brought a bloke home the other night from the bar and simon watched you strip off your shirt, and then your bra, and then your underwear through the gap in your curtains from the street below, it was just to make sure the guy was taking care of his girl for him. he needed to know you were being fucked properly.

he loved getting the notification on his phone that you had pulled up to work safely, when that little tag he stuck under your fender let him know you had made it okay. he wouldn’t want you getting in an accident without your big strong neighbour there to save you. 

his favourite thing of all though, was when you touched yourself in your room, thinking no one could hear you. but really, your lewd moans went straight through your joined wall and into his ears, pumping his thick cock to your noises. one time, you even moaned his name, and it sent him over the edge immediately, causing thick ropes of cum to land all over his hand and stomach.

it was for the best, really. 

he knew he could treat you better than any of those shitty guys you brought home.

˚✧. thank you for reading!

˚✧. please reblog to support me <3

˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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[aggieharkness]

Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 4

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: Avis has had a really shitty day at work, and to top it all off she finds you at the gas station with Ernie, which pisses her even further. Obviously, the only logical thing to do is to pick you up so you can take her to Dreamland. Whether you are on contract or not, superfluous to the situation.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, praise kink, degrading kink, pet names, tit play, proper dom/sub situation, spanking, bondage, overstimulation, near fainting experience. Consent is sexy people!!!

Authors note: At last, I have finished this chapter. It has taken me a bit longer because I was two seconds away from overworking myself into a mental breakdown, but here we are. I had to do proper research for the topic that I've written, but I understand that this whole thing might not be everyone's cup of tea, still I hope you like it. As always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas that you might have or things that you might want to see Avis and reader do. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3

Word count: 17K (I've tried but I can't write short stuff for the life of me)

Love requires some spice

-These accounts look really good Ernie. You’ve recovered quite well since the spike in prices during the war, almost as if it never happened.

-What can I say kiddo, I got reliable customers.

Ernie’s office was tidy, only a few cigarette butts on an astray and a few oil stains on the carpet that he had tried to get professional cleaned but wouldn’t budge, the door left wide open so he could check on his business, both of them. It was a regular thing for you to come by his gas station and check on the accounts for him, making sure everything was up to date, that none of his boys was stealing from him, which had happened a few times before, wrapping up the numbers of the previous year so he could start clean once again. He was a nice, good friend that had lent you a helping hand when you had first arrived, lost and unsure what you were supposed to do with your life. You had become his secretary for a few weeks before you had moved to working alongside his boys, though not for long, there wasn’t much market for ladies that take care of other ladies. Still coming by years after that, was no effort, you liked being away form the studio now that everything was so hectic, the smell of oil and rubber a great change from stuffy perfumes and overpriced colognes. There was only one thing currently missing from your life that upset you enough to actually spend such a beautiful day inside this office. You had not seen Avis in over a week, and it was getting a bit under your skin, probably hers as well if the quick longing glares she threw your way when you happened to cross each other’s paths, only for a few seconds, were any indication.

-You can say that again. I’ll just do the math, fill up my book and be on my merry way.

-Whatever you need to do Y/N, you know I love having you around to give me an interesting topic of conversation. None of the “I’ve come here to become an actress, to fulfil a dream” talk that I hear all the time from my boys. No, you come and talk about the stock market and other stuff that makes me wonder where you read about all that.

-The hairdresser I go to has some interesting magazines.

He chuckled at your comment, standing from his chair and heading to rest his back against the doorframe, observing the cars that came and went, popping a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting in. As much as he loved what he did you knew he missed the opportunity of becoming something more, something great on a screen, to have his name up in lights on marquees and posters. He wasn’t a bad actor, he just didn’t have the same chances others around him had had, which in your most humble opinion was a shame. He was a good actor, he had to be as a gigolo, made sure he kept his clientele happy and with a good chance of returning, but it wasn’t exactly what he had dreamt about since he was a kid. But you could not deny that his current line of business was doing great, your eyes drifting to the wiggly lines that were written before you, even if Avis had not come to visit him since she had got with you, her last boy, Jack, forgotten in a corner of her mind along with the rest of them. She had no need for them anymore, you filled up all her emotional needs and sexual cravings without issue. Ernie tapped the butt of his cigarette, ash falling on the floor, before turning his head towards you again, that charming smile gracing his lips.

-Now, how’s the studio, everything going well?

-As expected, I mean the atmosphere is rather strange among the higher ups but everything else remains the same. Well, not everything. Avis is busting her ass off all the time, and I hardly get see her at all. I think the last time was like a week ago and we only had a short lunch date because she had a meeting, and she had to rush off.

-She was never good with pressure; she tends to let it crush her and by the time she realises, she’s already under the rubble. I saw it happen when she first had her kid, she was so run down that I thought she would drop dead right in front of me. You trying to help her?

-Of course, but Miss Kincaid is keeping me busy, and I haven’t had the chance to go up to Avis’s office yet. I was thinking of doing something on the weekend now that the weather is getting nicer. Maybe a picnic or take her down to the beach, what do you think?

-A date with you in public? No offense kid, but she’ll kill you. – the sound of a car arriving had him tear his eyes from you to take a look, puffing some smoke out of his nostrils. He signalled to a blond man that was sitting by the door to attend to the lady, waving his hand at the woman that was in the car, though from your position you could not see how it was. Ernie quickly returned to the conversation. -I’m pretty sure she loves to be with you, but photographers lurk in every corner and now that she’s in control of the studio, even more. She’s a good woman but she’s also a very important woman.

-I suppose you are right. Things were easier when Mr. Amberg was still around.

-I never thought I’d see the day when someone actually said that they missed Ace Amberg.

-I don’t miss him; I miss how easy he made it for me to be and sleep with his wife. – the snort that he gave startled you at first, but upon repeating the words in your head you realised just how it must have sounded, after all it was pretty odd the situation you and Avis had and what role her husband played in all of it. A small chuckle escaped from your lips after a moment, your hand on your forehead rubbing the skin. - Okay, that sounded really weird. All I want is to be able to make her relax, let her hair down even if its only for a minute. This job is going to kill her if she doesn’t stop a little.

-That’s Avis alright, she speeds down the freeway and doesn’t brake until the very last minute, if she brakes.

-How about a date at her place? We could have a picnic in her own garden. No photographers, no worries and she’s in a comfortable environment that will make her feel relaxed.

-Now, that’s an idea. -he stubbed the cigarette with his foot before walking out into the workshop, you following suit to keep the conversation going. The warmth of the sun was a welcome change from the cold that had settled in the first few weeks of January, now pushed to only a few hours during the night before the sun came out and made the entirety of Hollywood forget their coats and pick up jackets. It kissed your skin gently over your white cardigan and flowy baby blue dress. Ernie kept talking, moving from adjusting a few screws on the carburettor of an old Mercedes to starting an oil change on a newer Lincoln continental. - I swear if I had a branch in this business just for dates, you would crack it kid. My number one star, wooing ladies like its Valentines Day.

-Don’t give me any ideas or I might do the numbers and see how much it could earn us.

-If it’s a lot, go for it. – he laughed loudly, his voice muffled slightly by the metal hood above his head. He started speaking again a few instants later, your hand resting on the side of the car as you took the sun in, but your gaze moved towards his legs, the only thing you could see of him, as his tone was now a bit different, more serious, as if he actually wanted to get an honest answer to his question. -How is Avis handling everything?

-She was socked about it all at first, devastated when she thought she might become a widow; she wasn’t sure she could handle being the wife of the late Mr. Amberg, although he’s not dead, yet anyway. She was upset that her daughter didn’t seem affected, but now they are both doing rather well. Avis moved from the panic of having to plan a funeral onto the panic of running the studio pretty fast, but you know, her and Ace…

-Yeah. It was way worse in the beginning, when she still thought he might love her back. It was horrible to see her coming to me crying, heartbroken. Now they could kill each other if they were not civilised. He hurt her pretty badly and she won’t ever forgive him. It was a shitty ride for her, no wonder she’s moved on so fast from his heart attack.

-She still goes to see him when she can, Miss Kincaid told me, but she doesn’t stay too long. She practically goes to see if he’s still alive and then goes home. She probably talks to him a little, but not much more than that. I mean he can’t talk back to her; she’s probably telling him all the shit that she’s always wanted to scream at him, letting all the anger out. Even though she hates him, she stills cares enough to not want him to die.

-She’s always going to care. She loved him, that’s not something easy to forget, at least for some people. But you don’t have anything to worry about, she’s not going to push away and hop back into the arms of her husband the minute he wakes up. You are doing her a lot of good and my business a lot of damage.

-Sorry not sorry, but you know I’m good and that I keep my ladies satisfied, at least this one in particular for the foreseeable future, if not forever. You are going to have to find yourself another Avis that pays well and comes frequently.

-Does she have any friends that are exactly like her?

-Oh, no, Ernie. She’s one of a kind.

The sound of a motor made you turn, that well known black Cadillac pulling into the station and parking on pump one. You felt your heart leap in your chest, a stupid smile plastered on your lips. Avis was right there, behind the wheel, her sunglasses on, leopard print hat pinned on the side of her hair, her hands, covered by her bright magenta gloves, resting over the wheel. You noticed how her stand was rigid; it was quite obvious to eyes like yours that were attentive to her every little detail, from the way her lips were curled into a thin line to how hard she was holding onto the steering wheel, her knuckles probably white under her gloves. You kicked Ernie with your foot, signalling for him to get out from under the car, his eyes landing straight on Avis as soon as he pushed himself off the floor, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he made his way to his best client, that charming smile faltering a bit when he greeted her and she only bit back with an order to fill up the tank. Oh, she was mad, like really pissed, someone must have upset her greatly at the office today, you thought. Ernie was still trying to talk with her, make conversation you gathered by the way his mouth was moving, and like a resort Avis suddenly whipped her head to meet you, pushing her glasses down to reveal a pair of beautiful big brown eyes wide open, surprised and slightly shocked at seeing you there. You could not tell if she was upset that you were there, but she moved her hand over the car door and motioned for you to approach her. You obeyed without complain, your flats making no sound against the grey floors and road as you walked to meet her, Ernie continuing to fill the tank as if he had not just ratted you out to your girlfriend. It’s not that you didn’t want to see her, but you kind of didn’t want her to find you here, of all places, after all you had not told her about your first job in Hollywood yet.

-What the hell are you doing here? – okay, she was mad at you now as well, brilliant. You gave her one of your charming smiles, innocent and proper, her submissive little girl but it didn’t seem to do you any good, she still looked at you with fury in her eyes as she removed her sunglasses all together. Did she think you were actually working here?

-I’m simply helping Mr. West with the accounts, ma’am.

-Do you think me stupid? – her eyes were narrow as she bent over the car door, her face a foot from yours, her perfume mingling with yours perfectly as you breathed it in, a shiver running down your spine when she lifted her hand and grabbed the collar of your dress yanking you hard until only a few inches separated her from you. She was delighted to see you, that Avis could not deny, but she was beyond livid at finding you here looking completely relaxed, at home. You were not one to engage with gigolos but you clearly knew Ernie well enough that he would allow you to be around like this, which meant you had to be providing a service, or a favour, her eyes looking at you with a mix of anger and lust, the fabric of her glove touching the flesh of your collarbone drawing goosebumps. If only her hands were touching you without the magenta barrier, you thought. – How many women have you fucked while you are supposed to be with me Y/N?

-None, ma’am. I’m not on contract here. I’m simply helping with accounts I promise.

So, you weren’t working here, you were only doing maths, okay, she could live with that, not that the idea of picking you up from here so you could indeed provide her with a certain type of service didn’t excite her. You were such a proper girl all the time, the affair that you were having with her aside, of course, you never did anything that could be considered naughty, not that she knew of, at least, but Avis’s mind was already imagining you walking towards her in a tight uniform, charming her, showing off your assets so she would pick you over any of the other boys in that station. She got hot under her own collar, your sweet eyes doing things to her that should be illegal, her mind racing through all the scenarios that she could come up with, all the things she could to you, that she would do to you.

-I can vouch for her, Avis, she hasn’t…

-Quiet, Ernie. – she lifted a hand towards him while still holding you in front of her, the man picking up the husky tone that laced her command, closing his mouth and wrapping up his job at the pump before locking the fuel deposit. It was so easy for her anger to turn into lust and desire when you were involved, that delightful dress you were wearing showing off your cleavage perfectly for her eyes to feast on, your breaths rapid under her touch. She could picture you popping a button open so your ample breasts would claim her eyes, all her attention. – Are you such a slut that you need to come here? Have others fuck you until you can’t take it anymore? Until you are satiated?

-No ma’am, you are the only one who touches me and you keep me perfectly satisfied every time.

-Is that so? – her voice was so low, so full of lust and power that you could feel your body reacting profoundly to her words, her hand letting go of your dress as she rested her body back against her car seat and yet you did not move, you only bent forward a bit more seeking her touch, her closeness. She thrived in the way you were so eager to have her, that you were such a submissive little girl for her. She smirked, moving her glasses back over her nose but not over her eyes, still fully taking you in, your eyes locking with hers, her pupils dilated and full of desire. You didn’t think she was into role play, but it was clear that this entire thing was heading that way, and you were not against it at all. - Well, I’m far from satisfied right now.

-Are you ma’am? We can’t have that, can we?

-Are you on the clock girl? – she picked up her purse, pulling out her cigarette case, but your hand gently shot to grab it, pushing it to the side. No need to blow up the station. She picked up on what you meant by that simple movement and left it fall over the dark leather of her car, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill from her purse instead and placing it underneath the strap of your bra making sure to brush the top of your breast before sitting back, pointing her head towards Ernie who was back in the workshop overlooking the entire interaction. – I need more than just my car pumped.

-For you I’m always on the clock, ma’am.

-Good then. I wish for you to take me to Dreamland girl, I believe mama has some pent up tension that she needs to release.

It took you a second to run towards Ernie to hand him the twenty, returning to Avis’s car without slipping over any puddles of oil. Upon reaching the Cadillac you pushed your hair back and smoothed your dress, walking slowly around the hood of the vehicle making sure to sway your hips to give her a show and oh, did she feast on you. Her eyes followed your frame so closely, her lower lip in between her teeth, the temperature around you both spiking. You slipped beside her, your dress bunching up over your upper thighs, which you were going to correct after closing the door, but she stopped you, placing both your hands against the leather of the seat on each side of you, her face inches from yours. You saw the way she stared at your lips, but she didn’t kiss you, couldn’t kiss you here for everyone to see so she pulled back. Lever down, car in first gear and Avis practically flew away from the station, Ernie laughing and waving at you both as he watched the car vanish around the corner before returning to his office. You had left the accounting records on a chair right there, but it did not matter, you were going to be busy for a while, he hardly thought your priority would be the station’s numbers. The road Avis was driving on was not the usual way she took to get to her place, but upon glancing at a sign you saw that it was the way to the Beverly Hills Hotel. It was risky to go with her to such a public place but then again you knew she was a bit of an exhibitionist, maybe the idea of the press seeing her with you turned her on, it sure turned you wild with desire, but you did not move your hands, as much as you wanted to run them up her thighs while she drove. She felt your eyes racking over her body, the need for you building deep within her core blending with the anger she still felt from the horrid day she had had.

Ever since her husband had had his heart attack, fucking Lon Silver was just stuck to her back, like a shadow following her everywhere she went. He drove her insane with the way he talked as if she was dumb, as if he was the only one who could take care of the studio when Ace had left it to her, not him, but of course he was overstepping, like always, trying to get her to quit or for her to turn the job to somebody else he could get to do his bidding. No fucking way, not while there was still breath in her body. She wasn’t doing any of this because the studio was Ace’s life work, she didn’t give a shit whether he would like what she was doing or not once he woke up, if he woke up, she just wanted to either wipe that fucking smirk off of Lon’s face or wipe him of the face of the Earth all together. She could not quite decide which would bring her more satisfaction. She felt the anger rising again, steaming out of every single pore in her body as it became stiff on her seat, which you quickly picked up on.  Her eyes were glued to the road, speeding down the avenue without so much as glancing your way trying to tempt you, test you and see if you wanted her as much as she wanted you like she would have done under other circumstances. You knew you could ask her exactly what she desired you to do, if there was anything she wanted to release some of the tension, but you did not want her to get frustrated by your questions seeing as her mind had raced back to whatever had happened to her throughout the day pissing her off once more. With careful movements  your hand made contact with the fabric of her stocking, under her skirt and over her right thigh; her breath hitched in her lungs but she did not push you away, your fingers rubbing and kneading the flesh, moving it upwards very slowly savouring the hums that she was making, a gasp escaping her when you brushed them on her inner thigh, fingering the top lace of her stocking.

You were supposed to take her to Dreamland, no? Might as well start relaxing her from the very beginning. You scooped your body closer to hers, your thigh practically touching hers without stopping your movements that had now turned towards the in between of her legs, inching closer and closer to her centre but never touching her; you only wanted to relax her, there would be plenty of time for you to tease her and please her later. Your head moved to the crook of her neck, pecking the skin above her coat and outfit, a quiet moan slipping through her slightly ajar lips. You were pushing your luck with this behaviour since the top of the car was down, your actions out for the world to see, but Avis couldn’t care less, your tender kisses seeping under her skin, the tension slipping out of her shoulders and limbs. You were just what the doctor ordered, and it had been too long since you two had been together, she needed every bit of attention you were giving her, that she allowed you to give her. For now.  Even her foot lifted a little from the accelerator letting the car slow down as the hotel came into view a few yards away. You had to pull away, much to her dismay, when the people on the streets became too many for you to continue, Avis swerving and stopping the car by the front doors. While she stepped out of the vehicle to pull a suitcase from the trunk before throwing her keys to a young valet you slipped from the passenger’s seat as the perfect image of a proper lady, hands clasped in front of you, coming to meet Avis by the front doors, her head motioning for you to follow her.

The lobby was spectacular, the walls and floors dressed in white marble with a round area in the centre framed by four columns that fit the same theme, separating a round zone with armchairs from the rest of the room. There were glass tables spread all throughout with vases of fresh flowers that diffused sweet floral aromas all throughout the lounge, carpets that were probably worth more than your entire apartment covering the marble patterned floors, a beautiful glass chandelier topping of the majesty of the room. You had never been here before, you had heard of it and had seen it upon passing by, but you had never ever been in there, which made this whole experience with Avis a thousand times better. People greeted her as she made her way to the front desk, smiling politely and stepping aside as if she owned the place, who knew maybe she did, everything was possible were Avis was concerned, the man that was sitting behind the counter smiling and handing her a key without so much as an explanation. It was clear they knew her enough to not ask unnecessary questions, as if she had done this before, which you knew she had, it was no secret for you that Avis had frequented the gas station for more than gas, though now it was not necessary. You knew she had brought all those boys here but none of them shared with her what you did, none of them mattered to her one single bit. She did care for Ernie, they had been friends and sex partners for over a decade now, but he had made it very clear to you when you had told him that you and Avis were a thing that he had no interest in being with her romantically, that he was still waiting for the one that would make him retire and much to his dismay she was not the one.   

Being shown towards the elevators you could not help but feel that this time things were special. You did not feel cheap or upset that you both were role playing like this, she wasn’t treating you like someone who was going to offer her a service and call it a day, no she made sure to always keep an eye on you, to signal you to walk beside her, never a few steps behind like at the beginning of your relationship, to make you feel protected and cared for. She was not going to do anything that could make you feel bad simply because she wanted to, this was a partnership and if you didn’t feel comfortable, she wasn’t going to push her needs and wants onto you the same way that she expected you to not cross lines with her. But by the way your eyes were glinting under the light of the lamps on the wall as the sun began to go down, afternoon blending into evening, she was sure you were excited and filled with anticipation and desire, wondering where the night might take you. You noticed the way she kept you close to her, her hands brushing yours as you stepped into the elevator, Avis pushing the button for the second floor, but since she had sped away from the station, she hadn’t uttered a single word. It intrigued you why she would not engage you in some sort of playful banter, but she wasn’t mad, her body was relaxed, and her fingers toyed with your fingers and the fabric of your cardigan, throwing glances behind her sunglasses that you could feel in your bones. What was going through that pretty head of hers?

