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outofboundsarchives · 1 year ago

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virgin charlie walker has me in a chokehold

OH MY GOD. This one completely got away from me and turned into just absolute filth. Thank you for the inspo Anon!

(As always my requests are open. I do both sexes, any gender, with any Rory Culkin characters)

/Fem reader/

•Charlie wouldn't say he was a virgin by choice. There was just a lack of desire to lose it. He didn't see the point in pursuing someone just for sex so he left it at that.

•Don't get him wrong, that didn't mean he doesn't want to. He was horny all the damn time. But he sort of got used to it, being pent up all day and then jerking off until he came 2-3 times that night.

•He never sought anyone out for their sex appeal. He didn't care what anyone really looked like in the porn he watched or looked at anyone with lust or need.

•Until you.

•It was one of those unpredictably hot autumn days. The ones where the mornings are so cold you can feel it in your bones, but the afternoons are sticky, and you want to peel your skin off.

•You knew it was going to get humid when you excitedly dug your favorite knit sweater out from your closet, but you couldn't resist. Halloween was so close, and you were ready for that fun, cozy feeling.

•But as the day crept on, you regretted your decision. By the time you made it to after school cinema club (one of the few classrooms without AC) you couldn't take it anymore and decided since school was over, there was no harm in you just wearing a tank top.

•You felt the instant relief of chills over your sweaty skin. You felt like you had been suffocating all day and could finally breathe. You let out a satisfied sigh through your nose and continued to listen to Robbie talk about finale girl syndrome or whatever he was on about.

•But Charlie felt anything but relief, his hands twitched as they gripped the edge of the teachers desk he leaned against. He crossed one leg in front of the other, his cock growing hard against his jeans as he stood in front of his peers. Your cleavage on full display as you rested your chest against the table.

•He couldn't focus, his mind overcome with images of your nipple rolling between his pointer finger and thumb. He imagined the sharp gasp you'd take before he pressed your soft tits together and slide his lubed cock between them.

•He thought about how hot your skin would feel, how your mouth would drop open as he came across your chest, smearing his dick against your breasts while beads of cum dripped down you.

•It didn't take long for him to become obsessed with you. Following you around, using every excuse to talk to you. Watching you get ready for bed.

•With your constant interaction, eventually, you two developed a friendship, and before you knew it, you fell hard for the outgoing nerd. Little by little, you tried making your attraction for him obvious, but he never reciprocated.

•One night, you decided to invite him over for a movie night. It was just before Halloween, and you were tired of dropping hints that he wasn't picking up.

•Charlie of course, said yes, jumping at the opportunity to watch his favorite horror movies. The fact that it was with the girl he couldn't stop fantasizing about made it all the better.

•You had seen Stab a million times, but you were still captivated by Charlie's excitement and little facts he'd spew.

•But you were starting to get restless. You weren't even at the halfway point before you decided to place your hand on his upper thigh. You could feel his body tense next to yours, but you kept going when he didn't push your hand away.

•As your palm brushed over his clothed groin, you feel his dick pulse, already painfully hard against your hand.

•"A-ahh fuck..." He whispered as his eyes closed and his head fell against the back of the couch. You watch as his palms open and squeeze shut, desperately trying to keep himself from thrusting up into your hand.

•"You're so hard, Charlie," you say in a mocking tone, teasing him as you continue to touch him. His hips squirm beneath your grasp, needy for more friction.

•"Yeah, yeah I...fuck I'm sorry," He groans before pulling his plush bottom lip between his teeth. You giggle at his apology, soaking in his reaction.

•"Would you like some help?" You ask with a smirk. Charlie is only able to look at you with a slightly confused look before you're leaning over his lap, pulling at his belt before opening the front of his jeans.

•You hear him take a deep breath as his cock pushes against his underwear, the tip turning the light gray fabric a darker hue. You pull back the waist band to reveal his leaking tip. Before he has time to even process what you're doing, your lips are wrapping around him.

•Charlie jolts with a choked breath. He didn't expect your mouth to feel so warm. His hands instantly pull your hair out of your face so he can watch as you sink down his shaft, taking him deeper and deeper.

•His hips lift off the couch slightly to meet the back of your throat before he mutters a quick "sorry" and tries to keep his body still.

•His chest falls quickly with each breath he takes, your cheeks hollowing out around him as your tongue pushes against the bottom of his cock. He looks down at you with fascination as he watches you move up and down.

•Charlie let's out a stuttered groan as he feels your tongue swirl around his head before you take him deeper into your throat again.

•"f-fuck!" He moans through clenched teeth. His free hand runs through his own hair, gripping at his scalp tightly. He wished he wasn't so sensitive, wished he had more experience, so that familiar knot in his stomach wasn't approaching as fast, but it was.

•His hips start to push into your mouth again, his tip hitting the back of your throat and then some. You slowed the bobbing of your neck as he pushed past your lips. He chases the rhythm you created and starts to thrust a bit quicker.

•Both of his hands slide through your hair as he holds your head in place as he fucks himself into your mouth.

•He tilts his head, watching as your lips slide up and down his cock, your tits almost spilling out of your shirt as they squish against his thigh. The sight drives him insane, his breath quickening as he feels his release.

•"Wait...wait hold on i...stop I don't wanna cum yet," He struggles as he tries to pull your head away but you don't budge. You take him deeper, your throat convulsing as you swallow around him and he's done for.

•His body rocks forward, his hands grapsing your head as he thrusts up into your mouth and spills down your throat. Your nails dig into his denim covered thighs as you take every last drop.

•You sit up again, wiping the droll from your lips and chin as you look at his flushed face.

•"Shit I'm sorry I, it all happened so fast," He huffs as he looks at you apologetically.

•"It's okay Charlie, most guys don't last that long, or even for more than one round," you try to reassure. Suddenly, his hands are on your shoulders, and he's pushing your back into the couch and crawling between your spreads legs.

•"I-I can go another round...i.. just, you gotta give me a minute," He says a little out of breath. You chuckle at his enthusiasm.

•His eyes wander down your body. He uses one hand to hold himself up while the other starts to grope your covered breast.

•"I-is this okay?" He asks quietly, as if being too direct will scare you away.

•You bite your lip and smile at his cautiousness. "You can do more than that if you want,"

•The second those words leave your mouth, Charlie hooks his finger into the front of your low collared shirt and pulls it down, taking the front of your bra with it until you spill out over the top. His hand immediately grabs your breast, squishing it in his hand as he leans down and takes the other into his mouth.

•He moans louder than you at the sensation. You're softer than he could have ever imagined, his tongue lapping at your perked nipple.

•You can already feel that he's hard again, his hips rocking his exposed cock against the rough fabric of your shorts.

•His fingers grab and squeeze your tits as his tongue rolls around your nipple. Your body arches up into his as the feeling shoots straight to your core.

•"I need you baby...want you to fuck me so bad," You moan in his ear. His movements come to a stop as he looks up at you, spit coating his pink lips.

•"i-ive never uh..."

•He's too embarrassed to say it. His body almost delates at the idea of you being turned off and calling it quits from his lack of experience. He seems genuinely confused when you shake your head and smile.

•"I didn't ask that Charlie, I said I want you to fuck me," You almost command as you reach down, pulling your shorts off of one leg. Charlie's eyes quickly drift down to your soaking panties before letting out a soft breath.

•He sits up until he's on his knees between your thighs. He pushes his hair back from his face as he watches you push the fabric down your thighs. His eyes are latched onto your dripping cunt as he reaches forward to help you take them off.

•"You can touch me Charlie, you don't have to be so scared,"

•His eyes drift up towards yours before going back down to the task in front of him. He scoots down the couch until he's almost on his stomach, his face between your knees.

•You feel Charlie's hands on the back of your thighs where they meet your ass before his thumbs slide against your slit, pulling your lips open. The sensation causes you to squirm so he does it again, his digits sliding against your labia, spreading you open and observing your most sensitive area before you feel his breath against your clit. You take in a shuddering breath before the tip of his tongue gently licks against you.

•Instant waves of pleasure wash over your body, and you let out a small yelp. Charlie looks back up at you before leaning forward and doing it again, this time applying more pressure. Your body sinks into the couch as your legs spread more.

•He takes this as a good sign and pushes his faces fully against you, his tongue lapping up and down your pussy. You hear him groan as his eyes flutter closed, the taste of you melting across his tongue.

•Charlie wasn't stupid. He had watched plenty of porn and knew what giving head was. He had just never experienced it. You didn't taste like strawberries or flowers like those shitty romance movies would say. You tasted like you, and that made him want more.

•Your hand quickly tangled in his hair, pulling his face up just a little higher as he swirled his tongue around you. He was eating you like a man starved, all those weeks of jerking off to the thought of you finally coming to fruition.

•He moved his hands from spreading you open to wrapping around your thighs and pulling you against his face. With this new leverage he pulled your hips onto his knees, your cunt angled toward his face before he dipped his tongue lower.

•"OH! Fuck," you whine as you bite your lip, not expecting this level of aggression.

•He just wanted to taste more of you but bumped his nose against your clit. You gasped before letting out a strained moan so he did it again, and again. His tongue burying itself inside you, fucking your entrance as he moved his face back and forth, his nose grinding against you.

•Your legs tensed, and you started to shake as praises and begs fell from your lips. You let out a loud whimper as he pulled his face away.

•His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He ignored your cries as he pulled you more into his lap.

•Your knees were bent and pushed towards your chest as he drug his fingers up a down your slit.

•"Taste so fucking good baby, fuck" He groaned as your juices dripped from his chin. His eyes were half lidded as he looked at you, a thick blush spreading across his face and ears. He pushed his fingers against your entrance, sliding his two middle fingers in at once. You yelped in surprise and cried out his name.

•"Is that good baby?" He asked, concerned by your sudden reaction. Once you chuckled and nodded, he started to pump his fingers in and out.

•"Could have you fuck my face all day, wanna taste this all the fucking time," He rambled before pressing his tongue against you again.

•Your body was almost convusling at this point, his tongue mixing with the curve of his fingers quickly bringing you to orgasm.

•"Please Charlie, please I'm gonna cum!" You whimper and he keeps his pace steady as he brings you over the edge.

•H-holy shit I, I can feel it," He says mostly to himself as you cry out and clench around him. Your cum soaks his hand and starts to drip down your bent torso. Charlie removes his fingers before burying his face in you again.

•"ah! I-its too much!" You moan as you grab his hair but he doesn't relent. His tongue laps at you as he savors the taste of your cum. You can feel his hard cock pressing into your lower back

•Cum and saliva connect strands from your pussy to his face as he pulls back again. He hugs your hips with his arms as he looks down at you.

•"W-was that okay?" He asks a little nervously.