The bell of the elevator rang signalling it had arrived at the desired destination, its doors opening for the two of you to reveal a set of stairs draped in a beautiful green carpet that extended all along an empty foyer, not a soul in sight. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt her hand holding onto yours, her steps calm and steady as you both walked down the hallway, the carpet decorated with a diagonal pattern you noticed upon glancing down to the floor following the movement of Avis’s legs and hips, the walls painted with big banana leaves over a light pink background. She pulled you past door after door until you both reached the opposite side of the hallway, a big window letting the warm sunlight through a set of thin white curtains, its yellowish beams reflecting on a white door situated on the left side, hidden behind a corner. Of course they would give her a secluded room. She let go of you to push the key in and open the doors, pulling you in gently, a smirk on her lips. You could see her fangs through her ajar mouth, her hands pushing you against the now closed door after dropping the suitcase unceremoniously on the floor, her face inches from yours. You thought she was going to crash her lips against your mouth and kiss you until you lost your mind, but you were proved mistaken when instead she kissed your cheek and with slow agonizing pecks she travelled down your jawline, a gasp sliding out of your throat when you felt her tongue lick the underside of your jaw and the flesh of your upper neck. Your hands were pressed against the wood, itching to touch her but something in the back of your mind told you that she would not allow it.  

Just as unexpectedly as she had pressed you against the door she pulled away and began to walk towards the living area of the suite. You had not had time to look around, not that you could pay much attention to the light pink coloured walls and matching furniture set, as your eyes were glued to Avis as she removed the coat off her shoulders, draping it over the back of an armchair, unpinned her hat and removed her gloves, both items resting on a small white coffee table in between the easy chairs before turning to face you, her sunglasses coming off slowly so she could stare at you. Behind her the curtains flowed gently to the warm breeze that was coming through the open windows, making a rogue curl that must have fallen of her complicated hairdo, sway near the nape of her neck, the fiery tones complementing the palette of the room, with its gentle pink tones, perfectly.  Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath; was she… nervous? Her hands were holding onto the top of an armchair, knuckles turning white as the seconds passed. You could not understand why she would feel this way, it’s not as if this would be your first time together, perhaps you had misinterpreted her body language and she was in fact, excited, lusting after you, staking like a predator. Slowly you took a step towards her, her head held high with a raised eyebrow, a gentle smirk on her lips, so you took another and since she did not stop you, only waited, you closed up the space that separated you. Your hands rose in the air to take her face in between them, but Avis stopped you, her grip tender as she pulled you towards a different room where a cart with drinks and two couches rested over a light-coloured carpet, sitting you down. She turned away from you to prepare herself a martini, sitting herself opposite after a moment with the small glass in her hand. She took a sip before lifting her head to look at you, her legs crossed as you waited for her to speak with hands resting over the fabric of your skirt.

-Before we go any further, If I asked you to try something with me, would you? – her voice was clear, business like, forcing you to stare wondering why the sudden change in the atmosphere, waiting for her to finish taking another sip of the drink, curiosity filling your chest. Avis had been thinking about this for a while, since your first encounter when you had told her that you liked it rough in bed. At first, she had thought that it meant a few pulls of hair, but when it had slipped out of your mouth in the throes of passion the possibility of her tying you down, she had begun to do the research. She had asked people about it, had looked around shops and such; she had made up her mind about this.

-It depends. What do you have in mind?

-I want to test your boundaries, see how much pain you can take until the pleasure is no longer that, how much it would take for me to overstimulate you, among many other things. I want to dominate you. – she spoke while her eyes locked with yours, the power that was emanating from her intoxicating, making you shiver on the spot. She wanted to mix pleasure and pain? She wanted to do what you thought she wanted to do? It surprised you and yet it felt fitting for a woman like her with such a commanding presence altogether.

-Dominate me? What made you think of this?

-You said you liked it rough. I’m simply wondering, how much?  

-I don’t know, no one has truly bothered to do such a thing with me. – she took another sip from her martini before patting the seat next to her. You did not hesitate and slid right beside her, her hand toying with the hem of your dress as she spoke, delighted in the way your body responded to her gentle touches and brief caresses of your thigh.

-Then would you agree to let me do this? Share this experience together?

-What exactly would it mean for me?

-Many things. I want you to understand that this whole thing is for the both of us, not just me. If there is something that you don’t want to do or try, make sure to tell me, I won’t proceed at all unless we are both sure about it. – she bent forward, only a foot separating her face from yours, her hot breath tainted with the slight aroma of gin filling your lungs, your breaths rapid, heart beating hard against your ribs. What she was saying carried a lot of implications, a lot of things that you would love to try with her, it scared you but it also excited you, and it was clear that she had been through this idea in her head more than once and more than twice.- Though there must be rules set in place for this, honey.

-Like when we were at the dealership?

-Something similar. – her face was now inches from yours, her voice low and husky as she spoke, her hand now fully under your skirt. She knew you would be on board by the time this conversation was over, perhaps she might have had you from the very beginning, either way, just having her lips so close and yet so far drove you insane. – Rule number one. You are mine and only mine, you are not allowed to touch or sleep with someone who is not me the same way I’m not allowed to be with anyone who is not you. Understood?

-Yes ma’am.

-You are not allowed to touch me or yourself unless I grant you permission, the same way that if I tell you to be quiet, to look at me or to be loud, you will comply. You will only address me as ma’am or mother; if you say anything else, you will be punished. You don’t have the right to beg or plead with me or for me to let you do anything, I am in charge and will chose when you can do something. And if I have not stated that you can, then you must always think that you can’t. Your main goal is to please me so you can be granted permission, for what? That is for me to decide. I can do to you whatever I want, taking on account that your safety takes priority over everything else, so you can’t escape me or pull away from me or contradict me in any way, if you do, you will be severely punished. And lastly… you can’t cum until I say so.  Are these rules agreeable to you?

-Yes, ma’am.

-Good girl. -she pecked your cheek, your damn cheek! It was torture to have her literally telling you she was going to do things to you that might leave you like jelly on her bed and yet she denied you her mouth. She sat back, taking a sip from her martini, the hand that had been playing with you now resting on the back of the couch. Your eyes were full of lust, gazing up at hers with a beseeching tone but she did not move from her spot; she had not even begun, and you were already imploring silently for her to touch you. It was utterly delicious. - There is a system to make sure that if things get too much for you, you can tell me, and I will immediately stop. A set of safe words. If you can take more than what I’m giving you must say white, if you need a moment to gather yourself you must say orange and if I’m pushing you too much, if you fear I’m going to hurt you or you are already in pain, say black and I will stop completely. Being rough with you doesn’t entitle me to hurt beyond how much you want me to, understood?

-Yes ma’am. I have a question. You will pleasure me and hurt me and treat me exactly like I said I wanted you to, but what do you get out of this Avis?

-Control. Anything I command you to do you will have to comply with or you will be punished, and it is I and only I who choses exactly what happens to you. You are mine to do as I please with. Do you understand exactly what will transpire here if you agree?

-I do.

-And do you agree Y/N? – she waited for a few seconds, although they felt like hours to her. You knew perfectly well what she wanted to do and to be fair and honest you could not think of a person better than Avis to share it with. If anyone was going to fuck you beyond comprehension while she tied you to a pipe or something, who better than the woman who loved you and cared for you.

-I do.

And suddenly it was as if a switch had been flipped and she was grabbing the collar of your dress and pulling you hard against her, her mouth crashing against yours. It caught you by surprise, a yelp escaping your lips, but it ended up muffle by Avis’s mouth, her tongue tracing the outline of your lower lip so you would grant her access to your mouth, which you did. It was messy and so very intoxicating to have her battling and exploring your mouth so intensely, her free had on the back of your neck to keep you in place. Your lungs were screaming for air but you did not want it to end, the feeling of her teeth biting down on your lower lip before she pulled back altogether nearly making you whine at the loss, your eyes watching Avis downing the rest of her martini before standing from the couch. You sat there unsure of what to do, after all you were supposed to follow her cues and commands, but she had given none. She left the room only to come back a minute later with the suitcase she had left by the door, pushing the French door that separated this room from the bedroom and dumping it over the mattress. Slowly she turned to look at you, a hand resting on the door frame as she lifted her hand, her index finger signalling for you to approach her. On shaky legs you stood and made your way to her, your heart beating so fast you believed she could hear it, her right hand moving to trace the line of your jaw, her voice quiet, nearly a whisper in your ear.

-Undress me.

The outfit she was wearing hugged her curves in all the right places, but it was obviously a bit stuffy, work clothes that she desired to get rid of and you were there to please after all. Your hands went up to her neck, tracing the outline of the outfit until your hands were running down her front, fingers working slowly on each button, pushing the jacket open after a few moments. Her eyes watched your every move, laced with such ardour that she feared she might make you combust or perhaps it was she who might end up in flames. The blouse underneath was white satin, thin and so very distracting with the way it plunged down low revealing the top of a white and pink corselette, Avis’s breasts moving hurriedly with each breath she took. You could not get enough of her, the way her skin looked peppered with freckles, the way it felt under your palms, it was absolutely maddening. You pulled the blouse out of her skirt, undoing the rest of the buttons to fully reveal her undergarments from the waist up, your hands running down her sides to her hips, pressing her against you. She gasped at the action and was about to reprimand you about how she had not told you to do that until she felt you turning her around, her back now against your chest. The way your lips landed on the back of her neck as your hands trailed up to her shoulders, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, felt wonderful, the anger that she had felt sliding down her arms along with her jacket and blouse, leaving her flesh exposed for you to touch. Your fingers ghosted over the flesh of her upper arms, tracing lazy patterns as your kisses moved to the crook of her neck and onto her left shoulder, retracing your steps so her right side wouldn’t be neglected. She was humming in approval, moving her head to give you better access, feeling how your arms moved from her hands to her hips, fingering the waist of her skirt until you located the zip, pushing it down slowly until the garment fell on its own down her legs, pooling at her feet. She was only dressed in her undergarments now, your hands travelling to unclasp the first hook of her corselette, but Avis was quick to stop you, pushing her body off of yours to sit on the settee at the foot of the bed with her eyes racking over your body, resting an elbow on the mattress.

-You are quite overdressed dear. Take it off. All of it.

How could she turn you on so hard with just one command? It was insane. Your hands shook in anticipation as you lifted them to remove your jacket, letting it fall on the floor at her feet, before rising them once again to undo the buttons on the front of your dress, Avis’s eyes watching as you popped each open, revealing your peach coloured brassier and the creamy skin of your abdomen as your hands carried on downwards until the dress hung lose from your shoulders. She was eating you alive with her eyes, tracing her lips with her own tongue at the sweet sight of your matching lacy knickers and nude stockings clasped to a garter belt. You had invested in new lingerie Avis noticed quite pleased. Those modern garments sure suited a woman like you, the translucent fabric letting her see your rosy nipples trapped behind that beautiful garment that complimented your skin beautifully. It was no effort whatsoever to shimmy out of the dress, the flowy material pooling around your feet in a mass of blue, leaving you before Avis in your underwear.

You took one step towards her causing her to raise an eyebrow, and then another letting your dainty foot slip out of your flat, placing the tip of your toes on the edge of the settee, your left leg right beside her as you bent forward to unclasp your stocking, rolling it down your leg and dropping it at her feet, doing the same thing with your right leg, your garter belt the next garment to leave your body, on top of the growing pile of clothes that you were leaving at her feet. It was such a normal action to remove one’s stockings, but the way you had done it was simply lascivious, your breasts pressed against your thigh practically escaping from their confinement, your fingers sliding down your legs as if to tease her, to tempt her. Returning to the spot you had just left you gave her your back, hands unclasping your brassiere before stretching your arm and letting it fall, watching Avis over your shoulder. Her pupils were blown wide, her lower lip in between her teeth, the hand that was resting on the mattress gripping the covers while the other rubbed her own thigh. She was waiting for you to finish so she could pound on you, you could feel it in the way she was looking at you, your knickers absolutely drenched as you pushed them down your legs, kicking them aside. Every inch of your body was uncovered, free for her to see and touch at last. Slowly you turned to face her, a gasp escaping her parted lips at the sight of you, pushing herself into a sitting position, the lust that was filling her up making the embers of a fire start building into flames deep in her core. After a moment of raking her eyes over your body she locked them with yours. The game was on.

-My my, aren't I a lucky girl, with such a pretty little thing standing there so bare for me. But I think you would look even prettier kneeling at my feet, wouldn’t you say?

Positioning yourself on all fours you crawled, pushing the clothes that had been shed to the sides so they wouldn’t be in the way, your hands inches away from her heels when you stopped, lifting your head to look at her. She bent forward and grabbed your face forcefully, compelling you to sit on the heels of your feet to meet her face at the level she wanted, your hands clasped in your lap, nipples hard due to the breeze that was coming into the room from the big balcony, its curtains swaying, flowing like water. Your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, and something told you that by the way her eyes were absolutely blown wide she could smell it, and it was driving her mad with lust.

-You are being such a good girl for mama, but why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use.

She let go of your face, pushing you back slightly and lifted her leg, the sole of her shoe coming to rest on your thigh. She had said mouth, she hadn’t said anything about hands, so you lifted them and lulled your head to the side in a questioning manner. She smiled; you were so diligent with the rules, remembering that back in the dealership she had told you not to speak unless she granted you permission, her eyes observing you for a moment before she nodded, relaxing back against the mattress, propped up on her elbows to watch you. Every path your fingers trace over her skin sent a shiver down Avis’s spine, your mouth kissing the arch of her foot, like a craving for her that you just couldn’t fulfil as your hands gently removed her shoe. Even her stockings tasted expensive as your kisses trailed up her shin, fingers massaging the ball of her foot, around her ankle, through her calf, drawing quiet moans and hums that filled the room so easily. She was exquisite under your touch. Upon reaching her knee you lifted her leg over your shoulder to lick the perfect hollow where her calf and thigh met, sucking the silk in your mouth leaving a wet spot behind as you gave it a resting place over your shoulder to carry on with your journey up her thigh.

You were kneeling before her so readily, her eyes moving from your movements on her leg to the way your back arched as your lips went further upwards, the way your ample breasts and perky nipples swayed with each motion your body made. Avis could feel how she was responding to your ministrations, her corselette feeling a bit tight around her, the lacy fabric of her knickers positively drenched already in between her legs. You kept going, your lips leaving pecks around the lacy top of her stockings while your hands keened the flesh around the clip, and then with one swift motion it came undone in your hand, fingering the hem as you made your way to the back of her thigh to unclip the other. Painstakingly slow the garment was removed from her leg leaving her free for you to touch at last, no barriers preventing you from licking and tasting her sweet skin, your teeth scraping the soft flesh on her shin as you finally let the stocking fall on the floor. It was maddening the way your nails raked over her thigh, red angry marks painting her flesh, which with a smirk she realised she had not told you to do. There was sudden jolt of pain when her hand made contact with your head and pulled your hair tight so her face was inches from yours, your scalp burning deliciously as the pain became pleasure in a quick instant.

-Well, what a naughty girl, taking such liberties. – your head was lulled back as the grip on your hair became stronger, more painful and yet you did not speak, simply stared at her, a new gave of arousal pooling in between your legs. - If you step out of line just one more time, I will have to punish you, and you don’t want mama to get angry, do you?

Your head shook, a triumphant smile on Avis’s lips as she brushed her lips over yours before releasing you. The first mistake she could pass, but a second one she would not indulge, part of her hoping you would trip so she could indeed punish you while the other half wanted to see just how obedient you could be. Your attention was now on her other leg, hands shaking slightly but not in fear, it was a mix of lust and excitement sprinkled with a certain level of curiosity that you could not avoid, she was in control after all. Her shoe was hanging from the tip of her toes when you placed your hand on her calf to lift it, watching as the black pump fell to the floor on its own with a plop, her foot at the perfect angle with your face so your lips could kiss the arch. This time you made sure to give it a little bit more of attention, the pads of your fingers massaging and releasing the tension of being on her feet throughout the day, moving from her toes to her sole and the ball of her foot while peppering tender kisses around her ankle. You were making up for your slipup, it was quite obvious, but she was not going to complain when your hands were so eager to please her and keep her in a contented cloud, the small specks of anger and tension that had still clung to her skin, slipping into the ether. Once satisfied with the way she hummed as she let her body fall back onto the mattress, utterly relaxed, you began to move upwards, each kiss leaving a wet spot over the silk that you were so very tempted to rip with your teeth, but you were pretty sure she would count that as stepping out of line. Some other time, you thought.

Your lips were busy kissing around her knee, but your hands were trailing upwards until she felt you fingering around the lacy top of her stocking. You were being deliberately slow, toying and playing with the clip but never unclasping it, your lips teasing her thigh only to return around her knee once again, driving her into an impatience that she could only tolerate so much. When you felt her body shift and rest on her elbows, her eyes narrow as they locked with yours, you quickly picked up on the fact that you were pushing your luck and moved quickly to unclasp the front and back clips before pushing the garment off her leg. She smiled approvingly, but you were not quite done, you had neglected her thigh and that could not be. Finally, you began to move upwards, your pecks turning into gentle nibbles the closer you got to her inner thigh, biting down hard on your preferred spot, running your tongue over the red mark to soothe the sting. She gasped in surprise letting pleasure taint it as her head fell back to take in every single sensation you were giving her, but even though she enjoyed it immensely, and you knew she did, you had slipped, a naughty smirk painting her lips. She let you finish your work of kisses with one single peck on the joint of her hip and leg before her body lurched forward and her hand grasped your hair again. A hiss escaped your lips this time, another infraction she decided, pushing your body back until your back was practically arching under the force of her grip, Avis coming to stand and bend over your body, towering over you as your hands fell to the carpeted floor to stabilise yourself. Her breasts were only a few inches away from you, your mouth watering at the sight, but you were frozen in your spot, eyes moving frantically all over her body as her face got closer and closer to yours.

-And here I was, thinking you were going to be a good girl for mama only to disappoint me. You know what girls that step out of line get, don’t you? – God, why hadn’t you done this before, this whole dominating act could set you on fire with the way her voice spoke to you so huskily and with such an authoritative tone. You were her toy, her plaything, and you wanted to be her only girl forever and always. You found yourself nodding to her question, but she was not satisfied, she pulled you closer to her, giving your neck and back a break from their previous position, her breasts right at the perfect angle for you to feast on, but you could not steer your gaze clear from her face. – I need words darling, so answer the question.

-Punished.

-Indeed. You were doing so well, but I guess that sluts like you need to be reminded that your rightful place is at my feet. Crawl in between the balcony and the bed and stay. Understood?

-Yes, mother.