•"Never had head like that before..." You pant. You both breathe heavily for a moment as you catch your breath, but Charlie's dick is still pressing into you, and you chuckle. "Do you think you're up for another round yet?" You ask as you bite your lip again.

•He pushes his hair out of his face as he looks down at you. "It's okay, we don't have to if- I mean if you don't want to that's okay i"

•You wiggle your hips until his cock presses against your ass. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't okay," You reassure.

•He takes a breath before his eyes fall to his lap. He grabs your legs a little tighter as he sits up, pushing his tip between your thighs and against your clit. You gasp at the sensation before he pulls back and rolls his hips forward again, savoring the feeling of the slick heat between your legs.

•"Oh god...fuck you're so warm...can I put it in? Please...please let me put it in. " He inhales through clenched teeth.

•"Charlie please.." You whine before he pulls back again. He presses the back of your thighs against his chest and puts your legs over his shoulder before slowly sinking into you. His mouth drops open, and he whimpers, the feeling of him stretching your walls almost too much to handle.

•"Fuck...so good feels so good..." He hisses as he pulls out and pushes forward again.

•He's not scream queen massive, but he's decently sized and thicker than most. Your thighs tremble as you feel him push deeper and deeper until he finally bottoms out. He lets out a low moan and stays still for a moment, savoring the feeling.

•You clench around him, your body adjusting to the stretch as his eyes slowly open as he looks down at you. His gaze is half lidded, and his lips are parted as he releases a shuddering breath.

•He pulls back, letting his head almost slip from your cunt before sinking back in again. You both moan at the feeling as he repeats his actions. His head rests against your calf before he kisses and bites your leg.

•"Charlie!" You inhale sharply. His hands spread your legs before he pushes his body down against yours, the new angle shifting him deeper. You cry out before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and fisting your hands in his hair.

•His hips slam against yours and your legs twitch. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your face, and he whimpers. The sound long and drawn out.

•His arms snake between your back and the cushion before holding you tight to his chest and starts to hammer into you.

•"Fuck!" You gasp as the wet sounds of skin hitting skin full your tiny living room.

•"it's okay, you're okay, baby...you feel so good, so good for me," He whines as he hugs you tighter.

•"Charlie...Charlie you can slow down," You try to breathe, but his grip feels suffocating.

•"Mine...you're all mine, no one else's." He rambles as his lips latch onto your neck. "So perfect, so soft," He groans as he thrusts.

•Charlie was getting lost in the feeling of you. His head was fuzzy like he wasn't all there.

•That day from cinema club plays in his mind. He was distracted that whole hour, wondering what it would feel like to take your breast in his mouth and hear you whimper as he bit down on your nipple. You got caught up talking to one of your friends and forgot your sweater on the desk. He told Robbie he would catch up with him later, that he needed to do a few things first.

•He bit his cuticles until they bled, until he couldn't hear the sounds of foot steps and fading chatter anymore. He fought with himself, told himself he was disgusting for what he was going to do, but he did it anyway. He walked over, grabbing the sweater and leaned against the desk again. He paused for a moment before bringing the fabric up to his face, inhaling deeply as his other hand made quick work of his belt. He grabbed his aching cock tightly as he started to stroke it.

•The pent up energy from having a raging hard on and the smell of your perfume and the image of your perfect tits pushed up on the desk had him spill his seed onto the soft fabric. The gratification was gone instantly after he realized the mess he had made. That night, he took your sweater home and washed it, making sure to take good care of it before it had a chance to stain. He would never forget that smell.

•That smell that engulfed every fiber of his being as he nuzzled against your neck and pounded into you mercilessly.

•You could feel his muscles shaking as he held his weight above you. His breathing started to become uneven and small whines fell from his lips. His behavior was almost animalistic.

•He shifted his weight to one arm as his hand slid between your sweating bodies, his thumb sliding between your folds and rubbing circles around your clit.

•"ah!" You yelp as your hands twist in his hair. You hear him whimper against you before his teeth sink into your shoulder causing you to cry out again.

•He would bite and suck on your shoulder before swirling his tongue around the wounded area and repeating the action over and over.

•The feeling became unbearable, and you pull his hair hard until he lifts his head. His mouth hung open as he moaned lewdly, his eyes screwed shut at the feeling.

•"You're close again...i-i can feel it," He whines before his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. "Please, please cum on me....wanna feel you cum,"

•He leans his head down, taking your nipple between his teeth and swirling his tongue over the nub. Every touch, every sensation was like a pull in your stomach.

•His thumb swipes over you a few more times before your muscles tighten, and you feel the snap.

•You clench around him as you cum, letting out strained moans as he continues to pound into you. You body goes slightly limp against the couch but he doesn't stop.

•"Charlie.." You huff as you try to take in a full breath.

•"I-i know, I know," He whines as he presses his face against your neck again. "So close baby, please,"

•His arms slip under your back again as he hugs you against him and slams into you. Your arms wrap around his neck, and your nails dig into his back, and suddenly he stops.

•His moan is almost like a sob, his legs trembling and cock twitching as heat explodes in your stomach. His body thrusts forward slightly as he pumps you full of cum, his grip almost crushing as he fills you up.

•You both lay there for a moment, panting and trying to gather yourselves before he slowly sits up. He grabs the base of his cock and watches as he slides out of you.

•As your walls try to clench around him, you feel his cum drip out of you. You watch as he stares at your used hole before he reaches forward swipes his finger up your slit and pushes his cum back into you.

•"S-stop its...it's too much," You groan as you try to close your legs. He pulls his hand away but keeps your legs spread open.

•"Sorry, You just look so good," He smiles as a thick blush creeps across his face again.

•His eyes never leave your body, completely taken with how red your pussy became from his abuse, the urge to kiss and lick your sensitive areas overtaking him.

•"Can we do it again?"

Aaahhhh sorry for any mistakes and for how long it took to post. As always requests are open for any Rory Culking characters!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #charlie walker #charlie walker smut #scream 4 #scream #ghostface smut #ghostface

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macgyvermedical · 5 months ago

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What's the history of gabapentin?

Gabapentin is a drug officially approved for partial seizures and posherpetic neuralgia (pain due to shingles).

It also represents the 10th most commonly prescribed drug in the US by number of prescriptions.

Now, that's not because that many people have epilepsy and shingles. Instead, it's because gabapentin is one of those drugs that you throw at the wall to see if it works. It is used off label for diabetic nerve pain, for anxiety, for restless leg syndrome, for alcohol (and methamphetamine, and cocaine) withdrawal, for a number of different acute and chronic pain syndromes, bipolar disorder, and migraines, and has probably been at least tried for everything else, too.

That is not to say that it actually works for everything. At most, it has about a 40% chance of being effective for things like diabetic neuropathy and anxiety, and it has a number of side effects that don't make it anywhere near a perfect drug. But if you notice, most of the things it's been tried and used for are usually treated with controlled substances. And in (most of) the US, gabapentin is not controlled. This makes it easier to prescribe and in theory that means it has less addiction/abuse risk than alternatives (only about 1% of people with an addiction history have used gabapentin recreationally).

Why gabapentin in particular? You may ask. Why not a first generation antipsychotic or a first generation antihistamine or a muscle relaxer? All of those are used as adjuncts to prevent having to prescribe controlled substances, right?

Well, that's because Pfizer broke the law. Repeatedly.

You may not know this, but if you're marketing a drug, you can only market it for what it has been approved by the FDA to treat. And Pfizer was going around telling anyone who would listen that their drug could be used for anything you didn't want to treat with a controlled substance. Which made it very attractive for prescribers and very lucrative for Pfizer.

But you know who really didn't like this situation? The insurance companies, which were paying a premium for this on-patent drug that at least according to the FDA was doing very little for things that weren't epilepsy or shingles.

So Kaiser (the insurance company) sued Pfizer and won a relatively paltry sum compared to the money Pfizer was making off of gabapentin, and Pfizer agreed to stop telling everyone that gabapentin could treat things the FDA said it couldn't. But since the cat was metaphorically out of the bag at that point, gabapentin continues to this day to be prescribed for everything.

#whump reference #writing reference #medical #history #gabapentin

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 1 year ago

Text

Request from @captainswintersoldier: Can you please write a story where reader goes back in time and meets her boyfriend Bucky in the 1940s?

Word count ~3.3k

Warnings: smut, p in v, mild fingering described, angst, mention of blunt force trauma and cardiac arrest (of original characters) and some comforting Bucky at the end.

A/N: shoutout to @samodivaa for your help and support! Love you!

The mission was simple: go back and gather intel. It was a small change but the team hoped it would correct a lot of wrongs.

You were nowhere near Brooklyn, no chances of anyone recognizing you. The risks were negligible. Or so you thought. You had infiltrated the barracks under the guise of a trained nurse. It wasn’t a tall order, you had almost completed your training and you knew your stuff, but occasionally your imposter syndrome would make you feel a little anxious about your activities.

It wasn’t something that concerned you too much tonight though, as you danced at the center of a throng of burly WWII soldiers. You’d completed your mission and you could relax until the time came for you to return home. There had been multiple offers of drinks but you needed to keep your wits about you. You had duties to fulfill and a cover to maintain.

Duty did call halfway through the evening. Two inebriated soldiers had fallen victim to their own drunken rambunctiousness and one of them needed stitches to their temple. You had to tear yourself away from the festivities to suture up the intoxicated infantry recruit and now had to clean up the mess he had made in your infirmary.

As you worked you sang quietly to yourself.

“The good old days, the honest man,

The restless heart, the Promised Land,

A subtle kiss that no one sees,

A broken wrist and a big trapeze.”

You were in the process of replacing your supply of gauze supply and in your eagerness you'd picked up more than your arms could handle.

“Oh well, I don't mind if you don't mind,

'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine.

Before you go,

Can you read my mind?”

You might have been a little too enthusiastic with your hip swaying because without warning you had stepped back and stumbled over the leg of the examination couch. Several packets of gauze went flying in every direction as you fell backwards. You expected to find yourself lying on the floor, but a strong arm was wrapped around your waist and lifted you back up slowly.

A green uniform came into view and you steadied yourself on a sturdy chest before you came face to face with a pair of dazzlingly familiar blue eyes. A gasp slipped past your lips as you took in the features of the handsome young soldier holding you upright. His eyes were the same as the ones you knew and loved, except they lacked the haunted look you’d come to know. Instead you saw glimmers of mischief and excitement, and was that lust?

“Well hello there, gorgeous. You trying to read my mind?” Bucky flashed you a glittering grin.

“I- what are you doing here?”

Confusion painted your features and you extracted yourself from his arms.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. You'd checked, he wasn't supposed to be here!

“See the thing is, I couldn't just let a gorgeous woman just spend all her time here alone while everyone else is out there enjoying the party.”

His words had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“You're not supposed to be here, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You know who I am?” His eyes lit up.

You rolled your eyes but your smile gave away the fact that you were charmed.

“I've seen you around,” you lied but your tone said something different altogether.

Stop flirting! Everything about him brought out your playful side.

“And I've definitely noticed you. I've never seen anyone as stunning as you.” He took your hand and lifted it to his chest, just around his heart.

A soft blush stained your cheeks and you could feel your heart fluttering wildly. How was he having such a powerful effect on you? This man in front of you was maybe ten years younger than you were, yet here you were swooning and melting into his arms.

“Say, if you're stuck in here, how about I bring the party to you?”

“Oh? What do you suggest?”

Bucky sauntered over to the window of the infirmary and pushed it open to let in the sound of music.

“May I have this dance?” Bucky put his hand out to you with his palm facing up as an invitation to you.

You couldn’t resist the temptation to take his hand, letting Bucky snake his arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. He smelled exquisite and you closed your eyes to take in his scent. It was only then that you realized that the fingers that he had pressed into your waist were made of flesh and bone. Bucky still had his left arm and he was holding you with it. You ran your hand along it.

“You like what you feel?” he smirked at you.

You shook your head with incredulity at how much confidence and sex appeal that was oozing off the man. It was like he was a totally different person from the man you loved. He probably was. Your Bucky had been through a huge transformation, lost everything he knew and loved. The man in front of you now was the caterpillar version of your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help but be captivated by him. Silently you let him lead as you swayed to the distant music.

As the music finally faded away, Bucky stilled but didn't let you go.

“So are we going to stand here all night?” you asked.

“It's just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

Ordinarily, you would never have been so bold as to speak to a man you’d just met in this sort of tone. But you knew Bucky, even if he didn’t know you. Now you were just testing his boundaries. And true to his form, Bucky leaned into you, holding you close, he pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was exquisite, familiar but different all at the same time. It was exciting and somehow terrifying. For the briefest of moments, you wondered what your boyfriend would think, before you put the thought to the back of your mind and let him kiss you again.

A few days later, you found yourself in the midst of a crisis. One of the new recruits was in the middle of a training session when he was slammed in the chest with a shield as he was brandishing a bayonet. The kid went down like a tonne of bricks, lying unconscious on the floor.

You were walking past when you heard his fellow cadets’ panicked shouts. In a flash you were at his side assessing him. A few shouts in his ear, your ear to his mouth and your fingers on his neck told you that he wasn't breathing and his heart wasn't beating.

“What happened?” you demanded from the scared men standing around watching you as you started CPR.

A few stuttered words and you extrapolated the rest. It was a long shot and you'd only ever seen them successfully perform the maneuver on television, but what the hell!

You lifted your hand and made a fist and brought it down forcefully in the center of his chest. The reaction was immediate, the young boy opened his eyes, gasping and coughing.

Your legs collapsed under you from the kneeling position you'd been in, Your heart wasn't the only thing that was pounding and you thanked your lucky stars that you'd had the guts to make the move. But your job wasn't done yet. The recruits had gathered themselves together and fetched a stretcher and carried their teammate to the infirmary. It took you around an hour to make sure the newbie was stable, but as you worked you could see Bucky hovering around out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey you.” You smiled at Bucky as you closed the door to the now stable and sleeping cadet. “You don't need to worry about Simmons, he'll be just fine.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he will be.” Bucky approached you slowly. “How’re you doing?”

“I'm alright,” you answer, finally noticing the predatory look in his eyes.

The blue of his eyes was darker than you remembered them. It made your heart skip a beat and you wondered if you too needed to be hooked up to an EKG machine like poor Simmons.

“I'm glad.”

His hand came to rest on your waist. Bucky stood in front of you. When had he gotten so close?

“Bucky?” you questioned his subtle approach.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, his other hand was on your hip.

He took another step forwards, pushing you backwards. Again and again until you were inside your office. As soon as the door closed he had you up against it, one hand on the small of your back and the other cupping your face.

“Bucky,” you muttered breathlessly. “What-”

There wasn't time for you to finish your question as his lips claimed yours with a hunger that you'd not seen from the young man before. Until now he had only been sunshine and roses with his words and demeanor.

But here and now, there was no doubt in Bucky's mind what he wanted from you. He was desperate, he was hard, he needed you. His thoughts were different, dirty, downright sinful. They poisoned his mind, like a plague. He was going to take what he wanted, right here against the wall of your infirmary.

You moaned as his lips moved down to your neck. Hands roamed your body as his hips thrusted into yours. There was no mistaking the erection he was sporting. He was making you feel like Niagara Falls under your skirt. Bucky slipped a hand underneath it, pulling aside your panties dipping his fingers inside you.

“Buck-” you tried to suppress a moan.

He answered by spreading his fingers and stretching your walls, making you whimper and whine into his neck. You dug your nails and teeth into his exposed skin as his thumb found your clit. The way he growled your name had you teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your walls fluttered around his fingers expectantly.

“Now why'd ya have to go get ahead of yourself, huh Doll?” Bucky pulled his fingers out of you and licked your essence off them.

“Bucky,” you whined. You started unbuckling his pants, pulling him free from the constraints of his briefs.

His fingers ran over your bare ass and down your thighs as you prepped him with a few pumps. He moved closer so you could line him up to your dripping entrance before he slammed into you with relative ease. You arched your back as he ran his fingers through your hair and tugged at the strands. Even after all this time, you couldn’t get used to his size. Bucky shoved his fingers in your mouth, filling it and muffling your carnal moans. His mouth was close to your ear and you could hear him mumbling a string of profanities into it along with something about how tight you were and how ruined you’d be when he was done with you.

He removed his fingers from your mouth to grab your hips again, pulling you towards him as he slammed into you repeatedly. He lifted your leg, opening you up before pushing deeper inside you. Then his tip brushed over that perfect spot inside you and your mouth was open but no sound left it. You wanted to scream but all you could do was gasp as he fucked the air right out of your lungs.

“Pleeeease.”

“Please what, Doll? Use your words, darling.” His mouth was on yours, swallowing your moans like they were the oxygen his body craved.

“Right there, Bucky. Please.”

You could feel the smirk on his lips as he thrusted his hips to hit your g-spot. And you knew the pace he was keeping would be your undoing.

“Faster Buc-”

Your young soldier had no more smart mouthed comments for you, just rocking his hips faster, his rock hard member filling you completely. Your body quivered dangerously as your orgasm built up, his cock twitched inside you. He was close too, every wanton sound pushed you closer and closer to your release, until you finally climaxed. Your walls clenched around him, legs shaking uncontrollably as he growled curses and filled you up with his white hot cum. You clutched his shoulders tightly as you both rode out your highs, panting until you felt like you could breathe again.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Bucky put a finger under your chin and tilted your face up so you were looking into his eyes.

Why did his dazzling blue eyes have this dumbfounding effect on you? Slowly and gently he pulled out of you, pulling your panties back into place.

“Don’t want to spill anything, right?” he grinned at you before turning slightly to tuck himself away.

His words made you flush in a way that you hadn’t done since he had strutted into your infirmary. Present Bucky had never spoken to you like this, he was so much more restrained than this rapscallion in front of you.

“I have to go.”

He surprised you with a deep but gentle kiss before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived, leaving you feeling a little unsettled.

The next time he came to find you was under different circumstances.

“Hey you,” you greeted him fondly, picking at the collar of his uniform jacket.

He pulled you to the side, one of his hands grazing your back while the other hand wrapped around your arm to guide you around the corner. The absence of his usual swagger should have alerted you to the oncoming storm.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “Mmm, Buck!” you murmured as you felt something hard pressed against your leg. “Not out here!”

“Well it just so happens that I have a bottle of pretty good rye in my pocket.” He smirked at you.

“Oh and here I thought you were just happy to see me.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Doll.” The smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes and you were well versed in reading Bucky’s face, he hadn’t changed as much as you’d originally thought.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?” you asked tentatively.

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

You run your fingers over the small ridges on his brow and around his eyes, the ones you’ve seen far more often than you ever hoped to. And now you could see them on the young soldier’s face.

“I feel like you know me better than I know myself.”

“Maybe I do,” you whispered against his lips.

The gesture was intimate but you’d suddenly been gripped by fear and you wanted to keep him close. He looked down at the floor, not making eye contact with you, his hands were stuffed in his pockets and he shuffled his feet nervously. When he finally looked back up at you, sadness shining in his beautiful blue eyes, you knew why he had come to you.

“Don’t go,” you shook your head.

Bucky sighed. “I have to, Doll.”

“Please,” you begged.

“I gotta go help my friend out, my unit.”

“I’m sure they’d manage fine without you. Stay here with me.” You were clutching at straws.

“When Captain America asks for your help, you can’t say no.”

“You can. I’m sure Steve would understand. He’s your best friend.”

“That’s exactly why I have to go. Someone needs to keep that punk’s nose out of trouble.”

Words failed you, you knew he wouldn’t stay. Not even for you. You flung your arms around his neck, your whole body trembling with fear and anxiety. “Please,” you whispered into his neck, over and over.

Bucky held you close, his hands wrapped tightly around your back until you fell silent. Eventually he pulled your arms down from his neck so he could see your face. His palms cupped your cheeks and he brushed your tears away with the tips of his thumbs.

“Don't worry, Doll. I won't be gone long.”

Fresh tears leaked from your eyes at his words. You knew the truth, what future waited for him. There was nothing more you could say that would change his actions. It would be like a leopard trying to change its spots. Not that you would try, Bucky's loyalty to his friends was one of the things you loved the most about him.

“I'll be back soon. I promise.”

You wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep but you just stood there, relishing the feeling of his left hand on your face. It felt as though time was standing still, you didn't want things to change.

But just as the thought formed in your head, the moment was interrupted by a distant yell. Bucky turned to the sound of his name being called.

“I gotta go, Doll.” He pressed his lips against yours one last time before backing away slowly until the hand he was holding couldn’t stretch any further.

He flashed you a sad smile. You closed your eyes to blink away your tears and when you opened your eyes again he was gone.

It felt like hours that you stood against the wall, it was the only thing holding you up as you reeled from the loss. The reverie you'd lost yourself in was broken by a strong vibration from the hidden device in your pocket.

It was time for you to go home.

You stumbled into your office and activated the device that would take you back to your own time.

The journey was tumultuous and you staggered out of the other side of the wormhole, collapsing straight in your boyfriend's arms. Sobs wracked your body as he held you tightly and you mumbled muffled apologies into his chest.

Bucky looked around at the others bewildered by your reaction. He felt your arms and legs looking for signs of injuries that might have upset you.

“I'm here, Doll. I'm here. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He cradled you into his arms and carried you away from the other watching Avengers. Finally your breathing slowed and your tears dried up. You looked up at Bucky’s anxious features.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled down at you.