 She let you go, that delicious sting that had spread through your scalp vanishing. You sat there for a few instants before placing the palms of your hands over the carpet, moving slowly over shaky legs around the bed. Avis had not moved from her spot, how could she when you were so beautiful on all fours moving to the place she had specified, your ass propped up in the air letting her eyes roamed over your perfect checks, the glistening in between your thighs not going amiss as your hips swaying as you progressed with each step. Her own hands travelled down the sides of her body until they settled on her hips, savouring the moment. The carpet dug into your skin, but it did not matter, they would leave a mark that in no time would vanish, the principal question in your mind being what was Avis going to do with you while she had you in this spot. Reaching the spot you thought Avis would approve of, you stilled your movements, doubting whether to stay on all fours or to sit back, she had not specified how you should wait. A gentle breeze cooled your skin, making you turn your head to let it hit your face in hopes that your burning cheeks would not remain so. It was beautiful through the open doors, the sunlight turning slightly orange as evening progressed outside this room, the drawn curtains flowing with each gust of wind allowing you to see the outline of the city among all the greenery. If you let your mind wander you could imagine the sea just there on the horizon.

-Is the view outside better than the one inside this room? - You had not heard Avis’s steps approaching you, the sudden sound of her voice in your ear causing you to turn your head away from the window, eyes staring down at the carpet again. Your heart had skipped a beat, but you were unsure whether it was due to how sultry her voice was or if it was because she had scared the crap out of you. She made a disapproving sound with her mouth as she pushed herself back to her full height, something cold and leathery making contact with your upper back to keep you in place on all fours when she saw that you had lifted your hands off the carpte to sit back. – I asked you a question.

-No ma’am.

-And yet your attention was elsewhere. You disappoint me Y/N. I thought you would do well with rules, but you’ve proven to be unable to follow simple commands. I guess sluts like you deserve to be punished after all. What will I do… what… will… I… do.

The foreign object that had been resting on your upper back slid down following the outline of your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind until it reached your ass. You had an inkling of what she could have in her hand, but you could not bring yourself to turn your head to look at her, anticipation filling your chest as your heart raced against your ribs, pounding. The leathery object slid over your left cheek and then your right, but nothing else happened for a few instants, the excitement nearly too much for you. You heard ruffling beside you and from the corner of your eye you saw part of Avis’s frame sitting on the bed, over the covers. And then it hit you square in the ass. A thin sturdy shaft collided with both your cheeks as the leather tongue you had felt running over your skin hit you perfectly over the right side of your buttocks. A gasp escaped your lips at the contact, your body jerking forward in surprise and out of seer instinct to move away from what was inflicting pain but you quickly returned to your original position, the sting you had felt at first vanishing after a few seconds helped by the touch of Avis’s palm running over the mark you were sure the object had left behind, soothing it until the only sensation left was pleasure.

-Now, I think that ten whippings for the liberties you took should teach you to never step out of line again. Count out loud.

Her hand left your lower back, seconds passing by in silence. She had a riding crop in her hand, she was going to hit you with a fucking riding crop, a fantasy you had been having for weeks now. You had imagined her bending you over her knee and using her hand to discipline you but as your gasps turned into moans, she would bend you over the couch and hit you over and over with the riding crop until you had to stop fantasising, or you would cum on the spot. This was real, she had one in her hand, you had felt its sting on your skin and yet you could not bring yourself to believe that this was happening. The first spank quickly made you realise that it was indeed true, the leather tongue colliding with your left cheek harder than the one she had inflicted upon you mere minutes ago. This pain was delicious, absolutely dizzying and addictive and for an instant you nearly forgot to speak the number.

-One!

-Good girl.

The second one landed on your right cheek, a gasp escaping your mouth as you said “two”, voice wavering slightly. This pain was hardly anything that could make you scream, your body stoic in place even if the pleasure was building higher, the third and fourth spanks hitting you unceremoniously on both sides pretty quickly one after the other. You nearly missed saying three, but Avis didn’t seem to notice that slip up. She was beyond aroused, her breaths rapid with the riding crop tightly in her hand, eyes glued to the red marks she was leaving that she was so very tempted to bend and soothe with her tongue, but that would be the opposite of inflicting a punishment. She did notice that you seemed to be handling it all rather well, so when the fifth spank landed on your right cheek, she made sure to smack it harder, the gasp that you gave perfect indication that this might be just the ideal strength to use on you. The feeling of the leather hitting you harder sent a jolt of pain up your back, but the pleasure was grander, your voice filled with desire as you muttered “five”, so very deep and utterly maddening that you were sure by the time Avis was done you could cum simply with one word.

-Can you take the five that are left, darling?

The concern that laced her lusty voice warmed your heart and you quickly nodded, yearning for the pain that was to come. She delivered as soon you stilled your movements, the hit harder than the one before, the pain turning into pleasure so fast that you weren’t sure if you had felt anything but pleasure, “six” leaving your mouth in a breathless gasp, your hands gripping the carpet until your knuckled turned white, your toes twitching. The seventh one made your back arch, toes curling hard as you felt your arousal practically dripping down your legs, but even in this hazy could of desire tainted by pain you managed to speak the next number. You were doing so well, your pretty creamy skin painted scarlet, contrasting beautifully, and in a simple touch of affection towards you Avis ran her hand over the marks to sooth the sting and pulsating feeling that she was sure you had going on under the red flesh. Just three more left, you thought. There was a certain part of you that did not want her to stop but the curiosity of what she would do once she was done was rather overwhelming, the eighth blow landing a little bit closer to your upper thighs that Avis had intended, a yelp sliding past your ajar lips. This pain was somehow completely different to anything you had felt before and yet so fucking wonderful, so raw that your arms collapsed leaving the right side of your face resting over the carpet, eyes closed as you muttered “eight”. Avis bent forward to check on you, worried at the sight of you practically laid on the floor, her heart pounding and her hand nearly dropping the riding crop, but when she heard you say the number she released the breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding in her lungs. If you need her to stop you would say the word, she thought more in an attempt to reassure herself that you were fine than anything else.

You hadn’t noticed that your hips twitched a bit, calling out to her, your eyes opening briefly to lock with hers, the sight of her deep brown against your beautiful E/C being enough for her to see that you were in fact alright. Avis returned then quickly to her previous persona and inflicted one more smack, this time over both of your cheeks, your lower lip in between your teeth to prevent a moan from escaping, as the pain spiralled into pleasure so easily that it took you a few seconds to form the word she needed to hear. Fuck, it was delicious, you never wanted her to stop whipping you, you wanted to stay in this cloud of pleasure forever if she would allow it, but then the tenth and last smack came and it landed so hard against your skin that you screamed, your eyes filling with tears, the sting feeling like actual pain that you were certain you would not be able to withstand if she still had a few more spanks left. And yet it sent a jolt of pleasure so strong down to your core that you felt a gush in between your legs, your cunt aching so bad for her touch that you were an inch away from madness. You hadn’t realised how rapid your breaths were until you felt the fabric of the carpet brushing against your nipples with each hurried puff of air that you tried to force into your lungs. There was a ruffling right next to you, Avis’s face coming into your range of vision, her left hand resting over the carpet while the other one caressed the skin of your shoulder, still holding on to the riding crop, rubbing tender circles. You smiled at the gesture and after locking eyes with her you uttered the last word in a quiet voice filled with desire and a hint of relief.

-Ten. Did I do well, mother?

-You did very well. You were my very good girl, taking them all and never missing a number. – she gently took your hands and pulled you into a sitting position, a hiss slipping from your lips when you rested your buttocks on the heels of your feet. She would have asked if you were alright, but you clearly had enjoyed it, if the way your body had responded was anything to go by, her eyes having seen your thighs coated in your arousal. She pecked your shoulder, her hand caressing your upper back, moving gently over the red marks to sooth them. - You will not step out of line again, will you, darling?

-No, mother.

-Then I think a reward is in order. Is there anything my good girl wants mama to do to her?

-I want you to tie me mother.

-If that is what my baby girl wants, that’s what she’ll get.

She pulled you up until you were standing before her, legs slightly shaky but you stayed upright when she let go of your hands. The suitcase she had brought upstairs laid open over the covers, your eyes observing several items that rested inside it, over a satin liner: a blindfold, rich feathers, ropes and what looked to be a leash. She really had done her homework on the matter. She had turned around the bed to pick it up and place it over the settee at the foot of it, also taking the time to remove the covers and throw them on the floor. You were now standing on opposite sides of the bed, but Avis’s hands were not free anymore, she had a set of salmon-coloured ropes in between them, her fingers toying with one of the ends. It didn’t matter how many times she had seen you naked, you were still exceptional every single one of them, the evening light coming through the window giving you an ethereal look as its halo wrapped around your frame, your beauty doing things to her that she couldn’t put into words. Her body bent forward as one hand patted the mattress, signalling for you to hop on the bed which of course you did in a heartbeat, moving slowly, never breaking eye contact with her. You hadn’t noticed that the carpet had dug into the skin of your knees until they rested over the soft bedsheets and bland mattress that dipped as you rested your weight over it. Crawling towards her you were stopped by a gentle hand on your chest, your body following every cue she was giving you, from the way it pushed you away from her so you would be in the middle of the bed to the way she turned you and pushed you onto your back, laying fully over the mattress. The headboard had several pillows and cushions resting on it and Avis, as caring as she was, picked one up and pushed it under your hips to help with the sting and leftover pain on your ass cheeks.

She was being extremely tender with you, maybe because you had given her a couple of scares, but you did not mind this treatment, her hands grabbing yours and beginning to wrap the rope around your wrists making sure they were tight enough that you wouldn’t accidentally slip out of the hops but lose enough that they wouldn’t hurt you and draw out blood, though something told her that in the future you two might discuss such a topic. She finished by tying a knot, pulling the rope to try it out before she pushed your arms above your head. The headboard didn’t have any hooks or bars that she could tie the ends to, so she had to get a bit creative, kneeling on the floor to tie one to the foot of the bed before rounding to the other side and doing the same. You were now perfectly secured, a look of lust and anticipation in your eyes, watching as Avis began to walk around the perimeter of the bed making sure to never let her eyes stray from your naked form. God, she had you completely at her mercy to do as she pleased with, idea after idea filling her head until finally, she settled on one specific thing. From the foot of the bed and over the settee, she crawled on top of the bed, her hands running from your feet to your knees, parting your legs to accommodate herself in between them, resting her palms over your hip bone. Her lips made contact with your skin, trailing kisses from your abdomen all the way to your sternum, moving up to your neck and jawline, her mouth kissing the shell of your ear.

-You’ve been such a good girl. You want mama to touch you, don’t you?

You nodded, the feeling of her lips over your skin a most addictive sensation, and you knew she was not one to disappoint, retracing her steps while deliberately not touching your breasts, leaving wet patches over your overheated skin. She came to sit back on her knees, your fingers feeling the rough material of the rope as you watched how she removed her hands from your body and began to run them over her own from her hips all the way to her breasts, playing and kneading the flesh through her clothes, throwing her head back to give you an even better show. And then her fingers unclasped the first hook, her ample breasts one step closer to freedom. You were watching her with unbridled attention, pulling unconsciously on the ropes in an attempt to reach her and unclasp it yourself needing to touch her skin, but this was her fantasy now, having you at her mercy. Her fingers moved over the pink lace on the sides of the garment, playing with the boning until her hands reached the clips that had previously been holding her stockings, twirling them around until she unclasped the hook at the end of the garment letting your eyes see a bit of the perfect skin above her knickers. Your mouth was both dry and watering at the sight, breaths coming in hurried puffs as she trailed her hands back towards her tits and unhooked another one, her ample breasts nearly escaping from the corselette. They were so beautiful, and you wanted nothing else than to bury your face in between them, your arms moving a bit more frantically, the rough material of the rope digging slightly on your wrists forcing you to stop.

She was a perfect seductress, a temptress, removing her garment with slow steps as to drive your lust through the roof, but you could not beg her to be faster nor plead with her to let you touch her; you were not going to risk breaking another rule. She was only one hook away from being completely naked from the waist up and yet her hands did not go for it, they went to your feet, tracing the shape of your shin and knee, her lips planting sweet pecks on your inner thighs as your eyes glued to the way her breasts were screaming to be freed, hanging on by a thread. You honestly did not know which was better, the sight of her or the way her lips were kissing that sensitive skin in between your legs, scraping her teeth and nibbling gently, leaving angry red marks that her tongue soothed, her hands kneading the flesh around your hips almost as if she were ready to hold you in place should you start ruffling around. With each peck so got closer to your dripping cunt, the smell of your arousal so intoxicating that part of Avis wanted to simply bury her face in it and never let go, but you had bit her before, another infraction that she hadn’t forgotten about, and she had to punish you for it. Her lips left a kiss on the skin between your inner thigh and your cunt, hips buckling on their own towards her face, but the action only added to the fuel to tease you, and she slapped the side of your hip before pushing herself back to sit on her knees, the corselette slightly askew but her tits still hidden from your sight.

And then her hands traced her collarbone, the valley between her breasts and began to toy with the hook, your hands pulling on the ropes as your fingers wrapped around the cord in excitement. In slow motion she unclasped the corselette, your eyes watching at her delightful breasts bounced out of their confinement and the garment fell over the mattress behind her, a raised eyebrow and filthy smirk topping it all off. Fuck, you could have cum just from the sight of her. With cat like grace, she crawled back on top of you, both hands resting on either side of your head inching closer and closer to you mouth until finally she kissed you. You hadn’t realised how much you had craved her lips over yours until she was crashing them against your mouth, tongue battling against tongue to assert her dominance over you, though she didn’t need to, you were her slave, her submissive little girl. Your hands fought against their restrains as the need to touch her grew, but she paid it no mind, breaking the kiss to bite down hard on your lower lip, a gasp escaping your mouth as she drew blood, her tongue tracing the wound to pick up the droplet that had formed. The taste was metallic, but it mixed with the alcohol of her martini and the sweet essence that was you like a perfect drink. She began to play with you in earnest as her lips journeyed down the shape of your neck, biting and sucking on your pulse point hard so that there would be a mark left behind, eyes rolling to the back of your head briefly at the feeling, the bed moving slightly as your arms pulled against the ropes.

Your neglected breasts were calling out to her, kisses tracing the shape of the plump flesh before she popped one of your nipples in her mouth, twirling the pink bud, nibbling and sucking. You could not help it, a string of moans made their way out of your throat, the skin of your wrists stinging as you pulled harder to free your hands to thread your fingers in between her curls, but it was to no avail, she had tied them properly. Her attention moved to your other tit, teeth biting down to make you scream, and you were sure that this time people might have heard you through the open window, though you couldn’t give two shits with the way Avis’s hands and mouth were playing with your breasts, every sensation sending a jolt of pleasure down to your core that ached so bad for her you weren’t sure you would be able to hold off your orgasm for more than a few minutes. She loved playing with you, but there was a growing need to taste you, so her lips released your nipple after one finally suck, a deep moan emanating from your mouth, before she traced the shape of your sternum and began to move downwards through your abdomen and hips, sucking on the skin over your bone making sure to leave a bruise. It was a trait mark of hers at this point to always leave some sort of bruise on your skin, you supposed that it was her way of making sure people knew you belonged to someone. The anticipation was skyrocketing, hands actively pulling on the ropes now, the thick cords digging onto your skin as her mouth left a kiss over your pubic bone before your cunt was face to face with her, your glistening folds such a delicious sight. Wanting to prologue her teasing for a bit longer she slid her index finger up and down your cunt, a mix between a growl and a moan reverberating from your throat with each swipe, her fingertip brushing over your swollen clit.

-Fuck! - the touch sent sparks all throughout your body, your hips buckling against her hand as your head lulled back exposing your neck to her. She stopped all motions suddenly, a whine coming from your parted lips, forcing your eyes to open and look at her with a questioning glance.

-Did I tell you, you could speak, dear?

-N… No, mother.

-Then I should perhaps leave you like this until you learn to ask for permission.

-No, mother! I promise I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.

-Don’t apologise Y/N, never break a rule again. – her hands dug into the skin of your hips, her breath ghosting over your cunt, the warmth contrasting with the cooling sensation it gave you. - You know that if you want something from mama, you only have to ask.

-May I… may I speak, mother?

-Since you asked you nicely… you may.

A wave of relief washed over your body, but it was short lived as her mouth came crashing down over your cunt, and suddenly the only thing you could feel was pleasure. She was fucking fantastic with her tongue, lapping up and down your folds like a starving woman, gathering your juices and drinking in your sweet taste as her ears were graced with every moan and profanity known to humankind. Your arms hurt from the strength you were using to free yourself, the skin of your wrists probably red and raw as you thrashed around, head rolled back as she wrapped her lips around your swollen bud, twirling it up and down, from side to side. Every single movement was making your orgasm build faster and higher, pants and screams increasing in pitch. It was overwhelming the speed at which it was all happening, Avis pushing a finger inside you, curling and touching your sweet spot, the pleasure clouding your visions.

-DONTSTOPDONTSTOPDONTSTOP! FUCK AVIS!

She doubled her efforts now, pumping in and out of you as fast as her arm would allow her, feeling your walls clenching around her fingers harder with each passings minute. At the last second, she changed positions, her hand never stopping but her mouth releasing your clit, her body climbing over yours as her free hand came to rest next to your head. You had taught her a trick on New Year’s, and she had been waiting for the right moment to use it, and now seemed like the perfect moment, her hips slamming into her hand to use the momentum to pound into you, her thumb rubbing your bud. The force of her hips made your body rise and fall on the bed, your legs wrapping around her waist to keep her in place as you screamed higher and higher. You were so close, so fucking close, Avis pushing a second finger inside you, her mouth right next to your ear as she whispered.

-Cum for mama, darling.

And everything went white. Every single nerve in your body was burning bright, limbs twitching under the power of the orgasm she was giving you, her hips slamming into yours at a murdering pace, never stopping, never faltering, your hips trusting to meet her as your world filled with an explosive amount of pleasure and joy, screaming her name over and over. You were sure the skin of your wrists was broken by now, bleeding maybe, but you didn’t care, you were using the ropes as leverage to meet her movements like a psycho woman. It was insane all the things she was making you feel, that she had made you feel throughout this little escapade, but she was not letting up, your heart pounding against your ribs. You had not come down from your high when you felt a second one building deep in your core, Avis’s thumb putting a bit more of pressure on your clit making you jolt and yelp trying to escape her touch, but at the same time you just couldn’t, you were so close. She kissed your cheek as your breaths became ragged before returning in between your legs, her tongue taking every drop of arousal you had poured over her hand, her arm now a bit more relaxed after the break, but still pumping in and out, knuckles deep.

-YES! YES! GOD YES!

Her lips wrapped around you very swollen bud once more, twirling and sucking hard, your walls clenching around her fingers, your orgasm reaching a breaking point so fast that you almost felt like you couldn’t keep up. It was reaching a maddening point, her teeth scraping and nibbling, sending you over the edge for a second time, her hand pounding into you as with the other one she tried to still your manic movements against her face. The heels of your feet were digging onto the mattress as she carried on, fingers wrapped tightly around the thick ropes. She really was trying so fucking hard to squeeze every orgasm she could out of you, delighted in the way you thrashed around and called out her name in between pants. She could get a couple more, she was sure, adding a third finger, the sting of the stretch so delicious and almost a bit too much, but you pulled through, you could feel the third orgasm building so fast, so overwhelming under your hot skin, limbs twitching with every spark and jolt of electricity that Avis was producing with that gifted mouth of hers around your clit. It caught you by surprise when you had not come down and the third wave was crushing you under its explosive weight. This time there was a certain amount of pain spreading through every limb, your body moving, or trying to anyway, from Avis’s grip, needing her to give you a moment, but she did not stop, and you hoarse voice could not find the strength to scream any more, moans and pants the only thing echoing against the walls, sliding out the window.

There was no rhythm whatsoever to your movements, none at all as Avis continued with her assault on your extremely oversensitive bud, pumping her fingers in and out at a pace that you could not keep up with anymore. The pleasure that had built in your core was turning into pain, her hand not giving you a respite from all the sensations and powerful orgasms, because each of them had sent you to the fucking stars in one hell of an astral journey, but this time you couldn’t give her a fourth one. Your juices were dripping out of you onto the pillow underneath your ass while also all over Avis’s hand, mouth and chin. Suddenly you felt it all a thousand times clearer when, as you were rolling out of your third peak, you squirted all over her, the pleasure skyrocketing for a moment, your back arched off the bed, face turned to the side hidden by your arm, until the pain overtook it all. It spread to every limb, every cell of your body, her ministrations too fucking overwhelming that you could feel your lungs failing to breath, your head dizzy, the feeling that you might actually pass out filling your chest as your hazy mind tried to figure out how to tell her.

-Stop! Avis… fuck… Stop! BLACK! BLACK!

Instantly her movements stilled, pulling her fingers out of you and jerking her body into a sitting position before crawling fast to your side. The waves of pain and pleasure were still coursing through your body, but at least you could feel air passing through your lungs once again, the aching fading slowly as Avis quickly worked on the ropes to release your hands, taking them in hers once it laid on top of the pillows, forgotten. You had hurt your wrists she noticed, broken bleeding skin meeting her eyes before she gently placed them over the mattress to turn all her attention to you, pushing the sweat covered hair off your forehead. She should have noticed, she thought, she should have paid more attention to how ragged your breaths were, to how you were trying to pull away from her, worry and terror filling her chest as you remined laying there.

-Are you alright? Talk to me, please.

-Moment.

You needed a moment, okay, you had spoken, quietly, but spoken anyway, you were breathing, you just needed a moment. The dizziness was slowly fading as well, leaving traces of a light-headedness that you could cope with. Avis slipped from the bed to get you some water, rushing back to your side in under a minute trying not to spill it, keeping her eyes glued to your chest. It rose and fell at a slower pace, the raspiness it had held before no longer audible, your limbs motionless, completely spent over the mattress, only twitching every once in a while as the afterglow began to seep into your bones and muscles relaxing you, letting the scare pass. Avis could see that you were getting better, but that could not shake the feeling that she had accidentally overstepped, even if this was exactly why there was a safe word system. Her free hand caressed your forehead gently, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths. After a few minutes you opened your eyes slowly to meet a pair of brown terrified orbs.

-Are you okay?

-Yeah. It was… just a bit much.

-Here, drink some water. – she helped you to sit in bed, placing the glass against your lips and tipping it so you could drink, neither of you trusting your arms to hold it. Once you were done Avis placed the glass on the nightstand, quickly returning her attention to you as her hands rested on your cheeks. – Are you sure you are fine? I can take you to a doctor if you need one.

-I’m okay. You were doing great; you were just not giving me time to rest and I kind of nearly passed out. I would have been fine if I had fainted, you would have needed to give be some more time to recover, but I didn’t want to scare you like that.

-As if this didn’t scare me already.

-We’ll get better, I mean neither of us are used to doing this on a daily basis. Maybe we need to learn how to read the cues that each other’s bodies are giving us, pay a little more attention before we carry on.

-You don’t want to stop? You nearly passed out.

-If you mean as of right now, I think I’m done Avis, but I don’t want us to not try again some other day. We need to be more careful next time, that’s all. By the way, what were you trying to do?

-Overstimulate you. – she could not help the chuckle that escaped her, her forehead resting against yours for a moment before she pecked your lips and sat back, taking your hands in hers to take a look at your scrapes. They weren’t too bad, but it would be best to bandage them.

-Well, you certainly cracked it.

-Oh, shut up. You really scared the shit out of me just now. I don’t think I want to do this particular thing again.

-Well, I want you to.

-What? – her head rose to look at you, surprise not even covering what she was feeling as your eyes smiled gently at her.

-Yeah, I was liking it until I panicked, but now that I know that this are the signs, I can give you a warning. We just need to learn Avis. You’ll be a pro in no time.  

-You are masochist.

-Maybe. We can look into that some other time. Right now I believe that there’s a round two due.

-You want to carry on? You nearly fainted on me Y/N!

-Oh, don’t worry, I’m done, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be.

-I don’t need to continue, you’ve pleased me enough.

-I’ve been mama’s good girls, I know, but I think that after doing so well just now, a reward is due.

-A reward? What reward? – your face moved until it was inches away from hers, lips ghosting over lips as your hands travelled up her thighs towards her hips, fingering the fabric of her knickers.

-I want you to let go for me Avis. Let me take you to Dreamland.

There really was no need, but how could she say no when your eyes were pleading with hers like that. She found herself nodding, letting you move her around until she was the one sitting on the spot you had just been in over the mattress, the ruined pillow ending up on the floor. Your lips met hers in a sweet kiss, tracing the shape of her mouth with your tongue, the line of her jaw and licking that spot that always made her moan under her ear. What a delightful sound it was. You carried on tasting the skin of her neck and sucking on her pulse point until you were sure you had left a mark, but at least this time you wouldn’t have to worry about her husband finding out. Your teeth scraped the shape of her collarbone and left a wet trail down her sternum and in the valley between her breasts, her hands moving to thread her fingers in your hair. As you moved your body downward on the bed you felt the opened suitcase with your foot, an idea assaulting you suddenly. You met her deep eyes, whispering tenderly against her lips.

-Do you trust me?

-Yes.

-Then close your eyes.

She held your gaze for a second before following your words, her ears picking up on some ruffling sounds and the shift of weight on the mattress. She was curious about what you had planned, maybe you were going to tie her, maybe you were going to spank her and punish her for nearly leaving you unconscious in a hotel room. The sky is the limit. Your hands caressed the shape of her arms, a piece of fabric following your fingers until she felt something covering her eyes, her long eyelashes pressed against white satin. So, you were going to blindfold her, well, that was something she had not considered, but she wasn’t going to complain. Now that her sight was gone all her other senses heightened, her ears picking up every single breath you took, the way the bedsheets ruffled under both your weights. Your lips landed on her shoulder, pecking and drawing a gasp as her hands gripped the sheets, each kiss leaving a path of goosebumps over her skin as your fingers begun toying with the waistband of her knickers. Each touch felt a thousand times better, each kiss leaving her wanting more. Suddenly your breath was in her ear, making her turn her head toward the sound of your voice.

-Lay down for me Avis.

With her hands in yours she let herself fall gently on the mattress, her head coming to rest over a soft pillow. She had expected for you to start kissing down her body, but she couldn’t feel anything, she couldn’t hear you either, her heart pounding in her chest. A soft warm object that felt much like fur landed on her chest, her breath hitched in her lungs at the sensation, and as it moved down in between her breasts and abdomen she felt like the path it had left was fire. The unknown object changed places and was now following the line of her shin and thigh, her head turning instinctively towards the left side, gasps sliding from her ajar lips with each new touch. Her mind was a bit hazy with how it all felt, but after a moment it clicked that you were using the bright white feather that she had had in her suitcase. Weren’t you a sneaky one. You had moved it to her neck, the touch sending a shiver down her spine before your lips came to connect with the skin of her sternum, adding to the goosebumps that already painting every inch of her body. She had never known that losing her sight, even if it was momentarily, could make everything else just spike, your kisses leaving her flesh ablaze as you moved down her abdomen.

Suddenly your lips left her skin, and she felt your weight go to the side of the bed and then return in between her legs, unsure what was going on, her head moving from side to side trying to pick up anything at all. A slashing sound cut through the air and landed with a cracking smack right beside her right hip, over the mattress, Avis’s body jolting at it. Oh God, were you going to spank her? The thought made her heart race, her breath hurried in anticipation but the expected command to turn around an place herself on all fours never came, and the leather only landed over her skin the same way the feather had. It was such a contrast, the material completely different, and the cooling touch it left on her thigh driving her mad. You slid the riding crop down to her foot and then rose it until rested under her chin, lifting her head slightly to grant you a better access to her neck, lips latching to her pulse point as if you needed it to live. A moan escaped from her throat, her hands patting your head until she was able to thread her fingers in between your soft locks, grounding herself as the feather began to move down her right arm. She couldn’t get enough of all the sensations that were rushing through her body, the fabric of her knickers an obstacle at this point, hoping you would do something about it soon.

Lifting yourself back onto your knees she had to let go of your hair, hands dropping to the sides as suddenly the cold leather of the riding crop slid over her left breast, playfully slapping her nipple. That simple action made Avis arch her back, a yelp and a moan mixing in the hot air around you, the feather now running over the skin of her inner thighs, her reflective instinct being to buckled her hips and at the same time to try and push her legs together, but as you were in between them she could not, your hands coming to rest on her hip bone to still her. The way she was responding to you was delightful, every sound, every movement was simply exquisite, but you wanted more. Your fingers slid to the waistband of her underwear, pushing them slowly down her legs until they laid on the floor, Avis’s body completely bare for your eyes only. She could not see the way you were drinking her in, her hands grasping the sheets as she impatiently waited for you to do something, the anticipation driving her insane with desire. The feather returned to the valley between her breasts, travelling down until it moved over her dripping cunt, the sensation making her arch her back once again and lull her head back, buckling her hips towards you, but you were not done.

Her ample breasts were screaming for you to touch them, you could almost hear them as you buried your face in between them, kneading the flesh and rolling her nipples with your thumbs as you licked and nibbled at the skin. You were torturing her, a delicious playfulness that she could not get enough of, your lips so gentle while your hands gave her tits a more rough treatment. Satisfied with her pants and gasps you proceeded to pop one nipple in your mouth, sucking hard and scraping the sensitive bud with your teeth, your name slipping out of her mouth with a scream as the hand that had rested on your head now pulled, the sting on your scalp not that much of a foreign feeling to you. Your mouth felt like heaven, each touch and feeling driving her core to burn brighter and hotter for you, a plead nearly coming out of her mouth, but she was unable to speak as you moved to her other nipple, biting down instead before twirling it around with your tongue. Her brain was turning all mushy with the way you were kissing, your hands rubbing circles on her thighs.

-Y/N, please.

-Please? – you released her nipple with a loud pop, the leather of the riding crop returning to slide up and down both arms. -What do you want Avis?

-Stop teasing.

-And if I stop, what would you want me to do?

-Eat me out.

-Is that so? Well, I am here to please.

She gasped and yelped as you smacked the leather tongue gently on the side of her hip before she felt the weight shift between her legs. The first swipe of your tongue had her eyes rolling to the back of her head, a curse slipping out without her being able to stop it, not that she would have. You had missed that salty taste that was Avis, you had nearly forgotten the way her skin felt under your palms, the sounds that only your ears would hear. You had missed everything that was Avis in this past week, and the only thing you wanted to do was make her forget all the stress and frustration that life had brought her way. Your tongue lapped in between her folds so easily, your fingers parting her entrance so you could push it and out of her, the moans that reached your ears such a melodious sound to hear. What you were doing to her felt like electricity in every cell of her body, the tactile sense having heightened more than a hundred percent, driving every single touch to feel as if it was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt in her life. Without warning, and without need, you pushed two fingers in, a scream reverberating from her throat so loudly that it was a matter of time when you would have a worker from the hotel knocking on your door, but until that moment came you were going to try your best to make her voice be heard all throughout Hollywood.

Your arm pumped your fingers in and out of her fast and without a care in the world, pushing them out almost completely before returning them inside her hot velvety cunt until your knuckles were nestled between her fold, curling your fingertips enough so you would touch that wonderful spot inside her. This went on for a few minutes, your eyes taking in the way she thrashed around the bedsheets, her hips buckling and thrusting against your hand to match you. Her neck and chest were red, both from the exertion and due to every little mark you had left on her soft flesh, a thin layer of sweat forming all over her body. Her moans were beginning to rise in pitch, her orgasm getting closer and closer, but you wanted the whole experience to be monumental, your mouth returning to her cunt to suck her folds and lick them before twirling her swollen clit with your tongue, the bud moving up and down as you toyed with it, a hand suddenly on your head pushing your face closer to her if that was even possible.  

-God Y/N! You are wonderful! FUCK!

You could not help it, you wanted to see her unravel before you, and so you pushed a third finger inside her, the stretch bring on a fluttering of her walls, the pace as fast as your arm and back would allow you and the sound of her juices quenching around you as you pushed your hand knuckles deep inside her so utterly filthy and sinful and yet, it was driving Avis insane. The sensation of the feather moving over her stiff nipples was enough to send her over the edge, but your lips sucking on her clit certainly gave her a better push, helping her tip over it. Her back arched off the bed, grinding her hips against your face maniacally as the peak of her orgasm exploded all around her.

-YES! YES! AHHHHH, YESYESYES!

Her throat would be raw tomorrow, maybe even this evening as her screams echoed and reverberated against the walls, leaving a slight ringing in your ears. The white-hot pleasure spread through every limb, her vision clouded with stars as you slowed your pace after a minute, helping her ride out her orgasm. She was not going to lie, every single peak you had given her had been marvellous, but what you had just done to her was beyond that. It had been mind-blowing, explosive, every single sensation multiplied by a thousand, shivers running from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt the hand that just had the feather rubbing circles on her thigh, your fingers slowing down ever further until she collapsed on the bed, her chest rising and falling in hurried pants, her hand releasing your hair and flopping beside her. Her walls still clung to your fingers every few seconds accompanied with her hips twitching, but you had to pull out, a whine slipping through her ajar mouth at the loss of contact. Climbing on top of her you carefully removed the blindfold, letting it fall somewhere on the side, her eyes lazily opening to meet yours after your lips pecked her cheeks and eyelids.

-Holy shit.

-I guess you liked it then.

-Liked it? If you don’t fuck me with a blindfold on at least once a week, I swear I’ll fire you from the studio.

-Well, we can’t risk that. I guess I will have to obey mother and blow your brains out. – the room filled with chuckles and laughter, only muffled by her lips claiming yours, her tongue running over your lower one tasting the wound she had inflicted, but you didn’t seem to mind one bit. Upon parting you moved off of her to let her sit, Avis quickly chugging down the water that had been left in the glass. – Do you want to tell me what happened at the office today?

-Oh, fuck no. But I’ll tell you this. It’s always fucking Lon.

-Why doesn’t that surprise me.

-Now is my turn to ask. How do you know the station? – Avis rested her body against the headboard, picking up the feather you had abandoned over the mattress to toy with it, her breath slightly hurried still.

-When I came here for the first time Ernie offered me a job as a secretary, and I took it. And before you ask, it was just that. About three weeks later a lady came and she would have none of the boys, so I offered myself. Ernie was happy, the lady was happy, she paid well and so he hired me. But as strange as it sounds, there is not that big of a market for ladies that want to be entertained by ladies, so Ernie decided to not put me on contract for that part of the business and when I read about that job offer in the newspaper that Miss Kincaid needed a secretary I applied and got it. End of story.

-But you still visit.

-Yeah, he lets me oversee the accounts, and he likes having interesting conversations. It can get a bit boring hearing his precious boys talk about how they want to be in the big screen.

-And am I a hot topic?

-Always. He has told me many secrets about you, but I’m afraid I cannot tell you. I wouldn’t want to break his trust.

-Oh? – she pushed herself off the headboard, crawling your way with a naughty smirk on her lips, her eyes narrowing as she got closer to you. – Is mama going to have to fuck them out of you?

-Perhaps. – she was sitting on your thighs now, your hands resting behind you as to stabilise yourself. - He’s a very good friend, I really shouldn’t tell.

-Doesn’t mama mean more to you than him? Doesn’t mama do things to you that no one else does?

-Yes. – The word came out more breathless than you had intended, but it did not matter. Avis pushed herself to the side and picked up an item from the suitcase that was behind you, showing you the long leash you had seen before, a leather collar attached to it.

-Then be a good girl and start talking or I’m going to have you at my feet all night long. Pet.

[slay00ryu]

Hello!! I really like your KC works!! Can I please request some stuff for Ronin with MC who's a streamer that frequently streams horror games and who met Ronin through one of their streams instead of the chat?

Thank you! Have a nice day!

From behind the screen.

Ronin was bored, so like any other person would so, he ended up browsing the Internet. He didn't have anything in particular in mind. He ended up browsing through a streaming website, looking at the 'horror' category. No one caught his eye, at least until he noticed one game that made him crackle; Escape The Devil's Butcher.

"Hah, so I have games now?" He shook his head, entering the stream.

In front of him there was a person, shouting when the most stereotypical interpretation of how The Butcher would look; literally a HUGE man, tats an' all, with butcher's knives in both hands. The mask was the only thing they got semi-right, because his face was masked at least.

"Fuck! Guys there's no way I will escape death now." The streamer said very loudly, they were laughing at how shitty the game's graphic were, but were shouting whenever 'The Butcher' got too close to them in game. Damn they're fuckin' funny alright. Ronin thought to himself as he clicked the follow button. Soon an alert of new follower popped up, scaring the poor streamer and getting them killed.

"Jeez... Thanks for the scare... goreboy? I hope I got it right!" They said, smiling at the screen and reading the chat, answering some of the fans' comments or questions.

goreboy: yeah you Did goreboy: why're ya playing a game About the butcher? goreboy: and How did find It?

He typed out, waiting for the answer. There were roughly two hundred viewers and the chat was moving rather slowly, he would for sure be seen in the chat.

"Oh? One of my viewers sent me a link to it, may whatever bless me for it not being the "PARASOCIAL" situation or I would just go find the real The Butcher as my last stream." Their joke made Ronin laugh out loud, ah they were so effortlessly amusing, maybe he could stay for longer as their viewer?

goreboy: what Games are you Usually playin'?

He looked at the streamer's face, not really interested in the game they were playing at the moment.

"Wow you really are interested with the questions, maybe you're the stalker?" They chuckled, reaching their hand out for something, that something being a bottle of water.

goreboy: can't A guy be curious?

He watched them roll their eyes at his answer, open their water bottle to drink from it and put it back to where it was before.

"Oh yeah very curious I fear." They fixed their seating. "I normally play horrors, or stupid visual novels if my viewers want to traumatize me with their content." They answered and clapped their hands. "Okay gang, time to return to this thing." And with that they returned to playing.

Ronin was a regular guest to Y/N's streams, he even became a supporter. Why wouldn't he show support to his favourite streamer anyways?

Being able to sit back and watch a stream or just interact with the streamer themselves after a kill or an annoying client in the workshop was a good way to relax. He didn't have to do anything, just sit and watch.

While he was cleaning the blood off of his hands he heard a nullification coming from his phone, got him curious so after drying his hands he checked it out. Turns out it was a private message from the streamer themselves.

[streamer-name🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆]: Hey goreboy! Sry if it's super random, just wanted to reach out to one of my mot loyal viewers!

Interesting, Ronin thought to himself and replied.

goreboy: oh? i'm Graced with the presence of none Other than Y/N's? really makes a guy Feel special.

[streamer-name🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆]: Oh I forgot how cocky you are in the chat emo boi🙄

goreboy: yeah, yeah, are you Going to run Away now that you left me The heartfelt message?

[streamer-name🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆]: And break your little heart? Nah, I'll keep you company ♥

Oh that made Ronin laugh, they didn't know who he was, and that made it all even funnier...

He couldn't wait for the day he would be able to see their face when they find out the truth.

Headcanons <3

Ronin is your biggest supporter. He's in the middle of a kill, but you started your stream? Guess the murdered guy is also watching while Ronin cuts him open.

Once you start dating Ronin is a guest on your streams, your fans are eating it up. Ronin is a tease, makes sure to disturb you while you're playing games and then laughs at you when you die or get jumpscared.

When you're sick Ronin bans you from even touching your computer "You're sick darl, we don't need you ending up in a hospital." He would say and lay in bed with you - just to hold you of course (he will never admit to being touch starved)

If you're a vtuber he will buy the vtuber's merch just to annoy you and show off to his friends.