“Hey,” your voice squeaked as you answered him.

“Wanna talk about it? ‘Cause not gonna lie, Doll, I'm kinda worried. What happened?”

“You weren't… you weren't supposed to be there.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were there, Buck.”

“I was?”

“You don't remember?”

Bucky shook his head. “You saw me?”

“Yeah. You were pretty cute.” You smiled shyly, wondering how Bucky would take this.

“Did I hurt you?”

You hated the fear behind his words.

“No, Bucky, of course not. But I-”

“What?”

You felt ashamed of what you were about to tell him and you looked down at your hands when you made your confession. “I knew that if I stopped you leaving, that I'd lose you here. I'm sorry. I was selfish. Everything you've been through is my fault.”

Bucky sighed, he hated seeing you so upset, especially over something that you were never responsible for.

He took your face in his hands, the same way he had done in 1940. The only difference now was his cold vibranium fingertips against your flushed cheek. “Look, I still have a lot of gaps in my memory from… before. But one thing I know for a fact is that you aren't responsible for what happened. Got that?”

You sighed and let your boyfriend envelope you in his arms. Maybe one day you'd believe him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #skittle's requests

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mariamariquinha · 1 month ago

Text

to kill your demons all over again - Cooper Abbott x f!reader

Summary: Cooper was just a neighbor. Just that: a neighbor.

Word count: 10.755

Warnings: I mean, all of them (hehe). But being serious now, that's, like, dark. Dark themed, in other words, which means that you guys can stop right here. It's totally 18+ content, with sexual themes, explicit violence, manipulation, kidnapping, cheating, mental issues, traumas, panic attacks, that kind of thing. Read at your own risk.

Author's note: I've never written anything this long, nor this severe. Maybe you think it's a little similar to the plot of Split, if you watched it? Yes, but it's Shyamalan's work with another Shyamalan's work, and anyone who knows the guy knows that he creates connected universes. That's not the case, it's just poetic license.

It is worth mentioning that I do not agree with anything I wrote, nor do I want to induce any type of harmful behavior. If there are sensitive topics, please DO NOT READ.

Not gonna share my opinion on the movie either, but if take a look at my blog, you'll see I'm one to write for the bad ones ;)

Josh Hartnett? Yes ma'am.

****

It was a strange, predatory feeling. You thought you were becoming paranoid, a little… too anxious. Someone gave you antidepressants, sleeping pills; you couldn't use any of those things, so it only made you more restless on some occasions.

It was on your morning runs that this happened, but it wasn't a rule for the time you spent outside the house. Sometimes, when you went to sleep at night, you stopped in front of your bedroom window and looked down: you saw the lawn, the neighbor's house, the street lit by street lamps. There, as you stared at every detail of your landscape, you felt as if someone was lurking, watching, stealing your sleep, and you ended up locking the window, closing the curtains, and staring at the ceiling into the night because you couldn’t keep your eyes closed for more than five minutes.

And it was like that, day after day after day, pushing your limits more and more, demanding that your lungs burn and your legs almost fail from exhaustion, begging that your physical tiredness would supply your waking mind and then you could actually rest.

You used to have panic syndrome – depression too, but treatable. That would put you on your toes most of the time, constantly reminding you of things from your past you exactly didn’t like to remember, and even if you knew that fear was irrational, sometimes you wondered if that paranoia wouldn’t come to you one day. Probably as a big hairy monster – probably as a deep, long wave of water, hitting you with enough force to knock you out, but not kill.

Running, tiring yourself out… this was your long wave. You, precisely, taking control over something before it could kill you inside.

Cooper was just someone you knew by chance. He was your neighbor along with his wife and two children; he was friendly, polite. You couldn't necessarily say you knew him beyond a 'good morning' or, once in a while, how the people collecting the trash were late by a day or two. You weren't one to talk much either, and he never forced long conversations.

The only times you spent more than five minutes in the same space was at the swimming gym, which was very close to the fire station where he worked.

You discovered this by chance too: suddenly you were getting out of the pool and he was there, usually doing his own private training, always very focused. It was a silent dance, in which you arrived at the same time, did the same things and probed each other's orbits without saying a word. The small talk on the sidewalk, the polite waves, the brief 'Merry Christmas' in December… All of this was there, in that neighborhood, limited to the distance of a yard between you. There, between the pools and the chlorine, the two of you only existed, always close but far away at the same time.

It was a simple routine. Again, casual. Definitely one of the few things that gave you a sense of reality and stability.

****

“You haven't been to the pool these days.”

That was an unusual situation, whether due to the question or the context. Mrs. Anderson, your neighbor, had thrown a birthday party for her granddaughter and invited you. You almost didn't go, but on a rare occasion you helped the girl cross the street and, apparently, the kid insisted on having you there.

You were sitting at one of the tables, snacking on a slice of strawberry cake and staring at the table unassumingly while the commotion happened around you; when you heard the question, you looked up in time to see Cooper standing in front of you.

“... I've been working a lot lately,” Which wasn’t a lie.

He hummed, lowered his eyes to the plate in front of you and then raised them to your face again.

“Show up there any day you can. It's not the same without you.”

“Oh?”

“I think it's a force of habit. I'm a bit… pragmatic, so to speak. I don't mean to sound weird, I just-”

“Likes routine.”

He gave you an airy smile, which you returned with a more friendly one.

“Me too. I’ll come back, as soon as I have the time. Just don’t ask me to run over some laps, I can’t take it.”

“As long as you're there, I promise.”

And that was the thing, that… point that made you understand why Cooper, a person you barely knew, was someone you remembered. Because you looked back at your cake and unconsciously looked in the direction he had just left, only to find him looking back just like you were. Because it was that palpable feeling that he was one step away from telling you something but never did, and you were left waiting with more anxiety than usual.

You liked him, as company, but it would be impossible to say that it was because he talked a lot or showed a lot; on the contrary, Cooper understood your rhythm and just followed it. He was easy on the eyes, an active listener, as if he captured every crumb of word or gesture you offered him. He was kind enough to not use the side of the pool you were used to, although you suspected he also had his favorite side, and he was always visibly organized.

It was a risk that you sometimes took, almost unconsciously: when you went to bed and didn't sleep, you tried to go through your day and sometimes stopped at the wave that Cooper gave you as soon as the two of you left the swimming gym, or at the his figure standing in your doorway as you turned the corner during your morning run.

Nothing extraordinarily invasive, nor absurdly explicit: it was just Cooper being Cooper, and that often left you feeling more consistently pleasant than any medicine you took.

****

It was an accident. It must have been, what, three, four in the morning? And once again, you were having a particular episode of insomnia, as familiar as going to bed that night. On some occasions, when sleep didn't seem to come at all, you occupied yourself with some household task that you didn't pay attention to during the day, such as cleaning the furniture or washing the dishes; that night, you chose to do the laundry.

So yes, it was an accident, even though the door to your laundry room was made entirely of glass, as was the window, and you had a full view of the window of the house next door, which belonged to Cooper. You had never looked there – ever. There was nothing to see. The time you spent in that laundry room was unusual, when everyone was already in bed and there was no sign of light or active life in the houses. You stayed there, listened to music, prepared a snack because you usually didn't eat dinner either.

You had already seen Cooper shirtless at least 15 times. He swam in the same place as you, it was more than natural that this was one of the clearest things about him. It wasn't a big deal, you clearly thought he was handsome but you never gave it a second thought, specifically.

As usual, you put the clothes in the washing machine, turned it on, and ran your eyes over the grass in your yard, then over the fence. Calmly, you leaned over the washing machine, stretched your neck in one way or another, closed your eyes, felt the physical fatigue throughout your body. When you opened your eyes again, you saw that a light on the other side had been turned on, and it was inevitable not to look.

He was serious, working with something you couldn't see through the window. Unlike the other moments, Cooper had strands of hair over his eyes, perhaps from the position of looking at the task at hand, and was still dressed while doing so. You kind of let yourself be looked at, and that wasn't an accident, you admitted that you knew what you were doing.

Then he stopped moving his hands. Calmly, he took them to the fabric of the shirt he was wearing and smelled the collar, then made some decision that made him start to unbutton it. There you should have stopped. He hadn't seen you yet, you could duck or just leave the room to avoid any embarrassment.

You remained there, standing still, and if possible, leaned further over the machine, pressing the fabric of your nightgown against your chest and stomach to have a clearer view. He wasn't muscular, but he was strong: dad body. He was visually robust, natural. And even if you hadn't gone that far, you just realized that it was easy to give in to going a little further; you could just feel a specific shiver down your spine when you saw him from behind, the extension of his back and the flexing of muscles as he did one thing or another.

Yes, you could consider it all an accident. You would say it was, if someone asked, even if the only person who could do that was Cooper, who when he saw you watching him from the other side, didn't hesitate for a second, and seemed like the type capable of keeping that secret.

He grinned, but didn't wave to show more than necessary about seeing you there. With patience almost in slow motion, Cooper mouthed 'go to bed' and it almost made you smile. Almost, of course, because that woke you up from your recklessness enough to make you stand up, running your hands through the straps of your camisole as if you were exposed.

He looked at you openly from where he was, tilting his head to the side.

You waited for something to happen, let him analyze you however he wanted, and then he turned off the light and only his shadow seemed visible there before it disappeared completely.

Suddenly, it was just you and your reflection in the window glass. Suddenly, it was your eyes darkened, your hands on the thin straps that help cover your sensitive breasts, your mouth partially open. God, your nipples were fucking erect – did he see that?

An accident. Your wet panties and hot body were just that: a fucking accident.

****

It was a chill down my spine; someone sniffing the back of your neck, almost but not quite touching your shoulder, or that familiar feeling of not wanting to close your eyes in the shower for fear of what might appear when you opened them.

You didn't sleep a wink for more than two hours that night. It wasn't the insomnia, or the feeling of being chased: it was just the idea that if you looked out onto your lawn and looked up a little, you'd find Cooper there, in that window, looking back. Before, when you weren't yet clean, you could chalk it up to some hallucination, but you were sure it wasn't. The sensation, the vision, his look… Everything was too palpable for something just illusory.

You touched yourself in the morning – after your regular run, after tiring yourself out and not feeling that sensible tingling sensation going away. You didn't even look in the direction of his house, but, again, it was as if the whole journey was a long race against something other than prey, but the kind of thing that didn't leave your head.

In the shower, you closed your eyes, and the idea of being watched was replaced by the expectation of being observed by him. Your fingers ran through your hair, all the way down to your neck and you stopped there. Would you really do that? Would you close your eyes and think not just about that night, but about all the other times you interacted with Cooper?