[writermask-0807]

“heaven’s blessings.” {king baldwin iv x reader}

A/N: ahaha so yk how i said i'm gonna watch kingdom of heaven?? (it isn't available on bflix or any other website/app i checked 😭 someone pls help) i haven't yet 😅 (ALL HISTORIC AND KOH CRITICS PLS DONT COME FOR ME I DONT MEAN ANY HARM) so there's probably gonna be a lot of stuff wrong with this, and um. yk how i also said i was working on a koh fic?? yh this is not that one. for some reason i couldn't go any further than a couple of paragraphs, so here i am. with this absolutely shitty fic that looks even more horrible as I reread but. hope you enjoy?? 😭😭

warnings: hanahaki, some descriptions of hanahaki (?? it isn't that graphic or anything tho), also feel like i used 'bcos' too much, angst with no happy ending 😭 I promise the other one is happy!! 😭😭

word count: 322

thinking of king baldwin iv w hanahaki.

don’t you think that he would be the type that, as a man of strong faith, to think that this, too, is a blessing from god?

as a man of already frail health, this new illness is bound to take an even more horrible toll on his battered broken body;

taking root under his disfigured skin. fronds twining through his veins, greenery curling round his ribcage, twisting in his airways, stealing his very breath. blooming quietly in the darkness, petals like cremation ashes falling past his bruised lips like a prayer, some holy thing that can’t be attained.

because that’s what you are.

unattainable.

because knowing you - you with your tender smiles and your healing hands and your kind heart - you might probably still accept him, even with all of his ugliness, his ruined skin and broken bones, even with this blessing that’s really only a curse. but he can’t allow that. he can’t possibly be that selfish.

not to you, never.

it’s why he flinches away from your touch (no matter how much he yearns for it), soft and feather-light as it is, why he forces himself to look away from your wide eyes, your expression that’s hurt but you smile through it anyway because you wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re so gentle and kind and loving-

and he can’t.

and maybe that’s what his love for you is meant to be, in this lifetime. a love that seeps through skin and blood and bone. a love that lingers like an illness, because he can’t let you.

a blessing.

(and it’s only when the end is near that he gathers the delicate flowers into his arms, holds them close to his chest. this is the closest he can ever let you be.

and as his eyes flutter shut for the last time, he dares to hope-

perhaps, in another life.)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week. 

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change.  Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work. 

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it. 

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in. 

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered. 

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer. 

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before. 

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you. 

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line. 

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss. 

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life. 

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms. 

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case. 

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone. 

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour. 

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped. 

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess. 

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you. 

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights. 

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form. 

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet. 

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal. 

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan. 

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you. 

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office. 

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious. 

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat. 

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered. 

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale. 

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home. 

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance. 

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired. 

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount. 

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’. 

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me. 

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had. 

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet. 

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark. 

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight. 

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline. 

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you? 

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone. 

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.” 

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you. 

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time. 

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!” 

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.” 

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it. 

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister. 

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.” 

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.” 

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.” 

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera. 

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name. 

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass. 

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands. 

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you. 

“You were my boss.” 

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?” 

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat. 

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground. 

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.” 

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.” 

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet. 

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command. 

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin. 

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon. 

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath. 

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot. 

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation. 

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage. 

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.” 

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?” 

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.” 

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry” 

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.” 

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time. 

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone. 

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape. 

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“ 

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“ 

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece. 

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath.  “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness. 

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you. 

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

[physalian]

Content Warnings for Original Books

Can we please encourage content warnings for smut and other triggering topics in published literature? This needs to be a thing. Everyone bashes fanfiction for being fanfiction, but I’ve never seen a fanfic where the smut or trigger warnings weren’t tagged to high heaven somewhere in the description or in the opening author’s note.

AO3, compared to FFN, even has a specific “mature” rating just for sex—”E”—that FFN didn’t have. FFN had nervous authors throwing objectively mild content into the “M” rating (e.g. "rated M to be safe"), which meant that if you wanted to read a story that was a little bit violent, you had to turn off your filters as a kid and sift through all the smut just to find that one smut-less, but violent, fic.

When I was a kid in my early FFN days, I was probably exposed to way more stuff I shouldn’t have been reading because I had to disable the mature filter, just so I could read so-called “graphic violence” from pearl-clutching authors. I’d be looking for that one action-adventure fic that happens to have a little murder in it, and sift through fifty pure-smut summaries that ranged from vanilla to straight BDSM—of which had a high chance of being incredibly unhealthy, but you wouldn’t know that at 10, 11, 12 years old.

Fanfic authors, especially when the fanfic platform gives them the freedom to tag, are very clear to let you know just what you’re getting into.

—

I doubt I need to explain what a content warning is on Tumblr, but I will anyway. A content or trigger warning is a heads up at the beginning of a work of media that there are some elements not meant for younger audiences, or for sensitive audiences, or for people who have experienced situations depicted in traumatic ways, or for people who just don’t want to consume media with such content.

In film, this is obvious. If it’s rated R, you generally know what to expect. Generally. Because an R rated film could be R because of anything from profanity to graphic sex/assault and torture scenes. The MPAA rating system is garbage and ‘harsh language’ is not nearly on the same tier as sex in terms of what we should expose our children to.

Before streaming like Amazon as a platform to get around cable censorship rules, you had premium networks like HBO for all your adult content, and then some shows greenlit on smaller networks like AMC—never on ABC, CBS, TNT, etc. HBO wasn’t only for adult stuff, I used to watch Crashbox all the time.

That was the place you went for media that circumvented foul language, violence, and nudity rules in America. It kind of came with its own built-in content warning by virtue of being on those networks, and even then they still give warnings for shows on HBO, Showtime, Starz, etc.

At the start of every episode, you either get a full screen from Starz with the little icons for profanity, nudity, violence, etc, or it would be up at the top around the episode's title. You'd know exactly what you were getting into.

—

In a fanfiction, because I’ve never seen one in an original book, much less for generic vanilla sex scenes, this is what we’re all familiar with:

A/N: Trigger warning! This story contains mentions of rape/non-con. Turn back now, don’t like don’t read.

They also tend to appear at the top of the chapter that contains said scene to double down on the warning, or will, upon completion, include which chapter or chapter section to skip in the work’s summary or opening author’s note. In the old FFN days, there might even be a 4th wall break mid-chapter. Though the terminology we use over the years shifts, we still manage to get the point across.

Like, if I turn off all the filters on AO3 trying to browse for tags and underloved characters that may be lumped in with stuff I’d rather not read, I’ll see tags like “DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,” which was not a thing in FFN days, even if FFN had allowed things like tags.

While it’s easier to tell in movies due to that shitty-but-functional rating system, that’s not really the case with fiction books. With books, I know the genre, and I know the intended audience age group. If I pick up a book in the children’s sci-fi section, I know it’s going to be something about robots or space or the future and our characters are going to be about twelve years old.

If I pick up a YA thriller, I know I’m going to have a cast of sixteen-to-twenty-somethings and there’s going to be some violence, very vanilla cussing or the author’s own slang, and probably some murder.

Adult or new adult romance—Sex. At least one scene guaranteed.

The problem is that unlike films and TV shows, we don’t get a breakdown for books on what to expect and the nature of those scenes. There’s no little ‘R’ sticker on the back cover and there’s certainly no little insert between chapters to let you know what’s coming next. There's no "trailer" I can read to get a sense of your tone.

So if I’m in the mood for a new adult supernatural romance novel and I have to sit through a vanilla sex scene, that’s fine, that’s what I’m reading it for. But if Mr. Badboy is incredibly aggressive and dominating and being an asshole with very dubious consent, that’s different (although, objectively determining what is and isn't 'dubious' is mighty difficult).

Should I still expect that I take my fluffy or angsty romance with a fat grain of salt just in case?

What happens if it’s not a romance novel, but I get a surprise rape scene as my character’s Tragic Backstory? What if it’s an adventure novel? Spy thriller? High fantasy or historical fiction or murder mystery? If there’s no indication in the genre, summary, or by the style of the cover that I’ll have to read about two characters getting it on?

Some people don’t want to read your characters in all the nitty gritty details. They really like everything else about your book, they just don’t want to read a sex scene, and they really don’t want to be super invested, hundreds of pages and even years of series dedication in, and be massively turned off by smut.

It doesn't need to be this big to-do or hyperdetailed like fanfic. In my upcoming book, I had beta readers with personal and moral objections to some of my themes. From then on, I made sure to ask up front so I didn't trigger my betas.

ENNS is about vampires. I haven't settled on what my content warning page might look like or how exactly I want to phrase it, but it might read something like this:

Dear readers, this is a content warning for graphic violence and adult themes. This book contains mentions of assault, self-harm, and suicide. Please be warned that these themes are present and prevalent in this story and readers should take the utmost care for yourselves when approaching this book. Thank you.

Something like this, just a quick, lighthearted heads up for your novel would suffice:

Dear readers, this book ain’t for kiddies! Be prepared for some adult themes and suggestive romance between characters.

I'm definitely not in the camp of pearl-clutching suburban conservatives, but if I'm browsing for a new novel for my tweenage bookworm and I opened up a book with an intriguing summary, and saw that warning? I'd be much happier with the author for their consideration, instead of buying it blind for my kid. You have no idea why someone wouldn't want to read a sex scene. They might be prude, or they might be a survivor just trying to enjoy a new book.

Because romance and sex is taken for granted, most people are at least going to be open to the possibility of sex, but not everyone will be expecting it or wanting it or think it warranted. It’s not spoilery, it’s not revealing some surprise plot twist, it’s a kind and considerate gesture for those members of your audience who just don’t like sex scenes. And heck, maybe they don't want to read it right now, but they'll remember you and pick your book back up later because you tried.

—

TL;DR: I don’t mind smut. When done well.

There’s a reason romance such a compelling story and why it dominates fanfiction and original works leagues ahead of all other plotlines.

But it still needs a content warning, even if you think it’s obvious, or spoilery, or patronizing. Because if I’m not in the mood for it, it just drags and I want to put the book down instead of reading all your hard work to completion.

[jnnul]

nct dream in college

a/n: my third fucking time posting this istg this is why i quit the first time tumblr let me post things in peace

word count: 2.6k

tags: idk the frattiest boys in town doing what college dudes do, just fluff, hinting at insecurity + fear for the future, and a couple mentions of ppl not following their dreams for practicality sake but what can u do tw: mentions of drinking & underage drinking, mentions of sex but no graphics

Originally posted by choi-soobin

gif creds: @choi-soobin​

finance bro w a music minor

i’m so sorry to all of the ppl who hc him as a nerdy music kid who just always thinks abt music

but that boy is a finance bro thru and thru and i will die on that hill

he’s in a frat but he’s honestly rlly shitty abt act going to the non-party frat stuff

and even the parties, he rlly only goes to bc he dj’s every single time

ppl get annoyed sometimes bc mark always tries to slip in some of his stuff into the mix but it’s honestly so good that he gets away w it

his homies make fun of him for it but he sits in the first three rows bc a) he’s fucking blind and b) he act rlly likes finance

like he enjoys the idea of finance + what he could do w it in the future

even if he doesn’t necessarily like business calc

goes to church on sundays (if he’s not hungover) and will be so respectful abt it that he convinces some of his non-christian friends to go to

mark has a good rep on campus for being an all around pretty chill dude

everyone’s also half convinced that he’s a plug

swears up and down that he doesn’t smoke but ppl have videos of him puffin like it’s his side hustle

it is

kinda sticks to his own friend group bc he’s a little shy

but when he’s drunk (when someone wrestles him out of his little dj booth to do shots w them)

he knows everyone and their mother all of a sudden

kinda cute when he’s drunk cause he’s rlly lovey

ppl kinda like like him as that cute guy in their class but he never rlly goes out of his way to pursue anyone so anyone who’s interested has to be the one who chases

isn’t clueless but is oblivious until one day you’re basically sitting on his lap during lecture and he’s like 😟🤨🧐😏

the day he gets cuffed tho literally no one can pull him apart from his girl

Originally posted by rainbowrenjun

gif creds: @rainbowrenjun​

so...this might be controversial

but i think renjun would be a international relations major, not an art major

i feel like he’s a practical guy and he likes art but not enough to pursue it as a livelihood yannowhatimean

isn’t that well connected on campus bc he keeps his friend circle very exclusive but literally everybody and their mother knows him

kinda has a reputation for being a little cliquey but he gets away w it bc he’s just genuinely a decent guy who’s on the more private side

you will never catch him drunk

like he def won’t be sober at parties but you’re never gonna see him stumbling around

the type of guy to keep an eye on a girl’s cup if she leaves it somewhere, even if no one asks him to

also volunteers on the weekends at a local shelter for ppl of different nationalities

a private guy tho. ppl rlly don’t get to know or understand him unless they’re part of his friend group

which is nearly impossible to join

just kinda cruisin’ thru life bc he’s unproblematic and just rlly wants to get a degree and dip

gets the some of the best grades out of his friends (jeno is the only one who does better and jaemin make a close second) but donghyuck insists it’s bc renjun’s major isn’t a real major

chenle threatens to send the video of donghyuck and renjun slipping on their asses and falling into the pool as renjun tried to fight donghyuck to every single person that renjun even considers seeing romantically

probably dates once a year, eventually falls out of attraction and then swears off dating

until donghyuck gets on his ass abt not having sex and then renjun’s competitive streak gets activated

during which he speed dates for like three weeks before finding someone and then trying to date them

isn’t very emotionally invested in his romantic relationships

except for one of them, and ever since they told renjun off, he was unseperable from them

renjun may or may not have a masochist streak it’s still unclear

Originally posted by poppypeachy

gif creds: @jaemtens​

a physics and education double major

he didn’t really know what he wanted to go into so he was undeclared for the longest time until he took a physics gen ed and ever since then, he’s been super into physics

only added education as his second major after he ta’d for physics 1 and for the first time, could actually see himself in that career

gets the most shit for being in a frat and simultaneously being the biggest fucking nerd but he just thinks its funny

isn’t super smart (like he’s not a genius or anything) but he works rlly hard for his grades so even tho his friends (donghyuck) make fun of him, everyone is inspired by his work ethic

until it’s the weekend

and then it’s like he’s another person altogether

he’s downing shots like there’s no tomorrow and if jeno lee attends a party by himself, then he’s leaving with at least one person

on a particularly daring occasion, he was seen leaving with three

people are convinced that jeno has a twin brother bc of how bold, lively, and undeniably charismatic he gets when he lets go of his inhibitions

jeno just smiles a sweet smile and redirects the conversation

a very much go with a flow type of guy

he’s down for pretty much anything as long as he makes it home in time to study for the next day

spontaneous camping trip? sure. smoke a blunt? sure. join a threesome w one of his best friends and his girlfriend? sure.

he just didn’t take a lot of things too seriously (besides his academics and whether or not his dick got wet)

and that was why a lot of ppl liked him

he was also a rlly easy person to talk to

everyone knew that the first half of his office hours were for actual physics and stuff and the second half was just for chilling w him

which is how he met his s/o, actually

they used to come for office hours every single time jeno held them and would stay the whole time; it was only two weeks later when jeno accidentally saw their test scores (straight 90s without the curve) that he realized that maybe, he was in the clear to make a move

after the semester is over ofc

Originally posted by donghyuckkies

gif creds: @donghyuckkies​

a poli sci major with a minor (or as he likes to call it, a concentration) in criminal justice

will not let you forget that he’s in a frat

no one has the heart to tell him that he almost got kicked out of the frat 3 times but they keep him around bc he’s just a good guy overall

plus he brings the most girls to parties so it’s rlly not all that bad

the dude who’s surprisingly quiet and intellectual, but only when you catch him on his own

when he’s with his friends, he acts completely differently, even if he turns around and mouths “i’m sorry” while no one is looking

probably runs a club like devil’s advocate club but it’s just a silly club that uses university money to buy snacks, chill, and talk about controversial opinions

lowkey the guy to go to if you need something or need something done because the man knows everyone

and everyone knows him

will make fun of you for studying, and might even steal your textbook, but sends you a quizlet with last year’s answers bc that’s just the type of person he is

does not study. will not study. would rather listen to music w mark or party w jeno.

still has pretty decent grades bc he’s charming and persuasive and what is political science besides the art of professional bullshitting

once you get close to him, he becomes one of the best ppl for advice

will not let you go after the sneaky link turned situationship

mostly bc he knows exactly what said situationship is rlly up to behind the scenes (i’m telling you, the fbi wishes that had him; he knows everyone’s business)

will die before he tells anyone but probs runs one of those confession pages

partly how he gets all of his info from

thinks it’ll ruin his street cred if he tells ppl he’s secretly playing cupid and that’s why he’s always messing w seemingly random combos of ppl

until one day, a confession comes in for him

def one of those boys who ‘reforms’ after he meets his s/o but is a loving menace nonetheless

Originally posted by jae-min

gif creds: @jae-min​ 

microbiology major on the pre-med track with a minor in visual art

has tried dropping the pre-med track at least 4 times but absolutely will not bc he gets too much fomo

also wants a job. with guaranteed 401k compensation and benefits. so.

is one of the less toxic pre-med kids but only because he’s so close to dropping out that he just can’t seem to take or give a shit anymore

lives in a perpetual state of caffeine high bc he will be damned if jeno gets better grades than him

lowkey, i feel like he’s one of those guys who only goes to parties to find ppl to fuck

like he doesn’t rlly like to drink or smoke (although he will take the occasional eddie)

but mans is stressed from the constant personality clash (within himself) so he literally jackhammers his stress away

too crude? sorry.

was once upon a time in every single club known to mankind

dropped out of almost all of them when he made the friends he wanted to make

somehow always ends up having to pay when everyone goes out

doesn’t tell anyone that he always loses on purpose (unless it’s to chenle) bc he knows that college is tough and not everyone has the same financial freedom as he does

exclusively studies at the school library bc he doesn’t rlly spend time w his friends outside of his main friend group unless its while he’s studying or at a party

although he’s not rlly studying bc he probably already got the notes and answers from the people who took the class a semester earlier than him

but again, he’s got a competitive streak about his grades so studies anyway

which is where he meets his s/o bc they’re always sitting in the same spot, looking stressed as fuck as they study

one time, jaemin and the other person are the only two ppl left studying post 3 am during hell week and he offers to buy them coffee

studies w his lovely s/o from then onwards and offers to bite donghyuck whenever he tries to disturb them <3

Originally posted by istjun

gif creds: @istjun​

marketing major i’m so sorry

he’s just such a finance bro + business major but he hates finance so he goes into marketing instead

school is a fucking joke to him

he’ll try hard enough to get by in his classes (and bc just being around poor stressed out jisung gives him motivation to study) but no more and no less than that

the first one to call it quits when they’re all studying together but renjun practically tapes him to a chair

also surprisingly intuitive and good at marketing so even if he barely tries, professors love him and somehow make him pass anyway

knows every international kid on campus bc he gets what it’s like and makes an effort to make them feel more at home

gets invited to every party that the international kids throw and never looks at a frat ever again

they go so fucking hard at those parties that chenle, THE business major, gets tired and has to turn in pre-2 am to avoid alcohol poisoning

doesn’t get home until 7 pm the next day bc a) he’s hungover and b) they love him so much and force him to stay so he just bums at their place until he’s good to go

will make fun of you and your bad decisions (even if they aren’t that bad) but will protect you at every turn if anyone else tries to say smth

will fucking go to bat for ppl he doesn’t even know that well bc chenle hates mean ppl

is on the intramural basketball team w a couple other guys

is very popular on the team bc he always knows the best restaurants and has been known to pay when he knows someone’s a tight spot

is very lowkey abt his wealth bc ppl like to take advantage of it so the ppl he does choose to help out are also very lowkey abt it

the type of dude to spot you like $50 and won’t ask you abt it

but ppl always pay him back whenever they can bc they know he’s helping a lot of ppl in rough situations, even if he’s very hush hush abt it

is the reason why jisung joins a frat and singlehandedly boosts his rizz by a decameter

probably has a childhood sweetheart that lives at home so he doesn’t partake in the romance scene on campus at all

is in love with them and will boast abt being taken

Originally posted by fool4nct

gif creds: @fool4nct​

a dance major

impractical? maybe. but the world’s going to shit anyway so might as well do what you want, right?