Your fingers brushed your breasts and you shivered at the idea of his hands touching it instead of yours. Of his rough, crispy palms, a result of his hard work, splayed all over your skin and marking each centimeter of it with a grip or a touch or a pinch. You wanted him to do that, – imagined that Cooper would transition between being soft and rough – to be demanding, to tell you what to do. You pinched one of your nipples; the moan you let out was sinful, indulgent. The coolness of the tiles didn’t do much to ground you, but you managed to have some leverage before placing your feet at the edge of the bathtub, using your other hand to pass through your belly and navel, all the way to your fluttering pussy.

Everything was extremely hot, chilling, like shocks of pleasure passing through your body. Your clit was so sensitive when you touched it, so at the mercy of the mere idea of having him there, in front of you, maybe between both of your legs, smiling against your skin before sinking his tongue into you. A long, single lick from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices to test firsthand what you were feeling. You replicated the process: you penetrated two fingers, then slid them up, finding your sensitive nerves, and a relieved sigh came out of your mouth.

The cool water from the shower didn't ease the fire inside you, nor did your impetuous mission to satisfy yourself with that image in your head. You rolled a nipple between the two of you, pinched it lightly again, and stuck your fingers inside you again, your hips moving as you reached more and more of your spongy spot. Would he let you get on top? Would he instruct you to bounce, or would he ask you to continue that slow torture of feeling him everywhere, seeking the sensation little by little?

It was enough at that moment, but in the long run you would want more. Like in the pool, when he came out of the water after you and you could see, even if discreetly, the shape of his penis. How come you never paid attention to that before? How can you never notice that it could be big and explicitly ideal to fit inside you? You licked your lips at the thought of sucking him; he would make you get on your knees, he would gladly order you to do it even if you were going to do it anyway. Would he hold your head, thread his fingers in your hair and control your speed? Would it make you choke?

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave; it made your legs shake, your eyes squint and your teeth sink into the flesh of your lower lip.

You didn't say his name, you wouldn't admit it verbally. In your head, however, when you opened your eyes and didn't feel like you were being placed under observation or some kind of paranoia, you realized that you missed being analyzed, stared at, watched… But by Cooper.

That was a secret you were willing to keep.

****

Your strokes were firm, strong, fast; you let the water pass through you in a strong, definitive way. You walked more laps than usual, maybe out of tension or maybe because you hadn't seen it since you arrived at the gym, as usual.

You eventually stopped. Calmly, you lifted your head out of the water, both hands on the concrete edge of the pool. You took off your goggles, then your cap; you took a breather little by little, like when you were running, staring at the fixed point of the locker room door. Drops of water dripped and ran down your face, and your open mouth burned your throat. You could taste chlorine, the same drops dripping onto your lips and, consequently, your tongue.

A pair of feet stopped in front of you at a reasonable distance; from the feet you went to the fabric of the shorts, which was familiar, and then to the rest of the crouched body until you found Cooper, completely dry and shirtless, looking at you with that same friendly smile as always.

You gulped, since you could hide it behind you being out of breath and not on how your throat suddenly got really dry.

“Did you start without me?”

“I…” You blinked up at him. “I think you're the one who's late.”

His smile got even wider while he nodded along.

“I had to deal with some things. Nothing serious, but I ended up waking up a little later. I had a long night.”

The reminder made you not know what to say, so you just let out a brief 'ah' and continued looking at his face, waiting for him to say something more or make that 'accident' something to talk about between you. Cooper weighed that silence masterfully, measuring the length of your attentive face to your lips and your neck, which moved with each dry swallow you took to catch your breath.

This wasn't making your life any easier.

“It looks like your training was harder today.”

That was unusual, but you should have known better than to expect him to act the same way after that show. He actually seemed to be testing you, seeing how you would react. Perhaps your forced neutrality was frustrating him a little; perhaps he expected you to insinuate yourself again at the first opportunity you got.

You looked around the pool, shrugged.

“I have insomnia. Some nights are worse than others.”

“Ah. I see.”

Then you very calmly went to the stairs and left the pool, feeling him behind you, walking towards you. Suddenly your swimsuit started to bother you; suddenly, when he stopped in front of you, you felt pinned to the ground by the look he was giving you, and then everything itched, to the point where you couldn’t stay still.

“Did it tire you?” His voice was low, secretive. You licked your lips, shook your head in confusion.

“... What?”

“Swimming. Was it enough to tire you from your night without sleep?”

“Not a lot.”

His face went from soft to concerned, almost in a mocking way, but you knew better than thinking he was trying to make fun of you.

“This is unfortunate. You need to rest at the right times, it could be bad for your health if you continue at this pace,” He tilted his head to the side, measuring your face one more time, especially when you snorted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” You nodded. “Been trying to have a proper sleep since-”

You stopped talking, but he didn't stop paying attention, much less showing that he was waiting for an answer. That feeling of being watched came again, only with more force. With every second of silence on his part, his ears began to hear the beating of his heart, thump-thump-thump-thump-thump, and his hands began to shake and a lump formed in his throat. You remembered the accident, your sister's face; just the idea of the justification for what was going to come out of your mouth took you back to years ago, because suddenly you had forgotten why you didn't talk about it with people. That's how it started. It was always so… sinuous, as if your head had grown three, four times larger, and then your floor would open up and you wouldn't move.

Why did you do that? Why did you think it would make sense to talk about something you've never talked about before? Why did Cooper make you feel comfortable enough to do it?

You grabbed the skin of your chest tightly, digging your nails in there as the grip only intensified. With blurred vision, you tried to speak and, again, you were overcome by a wave that suffocated you, and suddenly your sister was there in front of you, agonizing and bleeding, and the feeling of a cold night with a salty breeze invaded you.

When you no longer felt strength in your legs (when you saw yourself falling to the side), you were almost sure you saw Cooper smiling at the scene, but before you could process that too, you had already blacked out.

****

That was a big one. Your usual doctor was at the hospital and spoke to the emergency doctor who treated you, you were able to hear the conversation. Cooper wasn't around: you remembered seeing him at some point underneath, as if he was carrying you, but since you woke up in the hospital bed, you hadn't seen him anymore. You were still in your swimsuit. From afar, you heard Dr. Tuckerson talk about an 'isolated case' and the other doctor said something about 'medication reassessment', and that made you even more uncomfortable.

You squirmed on the bed, looking away to where they had placed an IV in your arm, then to the sheet they used to cover you. Why an IV?

“How do you feel?” Dr. Tuckerson came closer, so you snapped your head at him with a deep frown.

“Why is-”

“We ran some tests and you’re dehydrated,” He elaborated, doing as much as sitting at the edge of the bed. His face was always like that: serene, very thin, with very blue and very penetrating, condescending eyes. “So? Are you feeling okay?”

“... Yes.”

He nodded.

“Apparently you haven't been eating or sleeping well, which may have influenced the intensity of this episode. Last time we reported one like this, it was a-”

“A year ago, yeah,” You adjusted yourself on the mattress, using one hand to pass all over your face and sighing in defeat. “I don't know what happened.”

Again, a nod.

“We’re investigating. It was probably a very vivid memory, which also has to do with your current lifestyle. I know it's been difficult for you, but have you done what we agreed? Every time we talk, you say that your adaptation with people has been smooth. Was there anything different in the last few days that may have induced some type of stress in you?”

Stress wasn't exactly the word, but you didn't think that incident had anything to do with Cooper. Maybe you should be more incisive with the paranoia issue, saying that it stressed you mentally and could be an aggravating factor?

“No,” You shook your head. “I don’t… it’s been normal.”

“Right.”

Unlike other times, Dr. Tuckerson didn't write down anything you said, although you felt like his notebook was nearby. He just stood there, quiet, hands resting in his lap as he stared into your face. It wasn't like with Cooper; his gaze was neither inviting nor receptive, it was more… inspective, like he was trying to press an answer out of you even if he wasn’t asking anything.

“Your neighbor brought your things,” Then he broke the silence, opening that stupid notebook and going through the small pages. “Cooper. He said you two were at the swimming gym when it happened.”

“... Ah.”

“Would he be an example of how things are going well?”

You considered his face for a moment, weighted all of your interactions, last night… Then shrugged.

“I think so. We go to the same gym, we talk sometimes.”

“And what were you talking about when you passed out?”

“My lack of sleep, I guess.”

He hummed, then checked his notebook again – you watched it closely.

“And he is… how? In general, do you talk about these things? Is he polite, does he hit on you?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

You didn't sound defensive, and honestly, that question was one of genuine curiosity. What, after all, did Cooper have to do with anything? What was Dr. Tuckerson's interest in him, that he was just a play and had no influence on his mental state? Sure, you two had that moment, and you certainly wouldn't talk about it with your psychiatrist, but just as Dr. Tuckerson knew you, you knew how to recognize some of his mannerisms, and that seemed like another worry that he didn't want to share with you.

He sighed, closed the notebook and stared you down.

“We've never talked about him before. I believe it's a casual thing, like conversations between neighbors or something, but don't you find Cooper familiar? Like a… father, maybe?”

You knew what he was getting at, and you both knew it was something else that was bothering you. Father problems were a normal thing, but you certainly never associated your interests, platonic or sexual, with what that figure represented for you. Still, denying this was like denying a lifetime of knowledge that only Dr. Tuckerson had; even if it were true, it would be very pathetic to admit it.

“I'm not implying anything, right? I just want you to be careful. Cooper is a nice guy, very helpful. It’s important to have this type of contact, even if it’s brief, but you don’t do anything just because. It can be worse.”

He saw the ring on Cooper's finger – you had seen it countless times, too, just like you saw Rachel and their children. It wasn't the time or the place, but maybe it was the time and the place for a reality check.

“Okay.”

“Good,” He smiled, placing a hand on top of yours. “You're going to stay here for a while, just until you stabilize a little more. Maybe you'll spend the night. If you need anything, ask them to call me, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

He left and, as soon as you were alone in that hospital room, you felt an elephant's foot pressed against your chest, and an uncontrollable urge to cry.

****

The feeling of sleeping in the hospital was like having all that paranoia tripled. It was like that when the accident happened, all eyes on you, all the time monitoring you. The silence, however, helped you relax more; medicines too – especially medicines. It was a heavy sleep, without dreams or nightmares, just your eyes closed and the sense of resting.

Maybe that was why you remembered very little about who took you home. You remembered Dr. Tuckerson being there, and probably what sounded like Cooper's voice, but you couldn't be sure. What you did know is that she was put in a car and, naturally, taken home.

****

“Easy there… here you go.”

Cooper felt lucky, but he wasn't going to use it as an advantage; he would hate to see himself as lazy. After so long, it wouldn't be that way that he would take the next step.

You were a bit of an idiot; almost pathetic. At least that's how people made you out to be, including that Dr. Tuckerson, who certainly had more than just a professional interest in you. Who wouldn't, after all? Cooper wasn't one to have such inclinations, but you were all physically organized, attractive, young… With a head like that, you were the perfect combination – easy prey.

He would have made up his mind with you long before, but you were a neighbor, so he had more time to consider making that decision. When he finally decided, which was around the time you started looking at him for longer, he spent time thinking about how he would start and, sometimes, trained on other people to be decisive when your turn would come.

When he laid you down on your bed, he ran the idea through his head: it would go with your thighs first. Thighs that were spread out on the mattress, uncovered by the fabric of your summer shorts, marked by your intense desire to disappear with those morning runs. Cooper looked over them carefully, checked that you were actually almost asleep again before running his fingertips over the inside of them.

Then it would go to the belly. It was always a part he thought about, because either he would go all over the torso or just use fat and skin. Maybe he would go with the torso, but then he would work on the chest, then the arms; would leave the head.

He never thought much about these things conditionally; he had Rachel, and that was enough. He was only human enough to recognize the sexual attraction he had for you, and when he found out what you were like, a little sentimental, the kind who would think about how you would be more obedient as a wife, how you wouldn't question anything, how easy you would be to manage. He particularly would get hard just thinking about it.

But that wasn't the case; there was no other solution. Cooper had already found relief in the possibility of dying and for you it would also be the end of a fight. He would still be doing you a favor, by God, and that was the right thing to do.

You shifted in bed, opening your eyes again. He continued sitting there, observing your face, seeing how your state of almost sleep made you so soft and smiling more than usual.

“You’re here,” You mumbled, a hand going straight to his face.

“I am,” He said back.

“Why?”

“I brought you back from the hospital, remember?”

You frowned for a moment, then groaned. It was clear that you were navigating between reality and whatever effect that drug had on you.

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm. Like the other day, when I…” You were dozing off again, but then your hand fell from his face to his covered leg. That made you open your eyes again. “When I dreamed about you.”

“Did you dream of me?” His question came with an amused tone: not because it wasn’t obvious before that you felt the same way, but the way you just nodded like a puppy, looking up at him as if begging for some attention.

Cooper almost admitted that he did it too, with you; that after that small moment between you two, he took himself in hand with the possibility of doing whatever he wanted with you, that you were giving him this out, that you wouldn’t give him so much work. So responsive, so… attentive.

“You shouldn't do that, or tell me that. What should I do with you now, huh?”

But you didn't respond because, again, you went back to sleep. Cooper stopped smiling immediately �� he stared at your expressionless face for a while, as if waiting for you to wake up, and when you didn't, he got up to look around your room.

Remembering Dr. Tuckerson, he thought he could take him out of the game. The guy was a psychiatrist, he had that clinical look of someone who knew everything, and that irritated Cooper. You weren't like that, you were lost, unfocused, uninterested in people. The only time he saw you interested was in himself, and that was a satisfying feeling.

Looking around your room, he took in the sunlight coming in through the window, hitting your things. He got up and went to a small bookshelf with some books; then he ran his eyes down their spines like he did last time, noticed the titles, and gently pulled out the two that were so familiar and checked the small equipment he had installed there. If he had more time, Cooper would change the batteries, but he didn't want to risk it because, despite being asleep, you were still there and he would hate having to improvise with you.

Then Cooper came out, gave you one last look and closed the door behind him.

“Soon,” He thought to himself, heading towards your stairs.

It was the kind of thing he couldn't wait to happen.

****

You woke up in a dark room. It was your bedroom, and you realized that you were wearing the same clothes as the day before. You were a little dizzy, your head hurt, so you felt around the room for your things and almost dragged yourself to the bathroom. You had four missed calls from your mother; in the texts, somewhat affectionate words asking about your condition, and finally a warning that she would come over at the weekend to check on you.

You just replied with a brief 'ok' and got into the shower. It took a long time, you were a little out of your orbit: if you tried hard, you would still smell the chlorine from the pool.

While going downstairs to prepare something to eat, Dr. Tuckerson called and asked if you were okay. It was almost 8 pm. You said yes, and mentioned that you were still a little drowsy, so you would heat up some soup left over from another day and go back to sleep.

He asked if you wanted him to come by. You said it wasn’t necessary.

You took a large aspirin in your mouth, took the bowl of soup out of the fridge and didn't want to transfer it to a deep plate, you just stuck it open in the microwave and stood there in front, staring at the light coming from inside, heavily winking while massaging your temple.

A noise came from the back door, and it was the first time you acted quickly since you woke up. You waited, without saying a word, for yet another noise, but instead you received another text from an unknown number.

It’s Cooper

Can I come in?

And looking back, you should have said no. Really, you should never have said a simple yes to him, but you did because you were unbalanced and, at that time, you were clearly drugged. You went there, shuffled down the dark hallway without turning on any lights, and at the back, in the discrete light of the night, Cooper was standing with both hands in his pockets.

“Cooper? What are you doing here this late?” You mumbled, looking both ways when you should’ve asked why he came by through the back door.

“I wanted to know if you're okay. Dr. Tuckerson asked me to bring you home and since you slept all day… How are you?”

Dr. Tuckerson hadn't mentioned anything about this help from Cooper, but perhaps he was just more concerned about how you were at that moment and the details were left for later. You accepted his friendly smile and let him enter.

“I’m better. The medicine they gave me knocked me out, I'm particularly tired,” You said, walking back to the kitchen with him on your heels.

“Could they send you a few more doses, huh? To help you sleep at night.”

“It's a shame they don't make it as easy for someone diagnosed with panic syndrome and post-depression, right?”

He didn't say anything, so you went back to the kitchen and hoped he was at least behind or close by. You continued with your back turned, took the soup out of the microwave and gently placed your fingertip in it to check the temperature. Warm. On point.

“I didn't know that's what you had,” He offered softly, leaning over your counter as you sat opposite him, the two of you facing each other.

There wasn't much point in hiding it. You wanted to, but Cooper had saved you from a huge problem: if you had been alone there, or if it had happened to someone else, maybe you would have had more than the aftereffect of a good sleeping pill. You still considered, though, rotating the spoon in the soup for a while staring at it.

“I was in a car accident with my sister when we were younger. I never fully recovered from that.”

“We don't need to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“No! No, I…” You looked up at him. “I think it's more than fair for me to be honest with you in this regard. I kind of passed out in front of you and made you take me to the hospital.”

“You didn't make me do anything, these things happen. I'm a firefighter, that's basically what I do.”

“Still,” You pressed. “Thank you.”

He stared at you for a while and you stared back; it was as if he knew something you didn't, something that made a light of mischief shine in his eyes. Then, after a discreet spoonful of soup, you remembered why you could be like this, or why it was convenient for him to show up at your house at night.

Your cheeks warmed, just as your neck.

“So you remember,” Cooper murmured.

“Sorry for that.”

“Why?”

“Well, because you’re married, for starters,” Your collected tone wasn't enough to convince him, which should have been a warning because his argument alone should have ended the conversation.

You didn't tell him to leave either; again, you didn't even deny him entering your house. It was kind of late, Cooper came in the back door and… Damn, shouldn't he be with his wife and kids?

The mention of his marriage didn’t do a thing, then. He nodded, accepted what you said, but didn’t make a movement to create some distance or break eye contact. He smiled softly at you, wandered your face with his eyes.

“I was married last night too.”

“... I know.”

“So do you regret it?”

Yes, and that was one of the rare occasions where that should be the right answer, but you still didn’t say it. You glared at him, turned to your soup and sipped another spoon.

“You said you dreamed of me.”

“I did.”

“What happened in that dream?”

“Cooper-”

“I want to know. Tell me, please.”

Cooper was magnetic, skilled with words and polite. That line Dr. Tuckerson had said, the reminder that you should be careful, it was all in the back of your head, but looking at Cooper in that moment excluded that entire narrative. Suddenly he wasn't a risk, suddenly you wanted to open up to him (in more ways than just the metaphorical one) and that made you fold without even realizing it.

“I-” And before you could keep going, he had one hand in your bowl, discreetly pushing it to the side to have more access to you. “I dreamed that you were in my bedroom.”

“How?”

“How…?”

“How did I end up there?”

“I don’t know, you were just… there.”

He hummed, then used the small space between you to slide his hands over the counter, his fingertips brushing your knuckles. His head was down, focused on your fingers, and you didn't know if you could breathe. You should stop it there, demand that he leave, but nothing would come out; you acted like someone under a spell.

“I know how I would end up there,” Cooper raised his eyes, locking it with yours. “You would wear one of your satin nightgowns, just like the one you wore when you watched me. I don't think we would stop at that show, because you would seduce me.”

His index finger traced a squiggle on the back of your hand. You couldn't move, you couldn't react. Your tiredness and everything else were completely replaced by the same fire in that laundry room, in the shower when you masturbated thinking about him, and you leaned into the feeling without even thinking twice.

“It's not really a dream, don't you think? Because you could have just opened that door and I would have come here if you asked me.”

“... Is that why you came here tonight?”

Cooper smiled openly.

“I came here to check.”

“Check what?”

You knew exactly what you imagined under that shower: the expression that would probably be on Cooper's face, how he would touch you. Maybe it was the context of the hospital, the way he saw you, because when he touched your face, a hand covering your cheek and your ear, it was like a caress. The first kiss was a long peck, just to test the waters. He pulled away a little, his breath hitting your face, and before your lips could cool, Cooper came closer again and gave you another, this time longer. His mouth was soft, cool; with a slightly unshaven beard, it was a contrast between his lips and the rough hair on his face. It was sensual. When he tilted his head to the side just a little, just enough to handle you and fit into that kiss better, you almost moaned, either because of the sensation or because you wanted him to go faster, to take you for himself right there.

You couldn’t remember the last time you kissed someone; not even a date. Your life was kind of empty in that aspect, which you accepted because you weren't an easy person. Not with Cooper. Cooper barely knew you and didn't seem any less interested in you after what he witnessed. He massaged your tongue with his eagerly, as if he wanted to consume you just as you wanted to be consumed, and that wasn't the kind of thing solved with a fertile imagination.

The counter started to be an impediment when the kiss cooled a little. He looked at that thing separating both of you as if it were offensive, but he didn't break the touch.

“Do you want to-”

“Mm-hm.”

It seemed like every last bit of tiredness and insecurity on your part had gone as soon as he gave you that smile.

****

He knew you would taste delicious, just as he hoped you would be completely responsive. It was a fact: you needed command, guidance, and he was sure that Dr. Tuckerson wasted a lot of time being the nice guy while trying to be in the position he was in at that moment.