that’s what chenle says to jisung the day that he’s applying to his top school

is literally the student that the school begs to have join

offered every single scholarship under the sun to have him join bc such raw talent is rare nowadays and he’s just stuck like 😟😟😟

bc he had no idea that he would get in, much less have them like him so much

but for all his talent, he’s always fucking stressed abt something

sometimes it’ll be about a choreo and other times it’ll be abt the fact that he’s almost 98% sure he won’t get a job after college but his friends always get him out of his head

has abt 6 friends on campus (total) and it’s bc of chenle

so after freshman year, he decides to get out of his shell a little bit

and jisung park is the MAN to be around when he does

he’s charismatic, tall, an amazing performer, and really, just such a suave guy that straight men kinda have that weird jealousy where he’s so cool ppl wanna be friends w him and also hate him

still gets insecure abt his skills or his future but has ppl around him who love him and help him out of it every time

i’m ngl i think that he singlehandedly makes the dance team tryout numbers go from 12 - 15 ppl to 50 - 60 ppl

dance is his entire life and when he’s not rizzing up ppl (or honestly, getting rizzed up by them; he can’t flirt for shit when he rlly wants to) he’s on the dance floor

donghyuck has had to physically rip him off the floor to get dinner after a particularly rough night

even his fave dance teacher revoked his after class dance room privileges bc ppl got worried abt how much time he spent in there

decides to take a break when he realizes just how empty his days are w/o dance

gets into music production and has worked w mark more than once under pseudonyms

won’t say anything but listens to what everyone says abt the song when mark plays it at a party

still working on himself so a s/o isn’t rlly in the picture but ppl are not mad abt it bc he’s a good time with or w/o commitment

[bug-bites]

west side apartment, paper plane

tw: brief non-graphic mentions of ghost going thru war stuff and ghost's backstory in the comics (changed a few details because this is fanfic. duh), slight angst (bc yk,, yearning) but sort of fluff if ghost had a dollar for every moment he spent yearning he would have enough money to retire and live a happy life away from the military, also we're pretending british chinese takeout is good, not proofread :P

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader (like always can be read as platonic or romantic)

characters: simon "ghost" riley

a/n: i hate how fucking massive the song link is but yk what its fine. but i am back and in a laufey moment!

simon has lived an interesting life, maybe he wouldn’t use interesting. if he could describe it he would probably use words like terrifying, cruel, or for a lack of better terms, shitty. from the moment he was born it seemed like misery and tragedy followed him around like a stray dog, finding its way into every aspect of his existence. his childhood home was always something he wanted to escape, or rather his father was what he wanted to run away from. there were good moments after he kicked the old bastard out, but the ever present threat of tragedy proved that it wouldn’t last. life had been cruel, dealing him possibly the worst hand possible, the only constant being misfortune, that is until you came along.

a temporary living arrangement. thats all it was. rent was a little too much for one person to afford, so you both signed the lease on a crummy, small, mixed-use apartment right in the middle of manchester. it wasn’t much, takeout dinners from the restaurant below and late rent payments were the norm but even with the busted heating, life in that apartment had never felt so warm.

after long shifts at your respective jobs he would come home, plastic bags of takeout in his hands, a sign for you to set a few blankets on the ground before both of you eat ungodly amounts of shrimp fried rice and orange sesame chicken. he could spend hours listening to you speak, nothing made him feel so at home. maybe it was the fact that the food was good and also inexpensive, or maybe it was because he was too exhausted to do anything else, but he loved those long sleepless nights spent sitting on the floor, talking about everything and nothing. simon cant imagine another time in his life when he was genuinely so happy or another time he laughed so hard water came out his nose.

he especially loved opening fortune cookies with you at the end of every meal. sure, he never believed in those fortunes but the idea was always fun to entertain. the sound of the cookie cracking open to expose the slip of paper, revealing what the future had in store for him usually filled him with a childlike curiosity. or at least got a laugh out of him.

“hah, mine says ‘there will be a happy romance for you shortly’. these things really could not be farther from the truth. bet yours is more accurate” you say, popping half of the broken cookie into your mouth “your father loves you and is always with you. remember that.” he reads out loud with a chuckle “oh. that- hm. yeah i take that back”

but the one thing he loved more than opening those silly fortunes with you or the late night dinners was after you both cleaned up the empty takeout boxes, taking the menus and folding them into paper planes. it became a sort of tradition after you got bored and began to mess around with the glossy paper that listed mouthwatering dishes and house specials. he could never get it right, one wing was always too big or his folds were clumsily made and uneven, making them practically incapable of flight but yours were the complete opposite. each crease made was perfect, every intricate pleat skillfully crafted to allow the small paper aircraft to glide through the air with ease. as you tossed your planes off the balcony of your shared flat, the sight of the plane sailing through the air as the sun set always filled the both of you with a sense of nostalgia. and of course you both picked them up and tossed them out because we dont mess w/ littering over here

simon cant help but look back at those simpler times and miss them. he knows from the start it was intended to be temporary, but he’s been through so much chaos and trauma all he just wants a quiet life where he doesnt have to be ghost. he just wants a nice warm home to come back to. it doesnt have to be big, it doesnt have to be expensive, it just has to feel like home. it just has to feel like you. its been so long since the two of you parted ways but as he stares at the last paper airplane that he kept, he cant help but wonder if you feel that way too. as he lies awake in his bed at the military base he’s stationed in, he spends those nights craving that domesticity he had with you. he recalls every memory, every minute detail that made him love that cramped apartment and maybe how he loved you even more.

[breezypunk]

How do you get so much love for your Cyberpunk 2077 screenshots? I spend hours posing, setting up lights etc etc but I get 0 love. Ok, I'm definitely not a professional photographer, but 0? Teach me, plsssss.

Oh my goodness, I need to gather my thoughts for this because as someone whose struggled with this for a long time, I understand 100% how you feel right now and I just want to give you a bit of advice.

I'm not a professional either, and what I mean by struggle is that when I first came into this fandom I came in with nothing. I hardly got any notes or any recognition for my posts as well.. Granted I was on console and console users sadly don't get the love they deserve, and I think they deserve just as much love if not more from people, and that doesn't happen, it's a fact.

When I started using mods and got on PC, I still barely got anything, and it started becoming a struggle for me because I fed off of validation and approval from others, and that is something I still struggle with to this day, maybe not as much, but I def still do and I think most people in this fandom do. No one can say they don't crave validation, we ALL do, if we didn't we would post n o t h i n g. And while I do agree that we should post for ourselves, we also post because when we do something we are super proud of, we want others to see it and enjoy it as well and there's NOTHING wrong with that at all. We reblog our things multiple times to push it out so other's can see (and because the algorithm truly sucks, just my opinion).

I was desperate for validation because I craved interaction and friendship, that's all I ever wanted, and I wanted to bond with people I have the same interests in and because of my desperate need for it I made enemies, still to this day. It only makes you feel icky on the inside when you're constantly trying to appease others, and while it's normal to want validation, it's not normal to only do it for that and that alone. I don't know who you are anon, and I cannot "teach" you, simply because what you're doing right now is good enough, not even good, it's great & regardless of how many people interact with your VP, you are good enough and you shouldn't stop, because if you love it that's the #1 most important thing. But also don't be afraid to reblog your stuff! Reblog it as often as you like.

Also, P.S.. I am still not always proud of what I do. I still get a little envious, it's human nature, I'm on a shitty laptop with horrible graphics and I can't do much with it, but I love taking VP, it's a passion and I will do it no matter how it looks. You should do it too, the best part of doing it is doing it because you enjoy it with no regrets. Sometimes this fandom will make you feel like you have to be the very best or at the very top for people to interact with you or enjoy your VP/art, and sometimes that's true, mostly it's true... but there are still good people here who genuinely appreciate all forms of VP, whether it's console, modding, gorgeous lighting, no lighting at all, etc. It's all beautiful, and at the end of the day, that validation is gonna come and go anyway. But you will continue to look at your art and go "yeaaaaah, I did that :)"

So please don't feel upset for getting "0" love, cos I promise someone loves it.

[slimybeth69]

Such Small Hands: Part 6- The End

unbeta'ed, cross posted from my ao3.

mean/dark!joelxreader (no physical descriptions girthy age gap--no actual age mentioned but reader could be in her mid twenties- early thirties, no use of y/n. No physical descriptions but reader has an extensive background. Canon to the last 3 episodes of the series.) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of potential SA, graphic depictions of blood, reader brings up her past and shitty family (if it ain't for you, sorry). This takes place after the events of Crybaby With as much smut as this has, this is an angsty fic and it's building bonds and falling in love (maybe). And Ellie!! Little Baby Ellie is in this one!

Chapter Warnings: There's no smut in this one- so much gore and violence and murder. SO MUCH.

Chapter 6- Space (The End)

Chapter List

Waking up in a new room every day is fucking disorienting. People are talking though, frantically, you hear voices and must know what they’re saying because Joel sounds angry and someone keeps saying Ellie’s name but you don’t know this new voice. A woman's voice. Your eyes snap open and you sit up. All of your blood drains from your brain and you feel lightheaded.

“Oh, she’s awake.” The new voice says. Everything is spinning and you need to lay back down and close your eyes. “Maybe not.” 

“Hey.” Joel’s voice is in your ear now. “Wake up right now. Get up. Wake up.” He’s the frantic one. His voice sends a jolt through you and you sit up quickly again, bashing your head right into Joel’s.

You see stars immediately and tears come to your eyes. Why does this stuff happen to you? Why are you the one getting hurt all of the time? So much hurt! Stabbed and now this! Okay... Joel was also stabbed and Ellie was almost sexually assaulted and who knows what else when that man David captured her. You've all been getting hurt but you are being dramatic. Your face hurts now. This time you took Joel down with you. Caused his pain now.

“Oh—fucking hell,” You lay back down as Joel groans and holds his forehead, taking a stumbled step back from you. “Oh God.” You whine. Your forehead and nose hurt the worst. “What happened?” You groan, and now, slowly you lean forward. Joel rubs his forehead softly and looks at the woman in the doorway. 

“And you two made it across the country together? Interesting.” She doesn’t look very impressed with you. She can suck your dick; who is she looking at like that? Absolutely not you. You don't like this woman already. She is a bitch. For why? What did you guys ever do to her? You two just bashed your own two heads together and left her out of the whole thing! Joel turns to you and holds you by the shoulders. 

“You were fucking right.” It’s whispered, almost mouthed to you. Joel looks so scared. You’ve never seen him look frightened before. Your eyes try to tell him you don’t know what he means; without words. Joel pleads with his eyes in silent desperation to you to try and understand him. He cannot tell you in front of this woman, for whatever reason what he wants to tell you. You look around and you realize what kind of room your in. You see a door and a big window in the wall that you can see a hallway out of. There are two beds with railings on them in this room. A window to the outside.

“Are we in a hospital?” Your head flicks to the woman in the doorway and she nods, unenthused by your question. It hits you now, what Joel means. This cannot be happening. Absolutely not. You were so ready to have Joel and Ellie laughing at you when the doctors injected you with a cure. That was something you dreamed of at night. Dreamed of it and then the three of you would go wherever you wanted. Anywhere. You would raise Ellie like she was your own. Joel would give you a baby to carry and would propose to you with a simple ring because you like simple things now. You appreciate games of Sorry! near the fireplace. You cherish the girl who makes you laugh when you brush her hair at night and braid it out of her face for her. That was supposed to be your future. Not this! Not this bullshit. You’re off the bed and standing beside him before your brain can finish piecing everything together. 

“Where is she?” You look up to Joel and away from the woman. 

“Getting prepped for surgery.” He sounds angry. Extremely angry now; you've never heard him like this before. It makes you shiver. Joel goes from looking at you back to the woman.

“Can we see her?” You turn now to the woman and she rolls her eyes. What the fuck is she rolling her eyes for!? Does she need a lesson in manners? 

“I just explained it all to Joel." The way she says this makes you uneasy. You feel like they may know each other. You don't know. She is a stranger to you. She speaks again now, slowly to you like someone may speak to an angry rabid animal they stumble upon in the woods. "We didn’t tell her. We didn’t cause her any fear. She won’t be in any pain.” The woman explains. You missed the introduction part of this conversation, apparently so now she’s just the woman to you. 

“Tell her what? Pain? Fear?” All the terrible thoughts you had of what was going to happen in this hospital are coming true right now. “You’re going to kill her.” It comes out shaky, like you cannot believe it. You can’t. Even though you knew this was going to fucking happen. “Find someone else.” You growl at her. You’d punch her right the fuck now if you didn’t think she’d shoot you first. “Find. Someone. Else.” It’s snarled through gritted teeth. 

“I just told Joel there is no one else.” She shouts at you. Who the hell is she yelling at! Not you. You start to shout back at her but Joel bellows over you.

“Take me to her right now!” Joel takes a step towards her. One of the guards standing to the right of the woman comes forward to meet Joel with a fist right into his lower stomach, dropping him to his knees. You fall to your knees beside him. What the fuck is going on? Everything in you is shaking. You feel like the vibrator you stole from the mall once when you were fifteen. Thats what your whole body feels like. A vibrator on the highest speed. And you're sweating. None of this is pleasurable like that had been though, no. You could sob now at the regret you have for not making them go back to Jackson. For not pushing your worries harder. You feel so stupid. So foolish. You and Joel were just two fucking normal people! What were you going to do against a hospital full of fucking Fireflies?

“Please. Y-you don’t understand.” Joel mumbles from the floor. You have your hand on his back and one on his shoulder trying to get him to sit up straight, get off his hands. You need him off the floor. Desperate hands search for a place to grab on to so that you can pull him to his feet. He's so heavy though.

“I was there when she was born, Joel. I promised her mother I would save her child. I understand. I’m the only-” The words the woman speaks enrage you. How dare she? The anger brings you to your feet and you take a step towards her, with your arm cocked back because now you were going to fucking deck her one. You connect directly with her mouth and it feels fucking amazing. Her teeth scrape along the soft flesh of your knuckles and slice you open. You can feel one of her bottom teeth give against your fist and you follow through with everything you got inside of you. She goes backward against the wall behind her. 

You’re met with the same fist Joel was well acquainted with in the same place. Lower stomach, right above your mound. The man almost just punched you right in the pussy. Jesus Christ. It brings you to your knees now, from pain and not sympathy for Joel and you’re grimacing. It doesn’t knock the wind out of you, but you feel like your uterus might fall out of your vagina. You hold your stomach and now Joel is the one on his feet going after the guard who hit you. 

“Enough!” The woman who you assume now is Marlene from what she said about the child. She’s the one who told Ellie to come here, took care of her. You hate Marlene. How could she do this? A girl she raised herself, sent off to die? At her command? And she knew the whole time?  “I don’t have a choice, Joel.” Marlene looks at Joel as she wipes the blood from her mouth. She sees it on the back of her hand and scoffs at you. “Good shot. I’ll give you that.” 

“I have a choice, Marlene,” Joel murmurs, and then it’s quiet for so long. Marlene stares at the two of you. 

“Walk ’em both to the highway and leave him with their packs. Give him this.” She holds out one large hunting knife to guard who hit you. “If they try anything…shoot them both.” Marlene stares at you now. “Shoot her anyway once you’re out there.” 

“Fuck you.” You snap at her. You spit at her like Joel taught you how to do. “You’re a fucking joke.” You whisper to her as the guards push you out of the room. They shove you hard. You stumble forward a couple of steps. 

“Shut the fuck up and keep walking.” One of them says from behind you, pressing a gun into the small of your back. You and Joel walk side by side. His hand brushes against your gently and lingers there. His pinky wraps around yours for merely a moment before you’re being pushed forward again. “Knock it off. Keep moving.” 

Now you’re two steps ahead of Joel and the guard behind you is walking beside him. You chuckle to yourself because you think that maybe the guard is jealous that Joel wants to hold your hand and not his. That’s why he took your spot. Now you’re going to die. Ellie is going to die and Joel is probably going to try and shoot himself again once you’re both gone. The thought of it all makes you feel like you are about to be sick. 

“Who told you to stop?” The guard from behind Joel says a couple of feet behind you. You turn to look and see Joel stopped dead in the center of the hallway and now you stopped too but got the barrel of a rifle pressed against your spine. 

“You definitely shouldn’t be stopping. You have an appointment you’re late for.” The man with the gun behind you chuckles like he’s hilarious. You surprisingly snort too because that’s a good one and you don’t know how else to cope with the fact that you’re going to die. Late for an appointment. You chuckle this time when you think about it again. True, you should have died a long time ago. You don't know how you made it this long.

“Which way?” Joel says as they lead you to the elevator and stair portion of the hallway. 

“Take the stairs.” You get pushed so violently by the man behind you that you stumble forward onto one knee. Joel rushes to you and helps you up. The guards don’t say anything as you and Joel fall back into place beside one another. Your feet feel so heavy as they take the stairs slowly. You know what’s coming once you get outside those doors and it’s starting to hit you as you descend the stairway of the hospital. You’re going to die and you can’t stop it from happening. Neither can Joel. His pinky touches yours again for a moment and then his hand is on your lower back, propelling you down the last four stairs. You fall to the ground as the gun goes off behind you. Searing hot pain in your upper left arm. It’s so hot. So hot and so painful. Holy fucking shit. Another deafening gunshot makes you jump. You look up to see Joel, with one of the guards' head under his arm and the guard with the rifle behind you dead on the stairs already. 

You look down at your arm and see it’s just a flesh wound. It grazed you thank fucking God. You don’t know if you can deal with anything else inserted inside of you that wasn't Joel or food into your mouth! Nothing else needed to be in there at all. The guard that had been behind Joel violently gets thrown down beside you. You look at him as Joel points the rifle at him.

“Where is she?” Joel growls to the man.

How the fuck did that man do that? He moved so fucking quick! You were still in the air when the guard shot at you. How did Joel get the other guy's gun so quickly? You don’t know, Joel has already shot him in the head after he told Joel to fuck off. 

“Sorry for pushing you, are you okay?” Joel inspects the bloody gash on your arm. You nod and take the pistol he’s handing you. He keeps the rifle close to him as a voice rings out over a walkie talkie. 

“Shots fired. Shots fired.” 

“We have to go. Come on.” Joel grabs your hand. And leads you frantically down the stairs. You pull your hand from his and  try to start back up where you came from. 

“Joel, I can't leave her here.” You're trying to climb over the dead body on the stairs, grabbing for his rifle now because why leave it there? You’ll blast your way to Ellie with this thing. Joel is reaching for you through the railing, trying to stop you. It makes no sense that you two would go all this way to leave her here after everything. It makes you mad at Joel. 

“She isn’t up there. Surgery is down this way. Come on.” Joel is urging you, he sounds so afraid, pulling at your hands with his desperately. “Please. Trust me.” You do, you trust him so much now that he’s going to rescue her. You’ll kill every single one of these Firefly fucks that gets in your way. You put the pistol in the waistband of your jeans and hold the rifle close to your chest as you walk down the stairs slowly with Joel. 