Cooper asked you to take off your shorts, along with your panties. He had time, Rachel and the kids were with her mother for a visit, but he was thirstier than expected. You obeyed so beautifully; you opened your legs as he wanted, exposed yourself to him and… God, you had such a beautiful pussy, so wet and ready for him. He didn't resist. He calmly took off his shirt, placed it on the coffee table and stopped you from taking off yours. Not yet, he said, I want you to trust me. And again, you trusted. Blindly. Not for a moment did you suspect his presence there, or that it would be stupid to think that that asshole psychiatrist of yours would ever place him as someone who would take care of you.

He wanted to feel that immaculate skin on his, so he lowered himself between your legs and let his face pass over your thighs, as well as the palms of his hands, tracing each muscle, each part, imagining the magic of when the cut would pass right there, at the junction of your thigh and your pussy, and everything would be palpable. Cooper nibbled on the meat, heard you hiss and smiled before kissing the area. He had something to do, he couldn't forget that, so he discreetly lowered his lips to your entrance, where he sank in, never to leave again.

You had a taste of perdition, of pure desire. He grunted when, as he sucked your clit very slowly, he felt your fingers pull his hair, without guiding him but letting your nails scratch his scalp. He ran his tongue between your entrance and your sensitive spot; he had to give up the grip he had on your thighs to open you up and press one or two fingers inside, but it was worth it, because as soon as he found a rhythm, your sighs did it for him.

Cooper rutted against the upholstery of his sofa; he was getting hard as a stone. As he became more anxious and excited, he accelerated the movements of his fingers because he wanted you to cum in his mouth, he wanted to feel more of your flavor before he felt you squeezing against his cock. He couldn’t help desiring you as much as he did at that moment: the prospect of having that control over yourself made it for him.

Your orgasm was intense, almost spectacular. Cooper thought you were a virgin, but your pussy had been used, that's for sure. He lamented as he licked his lips and drained the rest of your juices, when he got up to undo his belt and pants and saw you there, with big horny eyes, without any support until he arrived.

“You can take it off now,” He murmured, not leaning down for another kiss because he wanted to see it all.

Your torso was a different situation and he knew that, hence the interest. It was easy to get your mother to tell you what had happened when you moved, conveying in certain details that you were fucked up in the head because your father was mentally ill with homicidal tendencies. As you exposed yourself in the low light of the living room, Cooper saw the scars that adorned just below your breasts, with one that crossed the area of your ribs that he could always see if he passed by, when swimming or when you wore certain outfits in your morning runs.

It was the last prize, the icing on the cake. You were so immersed in what was happening that you didn't notice him noticing the marks, not even when he ran his hand over them. When he raised his palms to massage your breasts (when he felt, again, the thin skin that surrounded them and squeezed them), he felt like he could cum right there, in his own pants, watching you squirm and bite your lower lip.

Sensible, very sensible.

He reached down and ran his tongue over a nipple, but this time he watched your reaction. He suddenly decided that he would want you conscious when he was going to use that part, to see how you would react, to test how much your face would contort before you passed out from the pain. Yes, he thought, the legs would come second then, and the breasts first.

“... Cooper,” You sighed between gasps when he kept going, a hand on the back of his neck to stop him. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Don't you think you can handle one more? Just one more?” Cooper asked, sucking the nipple between his lips before cooling it off with a soft breath. “You're so tight, honey. I don't want you to get hurt.”

It was the right thing to do, to say; his eyes even turned dark with excitement at that. He smiled satisfied, then went back to work, going between sucking them and kissing them tightly, sometimes even pinching them. You would squirm, moan, gasp, sigh – all the while rabbiting your hips to get closer to his crotch, then brace him between your legs.

You didn't know how strong you were there, which was an advantage, but a warning for him to be careful. A little more effort and you could dominate him. But you wouldn’t do it – you were too busy pushing your chest up against his mouth, taking all he was giving you.

Cooper unconsciously looked up and saw the camera he had right on your ceiling, one you knew because you installed it yourself. Your mother said it was an exaggeration; it was right there that he almost thought about killing her. She was just like his mother and you didn't deserve that.

The thought made him suddenly angry. He felt his body boil with irritation, which made him blink a few times and feel his breathing become heavy; Cooper didn't pay attention if you noticed that, but then he was seeing red and couldn't stop.

He suddenly pulled away and looked over you. He took in your body with his eyes, then your confused face, and all he could hear or see or feel was his mother, right there in his ear, saying all the things that were wrong with him, or the slaps he got, the hair pulling, the cuts.

“Coo-”

Your neck was softer than he thought, but your legs were as strong as his assumption. You tried to push him away with your knees as soon as he leaned over you and grabbed your neck with both hands, not pushing but squeezing. You began to struggle beneath him, hitting him in the face, arms, chest; if he hadn't dealt with it before, if you were the first, maybe he wouldn't have been able to, but he had strength and he could dominate you.

Your mouth started to open with lack of air and you tried to scream, but nothing came out. Typical. He liked it that way, when there was a fight, a debate, when he needed to press a little harder or put more weight on top. Cooper felt strands of hair fall under his eyes, but he didn't lose focus: he looked into your eyes, which were now scared and desperate, then finally took the next step he had been waiting for for so long. A feeling of satiety passed over him as he began to see your face give way, as did your strength. Little by little, amidst your alert body, your slaps lost their strength, as did your scratches and pushes. He didn't give in until he saw you take one last breath of suffocation, and he held on for a while longer until you actually passed out.

Cooper sighed with relief when he saw your limp body. He moved away a little to loosen the grip on your neck and your touch on his torso, then he got off the sofa, fastened his pants and belt, and stretched his back.

He looked at his wristwatch, then tentatively looked through the living room window to see if there was anyone on the street. Then, calmly, he went to the camera wiring and, with the help of a chair, removed it from the ceiling of the room. He dressed you again: panties, shirt and shorts. He would have to go with his car, but he already expected that. The backyard cameras had already been discarded, so it wouldn't be a problem, but it would have to be quick.

Just in case, as soon as he put you in the trunk, he applied an additional dose of tranquilizer, so you wouldn't wake up until you got where you were supposed to be. He caressed your face and closed it.

****

Why do you think he didn't kill you?

You wanted to tell her that he just didn't kill you because he didn't have time, or because it would be inconvenient because you were a neighbor, or that he just wanted to torture you, but she already knew that; Dr. Josephine knew Cooper better than anyone else. So you stayed quiet, shrugged your shoulders, and she wrote something down in her notebook like Dr. Tuckerson usually did.

When you woke up, you felt so dizzy that you thought you were going to vomit. You didn't, however, because you felt very strong and tight restraints on your wrists, which were tied above your head. There was no way to move much: there was space, but you were placed in a sitting position and the grip was strong enough that you couldn't even get up. You tried, of course; you pulled until you felt your shoulder hurt, until you saw that either you could undo it or you wouldn't be able to get out of there.

It was like a basement, but there wasn't much in it. You saw some concrete counters and an iron table; on the ceiling, a hook similar to those used in a butch-

No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

A feeling of despair passed over you and you began to scream, while you tried incessantly to free yourself. This couldn't be happening. Your heart was in your mouth, beating against your chest, suffocating you. The muscles in your arms and shoulders creaked against the strength of that binding, your legs struggled for nothing, and you began to cry uncontrollably as you felt a wave of panic consume you. It wasn't the usual familiar feeling, no; it was something primal, instinctive, strong. You didn't just think you were going to die, you knew you were going to die.

You stopped after about fifteen minutes. The floor was rough and began to hurt the soles of your feet; you stayed there, leaning against the wall, suffocating in your own fear, trying not to lose control even though you had already lost it immediately.

How did he find you?

You began to get the impression that Dr. Josephine was studying you more than studying Cooper, and you needed Dr. Tuckerson's reassurance to understand that she was trying to help you.

It took almost an hour, perhaps, for him to appear there. By that time, when your tears had already dried and you were feeling your body dehydrated with sweat, you were staring at a fixed point in the room: a small window, or just a square with glass on the wall, high up, almost covered by a piece of cardboard. The noise made you look directly at that door and…

“It didn't look like him. I mean, it was him but… It was different.”

“How different?”

He had a cocky demeanor, despite appearing somewhat stiff in his gait. As you watched him calmly enter the room, passing by you as if you weren't even there, you shrank against the wall as best you could, feeling your entire body stiffen in pure fear. That was a familiar feeling, the fear – seeing someone in front of you who intended to hurt you was familiar territory.

Cooper (or the Butcher) must have known this, because he took advantage of this tension to continue there, probably looking for something while ignoring you. Tears began to form in your eyes again, but instinctively you held them back; your breathing became labored and uneven again.

He then looked at you with the same friendly smile as every other time, except for his eyes, which were empty and dark. In his hand, he had a knife: small, like a pocket knife. Later you would discover it was an oyster shucker.

“I tried to make it as comfortable as possible for you, hon,” His voice was weirdly livid, and he didn’t even flinch when you tried to kick him away when he crouched down in front of you. “Not familiar? I think it is. For me it is, at least. Although it would be selfish of me to make this comfortable just for me, so maybe I should accommodate you too.”

Once, as a child, your father had cut you with a hunting knife. He didn't even hunt, you didn't even know where it had come from, but you were avoiding a stab to your sister and ended up being grazed, right in the rib region, below the chest. It was the first of many, but it was a feeling that was not easily forgotten.

Cooper stuck that knife in your leg. Without even hesitating, that easy, fast. You couldn't scream, despite the latent pain, but you opened your mouth to try to express something, which you also couldn't. He used that time to analyze your contorting face and streaming tears; probably studied how you would react, what you would do.

“Damn, did I do it the wrong way? Did he just cut it and not stick it in? Tsk,” Cooper tilted his head to the side, searching for your face. “Sorry for that. I'm also the type to cut it, but only after it's already dead. If I do it beforehand it makes a mess.”

You had already heard a lot about the Butcher and, despite that memory being the last thing that crossed your mind at that moment, you kept going through the pain if you had missed any sign in Cooper, besides the fact of your obvious stupidity of having sex with him. There wasn't – there just wasn't. He was a normal guy, with a normal life and a normal family, but at that moment he was sticking a knife in your leg and telling you how he prefers to kill a victim. You would be next. You, with that almost irreversible pain burning in your thigh, would suffer torture before being cut into pieces.

“Why don't you talk to me? You liked talking to me so much before.”

A small grunt of pain left your throat, along with the labored sound of your panting as you tried to get used to the sensation. You still hadn't looked him in the face properly after the stabbing; when he did, he had a worried, sickly frown on his face.

“Here we are, hi…” He smiled. “You are a very strong woman, yes ma'am. Very different from what your mother told me.”

You snapped into action, knife in you or not.

“The fuck you did to my mother?” You snarked, and that made him lose his psycho smile for the sake of a dark expression, as if you just spit on his face by the mention of her.