Someone is moving behind frosted glass. You and Joel both raise your rifle but you aim and fire first. The window shatters and the man falls to the ground on the other side of the wall. Joel nods at you silently once and then you guys keep moving. Rifles held to both of your guys’ cheeks. Once you walk through the doorway Joel checks to make sure the man is dead. He is. 

Joel takes one step in front of you, as he leads you through the hallways. It doesn’t seem like he knows where he’s going but you follow him anyway, your rifle now aimed down at the ground because he’s in front of you. A bullet whizzes past your ear, you think you can feel the wind coming off of it. Joel ducks behind one wall and you dive down to the ground, on the other side of the hallway down behind a piece of machinery. It doesn’t do much to cover you and the person who had shot at you originally opens fire. You look up to Joel who is peeking around the wall and then he opens return and cover fire to you but he's out of ammo and needs to reload.

Now it feels like you are going to die again. You had some hope in the three minutes you had been walking. The bullets whiz past you and embed themselves into the wall and the floor around you. The machine you’re behind rolls closer and closer to you with each bullet it takes; those bullets are meant for you. There is a feeling of extreme pressure behind your ear. It feels like you just got punched in the side of the head. You fall over because it hit you so damn hard. Your cheek hits the floor and you're stunned. The room is spinning again but you’re still conscious. Your hand comes to your neck and it’s so wet. So warm. You pull your hand away and it’s bright red. 

When did you touch red paint? This is the first thought that comes to your mind because you didn’t just get shot in the neck. You’d be dead already? Right? Something hard is embedded into what feels like your skull just behind your ear, almost to your neck. It hurts when you pull it out to look at it. You don’t know what it is. It’s not a bullet. 

More gunshots go off and you look around very confused. How did you get shot with plastic? A big piece, the size of your fist was just lodged into your skin and maybe cranium. How? You keep looking around and see that the machine you were in front of has a giant hole in it right where your head had been. That thing exploded right next to you. Something exploded. The blood is pouring out from behind your ear and now it fucking hurts. So bad. Your brain is begging you to do something about the pain but what can you do? You hold your hand to it lightly and look around but everything is still spinning. There is more gunfire now, but closer to you. You’re definitely going to die.

Joel is turning your head to the side now and trying to get you to your feet but it’s too heavy. Everything is heavy. Your head feels like it weighs ten million pounds. You let it fall forward but then a loud crack and pain in your cheek snap you awake with a gasp. 

“Did you just hit me?” You look up at Joel with wide eyes but he’s pulling you to your feet. “I got shot with a giant plastic bullet so you hit me?” Your eyes are still so wide and you might be in shock as he grabs your rifle and hands it to you. 

“Wake up.” He gives your cheek another soft tap. “C’mon. Come back to me.” Joel shakes your shoulders. “It’s a puncture wound. You’re okay. Put some pressure on it. We have to keep moving. Joel grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you away from the spot you’re standing in. 

A puncture wound? Is that not what bullets did? Did bullets not puncture you? Why are you guys running? Why are you holding this rifle? Where is Ellie? What is going on? Why does Joel look so worried? 

The answers to those come to your now concussed brain as you and Joel continue to move through the hospital. Now it’s just Joel shooting. You have one hand holding the open wound behind your ear gently and the rifle is just slumped to your side. You simply want to sit. You want to sit so badly. Close your eyes. You’re so damn tired. Joel takes a step into a new hallway and more bullets rip right past your face. Joel puts a flat palm on your chest and pushes you back behind the wall you just walked out from around. He shoots around the corner and then reaches back for you to make sure you’re still there. 

Joel grabs your shirt by the neck and drags your shuffling body behind him for a moment so you’re close and then lets go to steady the rifle at his cheek. You follow Joel into a room where there's a man surrendering. He drops his gun on the ground and you grab it for Joel since it’s the only thing you’re good for right now. You expect Joel to let him go. Maybe tie him up. You don’t think this is the man who shot at you just now, you had seen the body when you walked past draped over the nurses station. This man was standing with his hands up. Joel shot him dead anyway. 

It feels like an hour of Joel shooting at people; ripping your rifle from your hands and tossing his spent one to the floor. He does that so many times. Shoots someone and takes their guns.

You take a bullet right to the outside of the thigh. How is Joel not catching a single one? You’re not even the one with the gun anymore and it’s like they’re ignoring Joel and shooting right at you. It’s an excruciating, tearing pain. This one is deep. Serious even. It drops you to your knees and you’re howling in pain. 

“I know it hurts. I know, little bird. ” He coos to you rapidly checking over his shoulder as he tries to comfort you. “You’re gonna be okay though. It didn’t hit— anything serious.” He has to look over his shoulder again as you writhe in pain on the floor below him. 

“Go without me.” You groan. “I can’t do this anymore.” You’re holding onto your thigh for dear life. You're holding onto your leg and you can feel the bullet embedded inside it. You are screaming in pain this is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. “Just shoot me, Joel.” It’s hissed through clenched teeth as Joel yanks you to your feet. You scream again and try to hold yourself against the wall. “Just let me die.” You sob loudly. “Everything hurts too much.” It feels like you’re being tortured. This is what that has to feel like, right? 

“Our girl is right through this door. Ellie is so close. Please don’t give up now, birdie. I still gotta be gentle with you. Let's go, please. Little bird, please come on.” Joel is putting your arm around his neck and begging you to find some sort of strength inside of you. You can put little to no weight on the leg you were just shot in. You are falling as Joel tries to carry you. It’s so hard. So hard to do anything. Everything hurts so fucking bad.

Ellie was right inside the door. You could see her through the window of the scrub-in-room you and Joel entered. You got a rush of adrenaline when you saw her. It was like your body rejuvenated even though you were undoubtedly still falling apart. You hold yourself up on the sink and look up at him. He looks down at you, covered in blood, and kisses your forehead softly. 

“Go kill them. Please. Get our girl back.” You’re panting and out of breath and you watch him walk into the operating room. You stay where you are, watching through the window. 

How did you get here? Just over a month ago, you were getting railed every four days in the woods. You had been with them so much longer than you thought. It felt like a week but a month had gone by. You had traveled from Jackson Wyoming to Salt Lake City Utah in just over a month. Where did the time go? Talking to Ellie by the fire. Laying beside Joel at night; growing to love them slowly. A gunshot brings you back and now the doctor is lying on the ground. You watch as he orders the nurses to do something. They scramble and unhook her from all the machines. They taped up the bleeding spot on Ellie's arm where the IV had been. 

Then Joel makes them turn around and you lean in because you want him to kill them. You want them to die for what they were about to do to that little precious, foul mouthed girl. Fuck them. Joel doesn’t though. He lifts Ellie into his arms and carries her like the baby she is, out of the room. 

You meet him at the door and pull the pistol out of your pants. 

“If you won’t fuckin' do it, I will.” You push past them, hobbling on your torn-apart body. “Turn around.” You point the gun in their direction. They turn slowly. It’s two women. You chuckle softly and wonder if this is why Joel didn’t do it. They’re crying. “Would you have given up your baby?” You’re exhausted. You sound exhausted. Joel is watching you from where you had been standing, watching him. The women say nothing. “Would you… have given up… your baby?” You ask again, slower and with more oomph so they know you’re not fucking around today, You have a bullet stuck in your thigh, a hole in your neck, and gash on your arm. You’re hungry. You got fucked in the throat this morning. You desperately need a nap. You were not the one to mess with today

The women in front of you look at each other now and then back to you. 

“I don’t have any kids.” The one on the right says quietly. You nod at her. 

“Would you. Have given up. Your baby? Answer the fucking question.” You stare at them. 

“I would have. If it meant savi–” You don’t let the nurse on the left finish before you aim and shoot her between the eyes. The nurse on the right screams and closes her eyes as you walk closer. 

“Would you. Have giv–” She doesn’t let you finish as you limp and stumble up to her. 

“No—no no no no. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have given up my baby. I wouldn’t have been able to.” She stutters and chokes it out as you press the gun to her forehead. You shake your head at her. 

“So why would you do it to someone else’s baby?” You ask her, you’re distraught and crying now. “Why would you do it to someone else’s baby!?” You shout at her. 

“The— they— t-t-told us she d-d-d-didn’t have any f-f-family!” She cries out through sobs. 

“So it’s alright to just execute a child like that?!” You scream it at her and spit comes out of your mouth and you think you might pass out because holy shit your neck fucking hurt when you did that. “Whoever told you that lied to you.” You have to touch your neck and you’re bleeding again. You screamed the blood right out of you. “She has a family.” It’s sighed out as you shoot her in the head. “Fuck the Fireflies.” 

“I can’t help you down there.” Joel has pain in his eyes and voice when he says it to you, taking your pistol. You wave your hand at him and hobble the best you can as he leads you out of the hospital. “A hospital and they don’t have any crutches.” Joel tries to lighten the mood but you barely hear him over the blinding, screaming pain that is inside of you. You’re holding on to walls and machinery— literally, anything that will support some of your weight. Getting stabbed is bad. This is way worse. So much worse. The bullet was still in there! You can feel it with every step. Who was gonna take it out? You guys just killed all the doctors. You should have made them take this Godforsaken bullet out of your leg first. Jesus Christ. Things are starting to get a little fuzzy again. A little gray looking. 

“Oh my God,” You sigh as you get on the elevator. You were thinking about the stairs. Had been thinking about them since the minute the bullet went into your leg. Joel would have had to leave Ellie on the cold cement while he came up to carry you down. Not now though as you rode the elevator comfortably to the garage. The doors open and Joel steps out. Where is he going? Your eyes had been closed for just a second and now he’s on the move again.

“C’mon birdie. This way.” He turns to the right. You step out of the elevator gingerly.

“A car? A real life car?” You are sleepily shocked when you see it. Hooked up to a generator or something. “Are we going to take it?” You sound as excited as you can in your bleeding-out state at the thought of not having to walk. 

“You can’t keep her safe forever.” Fuck! You fucking hate Marlene. You point your pistol at her as you turn. She’s pointing her’s to Joel. 

“Drop it.” You growl at her, your heart should be pounding but it feels like it’s barely moving. You’re a little dizzy. You stay planted on your two busted up legs the best you can. She looks at you and sighs. 

“You didn't die? Son-of-a-bitch. I really hoped they would get you. I told them to aim for you.” She grumbles and turns back to Joel. She can suuuuuuuck your dick. Suck it. Gag on it Marlene. Joel showed you a few tricks you could use. Fucking Marlene. 

“Come lick my asshole.” You sneer at her, teetering to one side before righting yourself. You have to work very hard to keep your head up. You should have put a tourniquet on your leg but you were not thinking clearly. Neither of you had been. You never applied pressure to the wound on your neck. Just held your hand against in shock wondering how the machine shot a giant plastic bullet into your neck at a high enough speed to send you right onto your side as someone had pushed you over. The physics of it still baffles your concussed and blood-starved brain. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

“That’s his job.” She nods to Joel who is putting Ellie in the car. You slowly stumble your way over to him, still pointing the gun at Marlene. “No matter how many people you kill, Joel, no matter how hard you try to keep her little she’s going to grow up. In a broken world that you could have saved.” Marlene sounds like she might be crying. You don’t care. You hope she is crying. Idiot. 

“Maybe,” Joel says softly as he buckles her into the backseat. She’s still unconscious. Joel turns now and points the rifle at Marlene and motions for you to get in the car. You never take your gun off of her. “It’s not for you to decide.” Joel also sounds like he might cry. You haven’t stopped crying. 

“Or you. What would she have decided?” Marlene asks. You snort. 

“What would you have done at fourteen years old? Asked to die,  to see if it’s possible? ” You ask Marlene through the open door. It feels so good to sit down but now you’ve expelled the last of your energy talking and need to lie down. You have to lie down so badly. So so bad. 

“It’s not too late. Even after all you’ve done. We can still fix this.” Marlene ignores you and looks at Joel.

“No. I’m taking her. Both of them. All of us. We’re leaving.”

“Turns out there are a bunch more people out there. Immune, like you.” Joel’s voice sounds like it ten billion miles away. “They did a bunch of tests and they… they’ve stopped looking for a cure.” He lies in space. Lies from somewhere your eyes can’t see him.

“Where are my clothes?” A tiny voice from just as far away as Joel’s speaks now. 

“Raiders attacked the hospital. I barely got you two out alive.” Joel’s country gravel road voice is closer, a little. 

“Is she okay?” It’s Ellie! Ellie’s little girl voice is close to you now too. Who are they speaking about?

“I don’t know.” Joel sounds so scared in space. “She’s lost and is still losing a lot of blood. I had to get us out of there though.”

“Is she going to make it?” Her little voice sounds so scared now too. 

“I don’t know.” More scared Joel voice that makes you scared now too in the darkness of space. 

“Were a lot of people hurt?” Ellie asks but there is no response to her in the darkness. “Is Marlene okay?” 

“I’m taking us home. All of us.” Joel says.

Then it’s quiet again.

Thanks for reading!

The next part to this series is called Venus in Furs and it's... a dark and wild and twisted fucking ride.

I can't wait to share it with you all.

[colorfulbard]

The Great Escape Artist

Summary♡ Your very brilliant plan goes wrong after being captured by the Marines.

Pairing♡ Buggy x Reader

Warning♡ Brief descriptions of torture and blood, but nothing super graphic. Lightly suggestive NSFW

A/N♡ Ever since I saw the posts about LA!Buggy with a Harley Quinn inspired reader I haven't been able to get out of my head. This fanfic is fully based off this scene from suicide squad, "Harley's Great Escape scene". This is written with LA! Buggy in mind, but you can still read it as Anime Buggy too.

w/c♡ 3.8k

This was the first time in your life that your mind had been quiet enough to let you think for an extended period of time. Which felt depressing, so, you pushed that to the back of your mind. There were more important things at the forefront of it. Like, for example, despite having been tortured for about an hour or so, this wasn't the worst day of your life. You knew what day that was.

That horrible day had caused you to be saddled with a 25-million berry bounty. A bounty that made shitty days a common occurrence thanks to the Marines. Not a day went by where you didn't spot your bounty poster with that number, courtesy of those pesky fuckers. It felt undeserved in your opinion. The only thing you had done that day was set yourself free. It's not your fault there was collateral damage along the way.

You did, however, feel quite satisfied when you learned it was higher than Arlong's. Irregardless of that satisfying discovery, that bounty still brought nothing but trouble your way. This time trouble led to you strung up by your wrists in chains, swaying from side-to-side.

"Who sent you?" The cadet had been asking the same question over and over. You were getting sick of it.

You didn't respond, you hadn't responded since he began asking. You began to hum to yourself as a distraction. The cadet grew impatient at the sound of your humming and placed his hands over your abdomen to send waves of electricity into your body.

You grit your teeth to hold back a scream, waiting for him to finally grow tired. Who knew this branch had a cadet with devil fruit powers specifically for torture? You did now. You learned his powers were using electric shocks.

The cadet finally let up and turned away from you to seemingly take a breather. He began to fiddle with a mini transponder snail, most likely to inform the pseudo Captain of the base that no progress was made. That man was surely was going to be displeased at that. You tried not to laugh at the thought of that man throwing a temper tantrum. Typical Marine behavior.

You've never met a single Marine that was actually a good person. Not even the actual Captain was a good person despite public opinion saying otherwise. Everyone in this little town said he was the best Captain they've ever had. Hardworking, responsible, and a loving husband.

Too bad that last trait was a lie.

That was something you found out the hard way. There were rumors going around that this specific branch had maps to the grandline. Which is what your beloved Captain was desperately searching for. You couldn't blame him for your plan going sideways. He didn't even know you were here.

Your Captain had his own stupid plan, which you said was brilliant (a lie), and you came up with your own. It was full proof. You'd done stuff like this a million times before.

You had put on your best dress, your favorite; a gorgeous red dress gifted to you by your Captain. You put makeup on to cover up your most recognizable features. Then, found the Marine Captain's favorite bar. From there, it was simple, you seduced him, and allowed him to take you back to the base to get the information you needed. It was going great, but then it all went to hell when he recognized you.

He had placed a hand on your cheek and accidently wiped some of the makeup off, revealing what was underneath.

Thankfully, you found out everything you needed before you put the bullet through his skull.

Everything was still going okay, until his damn wife showed up just after you killed him. She screamed at the top of her lungs at the sight of him. That was the moment you found out the pig was actually married. You compared the teary face to the one in a picture on his desk. Sweet picture, they were gazing into each others eyes, holding hands. He was wearing a fancy tux and she, in a beautiful white dress.

Their wedding day.

You were almost jealous till you remembered he was intent on cheating had you not stopped him. They were probably living a nice, calm life. Maybe they were happy (despite attempted infidelity) and thinking about starting a little family.

You let your eyes linger on that loving photograph for too long, which is how you got caught in the first place.

You were thinking too much whilst staring at it. Until a whole squadron showed up with rifles drawn and pointed at you. They, obviously, recognized your poster thanks to the makeup being smeared.

From there, the pseudo Captain took over and ordered to have captured to get information. That damn Captain was surprisingly cruel despite not bothering to get his own hands dirty.

He ordered to have you tortured till the end of the next day. If you died before then you'd just be sent back to your Captain, in pieces. If you had put in your own two cents, which you did just before he left, you said it was unoriginal, uninspired. Nothing flashy about that, as your dear Captain would say.

You'd received your first shock of many after saying that.

You twitched at the feeling of blood dripping from your nose, reminding you of your current situation. If that cadet succeeded in contacting that Captain you were screwed. Which meant it was time for your great escape.

With the cadet turned away and distracted, you took the opportunity to lift your head from its downturn position and glare into the back of his head. You gripped the chains and used them to slowly lift yourself up. When you were high enough that your legs reached his neck you swung yourself forward to wrap your thighs around his neck. You squeezed as tight as you could and lifted yourself higher to make sure he couldn't try stomping his feet on the ground.

He was digging his fingers into your thighs, clearly trying to use his powers, but it wouldn't work. They were useless now thanks to the sea prism jewelry you had on your ankle. It was the one gift you had kept from your old life. The one thing that bastard gave you that was actually useful.

The cadet was finally losing his strength and went completely limp. That's when you finally snapped his neck and let go. His body fell to the ground and you spotted a key on his hip. You smiled and slowly tiptoed your way up his body to grip the key with your toes.

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself to rely on your upper body strength again. You bent your body forward so your feet could reach the lock on your wrists. You groaned at the pain coming from your abdomen, the pain from the shocks didn't help. You'd like to think that your Captain would be proud if he could see you. That acrobatic training paid off.

You sighed in relief when your aching wrists were finally free and let go of the chains. You dropped down on your hands and knees, and took a few deep breaths. You assessed the damage on your body when you stood. Your thighs had red marks on them and your beloved dress was ripped up the side. Your abdomen was also horrendously sore.

You growled and eyed the pistol at the cadets hip. You smirked and pointed it at his head. Even if he was dead, snapping his neck wasn't good enough for you. You shot him in the face and reveled at the blood splatter it created.

"That's for my dress, fucker," you spat as you stepped over him.

Before opening the door leading out, you grabbed a pair of boots for your bare feet (they took your shoes, pervs) and cracked your neck to alleviate the ache there.

On the other side of the door, two Marines were at attention. They appeared suspicious because of the gunshot from the other side. Especially since their "Captain" gave no such orders to do so.

It was too bad they wouldn't be able to warn anyone, but then again, the two consecutive shots that rang out would be signal enough. You grabbed another pistol off them to prepare for the eventual onslaught of Marines that were surely on their way.

You kicked open the next door that hopefully led to an exit, only to find a circular room with multiple pathways leading who knows where. You didn't even have time to think about which one to take before they all started running in, like rats who spotted the cheese. They were coming from all sides, it kept you on your toes, literally. You were twirling around the room firing shot after shot on the tips of your toes.

Even if there was a risk of death, you had to admit, it was fun. It felt like you were dancing with the way your skirt spread out around you.

When the last two cadets finally fell, your fun was over and the pistols clicked. You dropped them to the ground, deeming them useless and ran down the path with the most dead marines. You kicked open another door and found what you assumed was the armory, based on the walls full of weapons.

Fancy iron gates separated you from the mass array of weapons they had, so, you had to get creative. You headbutted one charging at you and kicked a gate closed on two others trying to open from the other side. Geez, these guys were like a damn hydra. Take one out and two more take its place. They never stopped.

The next one tried stabbing you with a knife, a nice change of pace, but useless. You looked down forlornly at your dress and, with a heavy sigh, ripped off a long piece of it. You wrapped it around the wrist of the knife wielder and maneuvered yourself around him. You were back to back with him and with all your strength, you flipped him over you onto another Marine running in. Both of them grunted and fell to the floor.

Another came charging at you and you ran to the other side of the now open iron gate to slam into the Marines face. He groaned in pain with a fierce glare and thrust his arm through the opening to attempt to stab you, big mistake. You grabbed his wrist and crushed it on the gate causing him to scream and drop the knife. He had no time to recover because you began to repeatedly strike his face into the ornate design covering the sides of the gate.

Yes, it was bloody mess and unnecessary, but it was way more fun than using a pistol.

You cheered when he fell to the ground and turned back to your possible exit to see another blocking your way. You rolled your eyes, just how many soldiers did they have wandering around?

As you stalked towards him, he flinched with a knife in hand. You hummed with a chuckle, at least someone here finally had the decency to fear you. It wouldn't save him from your wrath anyway.

Despite the fear in his eyes he lunged at you. You grabbed his wrist and bent it back into his torso in retaliation. You ears perked up at the found of footsteps right behind you and you kicked your leg back, aiming high. The first fell forward and you grabbed the knife before he fell to the ground.

The second choked and held onto his throat. "Bullseye!" You cheered at the sight. You pinned him to the gate and slit his throat.

It looked like you were down to your last one here. He was holding a knife, a popular weapon here. You dropped your own and pulled the sash taut in your hands, that was all you needed. He lunged at you and you used his own momentum against him. You wrapped the fabric around his wrist and moved yourself behind him to pin his own hand to his throat and pulled.

He slit his own throat thanks to you.

You sighed and grabbed two rifles from the ground. "How careless," you mused. You walked out of the armory and pushed open what was hopefully the last fucking door before the exit. You were now in a long hallway with double doors at the end.

Too bad a whole squadron of Marines were blocking the way, the same ones who caught you. You smirked as you watched them all begin to charge you and the captain yelling orders.

"GET HER!" He yelled.

You opened fire on all of them. They didn't even have a chance as you cackled with glee, never once letting go of the trigger. They all fell to the ground with their blood decorating the drab, white walls. And then it was down to one person. The beloved "Captain" of this Marine base. He pressed himself against a wall, gripping a small pistol in his shaking hands.

You snickered and slowly walked towards him until you were close enough to kick the pistol out of his hand. He whimpered and raised his hands up, "w-what do y-you want?" He asked, cowering under your gaze.

You knelt down to his level and raised a hand to cup his cheek. He yelped at the feeling of your cold, bloodied hand, but didn't dare push it away. He froze at the sight your eerily calm smile and clenched his eyes shut as you leaned forward. He flinched at the feeling of your cold, rough lips on his cheek. You pulled away to whisper something into his ear before leaning back and finally leaving this damn hellscape.

"Captain Buggy sends his regards."

The moment you stepped outside you breathed in the fresh air and took in your surroundings. There was still daylight outside, most likely late in the afternoon now. The brightness of the sun made it easy to spot three familiar faces sneaking around the side of the base.

Peeking around, watching the grand entrance of the base, was Mohji. He narrowed his eyes at the inactivity. "Are you sure this is it?" He asked, skeptical. He had a weird feeling about it considering it was so quiet. Not a single Marine in sight.

Cabaji, who stood next to Mohji, hummed in agreement. "He has a point, Captain. There's no one here." He pointed to the unguarded entrance.

The esteemed Captain, Buggy, rolled his eyes and pointed to the sign displaying, '149th Marine base'. "Yes, positive. It's pretty hard to fucking miss." He chocked up the missing Marines to pure luck and pulled out two knives. He took a deep breath, "Okay, get ready in three, two..."

"What are you guys doing?"

Your familiar voice appearing behind Cabaji caused him to practically jump out of his skin.

"What the-?! What the hell are you doing out here?!" He exclaimed.

Buggy ignored his outburst and blinked owlishly at the sight of you. He ran over here with Cabaji and Mohji in tow after hearing word that the Marines had finally captured 'Buggy's Beloved Harlequin'. So, to see you here, alive, was quite a confusing sight.

He glanced back at the base and then at you, he shook off the lingering confusion. "We're here to save you!" He explained, gesturing to you.

You pouted and held back tears forming. "You were gonna... Save me?" You whimpered.

Buggy groaned and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Yes, it was a really good plan too..." He trailed off, slightly disappointed it was ruined.

You frowned, "well I could go back inside and you could still do it," you suggested.

Buggy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not gonna happen, angel face." He grabbed your wrist to pull you close. He wrapped a hand around your waist and held you close to his chest.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. You sighed at the feeling of his warm hand on your cheek. You could tell his eyes were on your bloody nose. "You kill all the fuckers that did this to you?" He asked, voice low in a whisper. He looked back into your eyes and you could see the rage that filled them.

You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. It always warmed your heart when he cared for you like that. While he had his cowardly moments, he never backed down from a fight when it came to you. His anger was momentarily forgotten about until you pulled away.

Your eyes were still glued to his lips when you answered his question. "'Course I did. Every drop spilled was courtesy of Buggy, the genius jester.-" you pecked his lips- "even left one alive to tell the tale." You kissed him again and placed your hands on his cheeks so he couldn't pull away.

Buggy still managed to pull away despite that and chuckled. "Stop trying to distract me, angel. The hell were doing in there anyway?" He asked, rubbing comforting circles on your hip. Good thing he hadn't noticed your ruined dress yet.

You pulled away from him and grabbed his hand. "Let's talk about this on the ship. Reinforcements from the next town over are probably on their way." You laughed, "and I don't think they'll be happy to see the mess here." You tried to lead him away, only to be pulled back into his arms.

Cabaji and Mohji tried cutting in after successfully ignoring your loving reunion.

"She has a point, Captain-" began Mohji.

"Yeah, we should really-" continued Cabaji.

"Shut up!" Snapped Buggy, glaring at the two who cowered. His attention was back on you with an enamored expression. Buggy grabbed you by the waist. "Does that mean you-?"

You nodded, "uh-huh." You tried pulling away again, but were stuck in his tight grip. You furrowed your brows, but that tense expression melted away when you felt his soft lips on yours again. That was one feeling you would never get tired of.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt his tongue against your lips. Even though you were dying to feel more of him, you had to break the kiss to focus. You were breathless, "remember we have to go." You grabbed his hand to lead him away.

Buggy groaned and followed behind, but not before dragging you back one last time against his chest to whisper a promise in your ear. "I swear the second we get on that ship... You're mine." He nipped the shell of your ear.

You squealed and pulled away. "Then, hurry up, Captain!"

He finally allowed himself to dragged along and laughed with you. Clearly, he was ecstatic to see your gorgeous face until he spotted something peculiar. His anger rose tenfold when he finally noticed.

"What the hell happened to your dress?!"

It took time and a lot of kisses to get him to calm down about the dress when you reached the ship. You were currently sitting on his bed, fingers stroking his hair as he knelt down in front of you. He was assessing the damage. Even though the ship's doctor already had, he still wanted to check every square inch.

You shivered when his warm hands lightly trailed over the skin of your bare legs. It was easy considering you were wearing one of his shirts. You smiled at the concerned expression he had. It was easy to get him to calm down by running your hands through his beautiful hair.

All bets were off, however, when he finally saw the red marks on your thighs from where the marine gripped you.

"Who did this?" He asked softly, his eyes glued on the finger shaped marks.

The smile didn't leave your face, it only grew when you heard his tone. You could tell that he was ready to storm the base again, if only to burn it down. You trailed your hand down from his hair to his cheek.

You stroked his cheekbone with your thumb. "You don't have to worry about it now," you whispered, putting your other hand on the marks with a demented smile. "He's dead. These are a... memento..." You were still quite proud of your method of killing and you were sure Buggy would be too when you told him.

"Are you serious?" He asked after your retelling. You nodded and giggled when he stood up to push you back into the bed. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and crawled on top of you. "Lucky bastard, getting to die between your thighs." He pressed kisses to your neck as he spoke.

You couldn't stop laughing and let out a delighted yelp when nipped the spot under your ear. "What? Don't tell me that's your dream now?" You pulled his head away from the spot in your neck to gaze into his eyes.

"I'm just saying I'd die a happy man if that were to happen."

You shook your head, laughter dying down when you felt his thumb trail over your cheek. The look in his eyes turned sour, he could see the makeup you used to coverup was smeared off. "Are you alright?" He asked.

He didn't need to say more for you to understand what he was referring to. There wasn't a day that passed where he didn't check in with you. You did the same for him when you noticed him looking in the mirror for longer than normal.

You grabbed the hand touching your face pressed your lips to it. "I'm fine." You held his hand there.

Buggy didn't want to press the issue and nodded. He leaned away from you to lay back against the pillows and open his arms for you. You smiled and crawled into his arms to rest your head against his chest. "I love you," you sighed.

"Love you too, angel."

It used to hurt to look into a mirror, but Buggy changed that. He knew what it felt like to have people turn away in shame after being caught staring. Now, as you stood in front of his vanity, staring, you didn't break the mirror. You used to do that a lot when you first came, but he never cared about constantly needing to replace it. He just cared about comforting your raging thoughts of insecurity.

With a soft candle illuminating your face in the mirror, you raised a tentative hand to your face. You lightly touched the clean-cut mark there. It started at the edge of your lips and ended at the your cheek. There was a matching one on the other side. It was scarred permanently there years ago. You let your hand fall. You looked back at the love of your life, snoring, and snickered to yourself.

No time to think of that, you had to get back to bed before he woke up. The candle was blown out, and so were any negative thoughts brewing in your head.

[herofics]

could i ask for gojo or basically anyone from mha with a reader who's suddenly dealing with memories of cocsa? thanks

A/N: I picked Gojo, since I just felt like I wanted to write about him this time around. I know you just sent this, and I have a few older requests that I’m working on, but I wanted to write this right away for some reason. I don’t know any other meanings for COCSA other than child-on-child sexual abuse, so I’m assuming that’s what you meant. This request is a bit broad, but I just did some angst with comfort. I haven’t written stuff like this in a while, but there are some similar scenarios in my masterlist, which you can find in the pinned post. I feel like I’ve mostly dealt with my own COCSA trauma, but I do still find these kinds of things therapeutic to write. Not gonna lie though, this sort of triggered me and I cried a lot while writing this, but I’m all good now and it was therapeutic I guess.

Word count: almost 2k

Warnings: (Graphic?) mentions of COCSA/rape, mentions of blood, self hate and reader blames themself for what happened

Today was not a good day. You were almost glad Gojo wasn’t going to be home for at least a day, he didn’t need to deal with this too. He had enough on his shoulders already, he didn’t need to try to handle your shitty mood and flashbacks too.

It wasn’t like this everyday. The memories just resurfaced sometimes and it was like they knocked the wind out of you. It was like a punch in the stomach and it made you want to puke. Sometimes you could still feel hands on you and this was certainly one of those days. You scratched your arms and thighs but the feeling wouldn’t go away. It never did, but you still always hoped that maybe this time would be different.

You decided to take that shower you’d been avoiding the whole day, hoping that maybe the warm water would wash away some of the guilt and self hatred.

You were almost done taking off your clothes, when you happened to glance in the big mirror that covered the inside of your wardrobe door. You saw it again. It was like someone had turned back time and you were staring at your child self in the mirror. A little kid, crying, disheveled in just a t-shirt and bloody underwear, with bruises all around their body, and blood running down their inner thighs. You didn’t even notice you were crying too, before your legs gave out and you just sat on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Why me?” you whispered between your sobs.

Your whole life you’d been told it wasn’t your fault, but no one had yet managed to convince you that that was true. You knew it had been his fault too, that boy who did this to you all those years ago. You’d also convinced yourself that you were to blame. You were the one who went with him. You were the one who didn’t scream and shout, you were the one who didn’t try to run away until it was too late, and by then, he already had you in his grasp.

“Why did you follow him? Why didn’t you fight back?” you’d heard those questions countless times. It was horrifying how much parents tried to justify their kids’ actions. “Surely you did something to make him do this to you” was one of the phrases you would probably never forget.

You felt like you were drowning in self hatred and guilt. How could you have been so fucking stupid? “You were just a child” some reasonable part of your brain whispered, but that was swiftly drowned out by everything else. You were still just sitting on the floor, but now your crying was quiet. You were rocking yourself back and forth, as if in a trance. The words “It’s your fault” kept running circles in your brain.

Gojo knew he wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He knew you weren’t expecting him for at least another day, but he was just happy to get back to you. He pretty much skipped up the stairs to the front door, he missed you.

He opened the front door, the house was quiet, suspiciously so. The lights were on, so clearly you were home, but you wouldn’t answer when he called your name. Nothing was out of place, but something was wrong, he could feel it. He just didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t feel any hostility or strange cursed energy around, but something was undeniably wrong.

When he found you on the bedroom floor, sitting in front of the wardrobe, he could see your reflection in the mirror. You had this vacant look in your eyes, you hadn’t even noticed him come into the room.

Gojo knelt down next to you and put his hand on your shoulder. It brought you out of your trance immediately, but not in the way he expected.

“Please don’t-don’t touch me” you pleaded as you suddenly started backing away from him.

You hadn’t noticed Gojo come into the room, but the moment he touched you, you came back to reality. His touch felt disgusting, you felt like his hand would burn a hole through your t-shirt. God why was this happening? Why were you reacting like this to the person you loved so much?

“Okay, okay, I won’t” he assured. “What’s wrong doll?” he asked as he stuffed his blindfold into his pocket.

You had backed away from him until your back hit the end of the bed, so there was about a meter of distance between you. Gojo felt like there was a ravine between you, like he couldn’t reach you on the other side. All his powers and techniques wouldn’t help here. He hated feeling this powerless.

“Talk to me, please?” he almost sounded like he was begging.

You shook your head with this panicked look in your eyes. Gojo didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort you if you wouldn’t let him hold you. It was like someone was tearing his heart into pieces. All he could do was sit there, and wait.

You wanted to tell him what was going on, you wanted to explain, but you didn’t know where to start. Would he think it was your fault? Would he blame you too? Before you could stop yourself, the words escaped your lips.

“I was raped”

Gojo just sat there, he felt like couldn’t process what you’d just told him. Raped? No, surely he heard wrong.

“What?” he had to ask, he had to make sure he’d really heard wrong, he really hoped he heard wrong.

“It-I was a kid and I was-I was raped…” you stammered.

He hadn’t heard wrong. Gojo had to really restrain himself to stop from embracing you. He wasn’t sure how else to comfort you. That was his love language, touch, but you really didn’t look like you could handle any of that right now.

You took a few deep, wavering breaths. You had stopped crying, at least mostly, but the self hatred and guilt were still very much there.

“I’ve been having some-some flashbacks and memories-and memories resurfacing today, and as you can-as you can see, it’s not a good day for me-me” you tried explaining.

“Do you need me to do something? I’ll do anything” Gojo stated very seriously.

“Can you just-Can you just sit there until this passes?” you asked apologetically. “I don’t- I don’t want to be touched right now, even the thought makes me want to vomit”

You didn’t want to make Gojo feel like this was about him, it wasn’t him touching you that made you feel nauseous, anyone would have gotten the same reaction.

“And it’s not about you, I just don’t want anyone to touch me right now” you added.

Gojo sighed in relief, for a moment he was scared he had done something wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.

You were starting to feel more stable, not good exactly, but better than before. Gojo’s presence helped, he made you feel safe and like no one could hurt you again. It was also a bittersweet feeling, you just wished someone like him had been around back then. Someone to stop anything bad from ever happening to you.

“I-I don’t really know how to talk about it. People don’t want to hear about stuff like that, not really, even if they want to help” you shrugged.

“I want to help, I really do”

“I don’t think you need to hear all the nauseating details of it. I know you want to help, but I’ve only got myself to blame really. I was so damn stupid” you shook your head with a disappointed sigh.

Gojo had to stop himself from reaching his hand towards yours, instead he just balled his hand into a fist. You didn’t want to be touched, he needed to respect that. Hearing you say that made him so incredibly frustrated. How could you blame yourself for something so horrific someone else had done to you?

“You weren’t stupid, you were a child and that should’ve never happened” Gojo said slowly.

“That’s no excuse though, I should’ve known better. I should’ve know the things he did were wrong, before it was too late”

“I don’t know how old you were when this happened, but would you expect a kid that age to know what you were “supposed to know”?” Gojo asked.

“No, but-” you started but he cut you off.

“So why would you expect it from yourself at that age? You shouldn’t need to know better as a kid, other people should know not to do shitty things” Gojo tried to reason with you.

That shut you up quite effectively. You would never expect it from anyone else, so why would you expect something like that from yourself. You didn’t really have a counter argument, and it had undeniably shaken your attitude of self blame and hatred just a little.

“Hah, you can’t argue with that, can you” Gojo smirked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“You’re so proud of yourself for coming up with that” you rolled your eyes, but your lips curved into a slight smile.

“If it made at least a dent in all that self hatred you’re carrying around, then yes” Gojo nodded.

“It’s not like I actively hate myself, it’s just days like these… mostly” your voice faded.

“Then I want to make sure you’ll never have a day like this again” Gojo said with a very serious tone. He looked so determined.

“That’s sweet Satoru, but I can’t promise that, and neither can you” you smiled sadly.

“Well we can at least aim for less days like this, right?” he asked.

“I think that’s a good start yeah” you nodded.

You were still sitting on the floor against the end of the bed, but you seemed much more relaxed and calm than when he came into the room. Gojo was happy you’d shared more of yourself with him, but he obviously wasn’t happy about what you’d told him. If Gojo were to ever get his hands on the guy who’d hurt you, he wasn’t sure what he might end up doing.

“I think you need some food and a lot of rest. I can take care of the first one and cook you something, but after that, you're going to bed” Gojo announced.

“I’m not even gonna argue with you about that, because you’re right”

“I’m always right” he smirked.

“Oh yeah, definitely” you rolled your eyes with a playful chuckle.

“Let’s go, I’ll cook for you” Gojo said as he stood up, and offered his hand to you to help you up.

You looked at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. It made you feel guilty that you didn’t want to touch him right now. You loved him so much, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to take his hand right now.

“Sorry I-I can’t, not yet” you apologized and got up on your own.

Gojo realized what you meant and pulled his hand back. He couldn’t help but feel a bit bad, he didn’t want to seem like he was pressuring you, even if he desperately wanted to hold you.

“No worries, you don’t need to apologize for that” he shook his head.

“I love you, Satoru” you smiled with some residual sadness still in your eyes.

“I love you too, (Name)” he smiled softly. “Now then, what would you like to eat?”