“I didn't do anything. I wanted to, but I didn't, because she's nothing more than a cunt. She came to my house and told Rachel everything. I know who you are because of her.”

Heavens, Rachel… the children… Did they know what a man he was? The things he did? Were they safe?

Cooper saw your expression change as if you were reacting to what he said about your mother, because he shook his head again in disapproval. Out of the blue, he took hold of your jaw harshly and got you close to his face.

“Where's your sister?”

More tears began to form on your face and no matter how much you tried to free yourself from his touch, Cooper tightened his grip on the juncture of your bones, with another of the familiar pains of a life of abuse. Not her, please, you thought, even if there was nothing he could do, even if it was just you who he wanted. You didn't ask yourself why; you didn't want to speculate what would make him choose you, because the answer was obvious. You were easy, approachable. Nothing in your life was stable, you had no one. With a mother who bordered on narcissism and a little encouragement, you ended up underneath him, having erotic dreams and being subjected to the condition he wanted to impose on you, which was exactly that: submissive, new flesh.

No one would miss you if he killed you – when he killed you.

“I looked at the records. I know she died because her leg was cut off in the accident and you stood there, doing nothing. You let her die,” He breathed against your face, your cheeks drowning in tears and your gasps coming alongside pants. “And I'm going to do the same thing. I'm going to send you in pieces to go to the same hole as her.”

Again, you tried to move away from his grip, but all it did was intensify the pain in your shoulders and the searing one in your leg. Cooper let go of you, the back of your head hitting the wall.

He stood up, looking over at you and you couldn't lift your head to look back.

“That knife is in your vein, and if you try to take it out, you'll bleed like her. That's why I'm not going to take it off, understand? Because I want you to stay alive for now.”

Cooper turned his back; he would leave. He would leave and you would stay there, agonizing, feeling every inch of your body burn with tension, fear and pain. You cried again, this time with more intensity, and suddenly your arms went soft with giving up.

“... I don’t want to.”

You saw him stop, glance at you over his shoulder.

“I don't want to die. What did I do to you?”

He threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut – again, bothered by you. You thought that he would kill you right there, just because you asked that, but it took you so much strength to do so that it was just inevitable, so you asked for an answer.

Why didn't he kill you?

Because he knew that if he killed you, he would heal your pain, and he wasn't willing to help you. When he said he would make you find your sister, a feeling of relief passed through you: that you would no longer have a nightmare, that you would be able to rest, that you would be able to ask for forgiveness. Forgive me for leaving you there. Forgive me for not knowing what to do. Forgive me for not protecting you.

It was a reaction of desperation and protection, Dr. Tuckerson would later say. That your brain had processed that you were going to die anyway, so it would take the step of accepting your fate and giving him a sense of comfort with what you had available.

“You need to find your peace, just like me. Your mother did this for you, she put me on your path and this is how it will be. I will relieve you of your pain, just as I intend to relieve myself of mine.”

You looked him in the eyes, with as much rigidity and seriousness as you could manage. You gulped, licked your dry lips.

“... One daughter has already been taken from her, and you will take the other. Who do you think you are to do this?”

Cooper considered you with narrowed eyes.

“It won't be on your terms.”

“So fuck you, you piece of shit.”

Little did you know, but that smile and those words would be the last things that would connect you to Cooper.

****

You were there for a week. It almost killed you.

He didn't show up: he wouldn't give you water, food, or let you go to the bathroom. You smelled like piss.

You had already given up, you already knew it was the end of you. That deep down, even if people helped you, you were destined to die as your father wanted you to die: left in some corner, dirty, injured, defeated.

You had a fever: the cut became infected. The circulation in your arms was impaired due to the position you were in and you sometimes had small lapses, like reflexes, and tried to pull them down or simply let them go.

It was there, in the agony of waiting for your death, that you had time to think about the matter, and these would be the details you would tell Dr. Josephine when they needed you again. That your paranoia about being watched was because Cooper was watching you, that the sleepless nights, pretending to be insomnia, were reflections of the invasions he made in your home. That he took away your peace, little by little, while smiling at your conversations and interacting as if he were just a good neighbor.

“You had asked me that time why he hadn't killed me,” You said, the two of you walking in the patio of that hospital, both hands behind your back. “I think it was because he wanted me to suffer what he suffered.”

And then Dr. Josephine considered that with a certain regret, stopped walking and made you stop too, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“He thought you were just like him.”

And maybe you were? There, sitting in that dark room, waiting for your death, you thought about all the anger you felt when you stuck that sliver of car bodywork into your father's chest, how ecstatic it was to free yourself from the demons that imprisoned you.

Then you smiled, in what felt like the last bit of your life energy, and thought that dying meant having the pleasure of knowing that if there was an afterlife, you knew that your father would be there too, and that no one would agonize in it function of his mind anymore.

And when they found you, in the midst of a shock from the infection, you felt your head was light with the idea that if they didn't, you could agree with Cooper and take comfort in the idea that your mother really gave you one more gift: the chance to kill your demons once again.

****

#cooper abbott x reader #cooper abbott x female reader #trap #trap movie #trap 2024 #josh hartnett #m. night shyamalan #horror film

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animasola86 · 1 year ago

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Sebastian Sallow Headcanons (revisited)

I made a similar post a while back, but I think it's time to revisit it.

Sebastian Sallow is a Scorpio (born between Oct 23 and Nov 22).

Typical Scorpio traits include being resourceful, ambitious, brave, (com)passionate, possessive, jealous, loyal, supportive, emotional, intense. I’d say he is all that. Also fits the Slytherin characteristics.

I don't have a particular date in mind for him anymore, but I'd say around Halloween or after would suit him and Anne. (I haven't looked at the actual Astrology aspect of it, leaving that to the experts here!)

He is a nerd and an athlete.

He is the kind of nerd who will hit you with knowledge when you least expect it and never as the know-it-all type, but rather the let-me-share-my-knowledge type. I'm sure he'll be actually fun at parties.

And I see no problem in him being hunched over books for hours on end and being physically fit at the same time. (Yes, he seemed a little unfit at the start of fifth year, being all breathless on the way to Hogsmeade and during a mission up some stairs, but I'll ignore that. He'll grow into it.)

So he's not only fit enough to brave all those stairs in Hogwarts, I also see him on the Quidditch team. I initially had him as a Beater in my head, and I still stand by it, but I do see him as a Seeker as well now, just because how he can show off by catching the Snitch.

(I don't see him as a Chaser, too average a position for him imo, or a Keeper, I think he'd be too hyper to stay in one place all the time, even though his protective trait might play into it, but he can focus on that more when he hits some Bludgers around.)

He is tall.

I also HC that Ominis is taller, but Sebastian is still tall. I put him at 1.80m/180cm (5′11″) initially, but I might even put him taller now. He'll definitely have another growth spurt during his last years at Hogwarts and grow into an even taller adult, so for now, let's settle on him being 1.85m/185cm/6'1" at the end of the game. (Angst can make you grow, yes.)

(And I need him to be tall because my MCs usually are quite short and I just love that size difference dynamic so much!)

He is an extrovert.

He might have his baggage to carry during his fifth year (and beyond), but he still has many extrovert tendencies, especially needing people around to recharge - even if it's just one person (our MC preferably). He is a twin, so being alone was never really an option before Anne got sick.

That's why he hates being alone, he'll certainly have his mind flooded with doubts and dark thoughts if he happens to be alone. That might make him clingy and/or overprotective towards his significant other/friends, but if it helps him sleep at night, he won't hesitate to hog those special people to his advantage.

He is a light sleeper.

And probably has nightmares more than your average boy considering all the stress he puts himself under, with his worries for Anne and the constant abuse from Solomon and his general past (loss of his parents, etc.).

Yet even though he might have trouble falling asleep and sleeping in general, I do think he can sleep anywhere, thinking about the shed in Feldcroft that the fandom considers to be his place to stay when he visits his sister. Also as a twin he was probably used to sharing small spaces and finding sleep wherever he can.

He can't sit still for long.

Call it ADHD, restless legs syndrome or general nerves, he probably can't sit still and has to fidget a lot as well. Might conflict with his ability to absorb himself in books for hours on end, but even when reading, I'd imagine him moving a lot (think back to him pacing in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, or his constant walking cycle through the DADA tower, etc.).

His favorite color is green.

Obvious choice, I just needed something to end this with. So here we go. Green for Slytherin, for nature, and maybe, probably hope? Who knows.

[ 🔞 NSFW Sebastian Sallow Headcanons ]

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow headcanons

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underneaththatblackblanket · 1 year ago

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"The 200+ Symptoms of Fibromyalgia"

(Note: Some symptoms may overlap)

GENERAL

1. Activity level decreased to less than 50% of pre-illness activity level

2. Cold hands and feet (extremities)

3. Cough

4. Craving carbohydrates

5. Delayed reaction to physical activity or stressful events

6. Dryness of eyes and/or mouth

7. Edema (Oedema)

8. Family member(s) with Fibromyalgia

9. Fatigue, made worse by physical exertion or stress

10. Feeling cold often

11. Feeling hot often

12. Frequent sighing

13. Heart palpitations

14. Hoarseness

15. Hypoglycemia (blood sugar falls or low)

16. Increased thirst

17. Low blood pressure (below 110/70)

18. Low body temperature (below 97.6)

19. Low-grade fevers

20. Night sweats

21. Noisy joints – with or without pain

22. Poor circulation in hands/feet

23. Profuse sweating

24. Recurrent flu-like illness

25. Shortness of breath with little or no exertion

26. Severe nasal allergies (new or worsening allergies)

27. Sore throat

28. Subjective swelling of extremities – (feels swollen Bu can’t find anything)

29. Sweats

30. Symptoms worsened by air travel

31. Symptoms worsened by stress

32. Symptoms worsened by temperature changes

33. Tender or swollen lymph nodes, especially in neck and underarms

34. Tremor or trembling

35. Unexplained weight gain or loss

PAIN

36. Abdominal wall pain

37. Bad hip pain

38. Burning Nerve Pain

39. Chest pain

40. Collarbone pain

41. Diffuse swelling

42. Elbow pain

43. Exacerbated Plantar arch or heel pain

44. “Growing” pains that don’t go away once you are done growing

45. Headache – tension or migraine

46. Inflamed Rib Cartilage

47. Joint pain

48. Lumpy, tender breasts

49. Morning stiffness

50. Muscle pain - widespread

51. Muscle spasms

52. Muscle twitching

53. Muscle weakness

54. Pain that ranges from moderate to severe

55. Pain that moves around the body

56. Paralysis or severe weakness of an arm or leg

57. Restless Leg Syndrome

58. Rib Pain

59. Scalp Pain (like hair being pulled out)

60. Sciatica-like pain

61. Tender points or trigger points

62. TMJ syndrome

63. “Voodoo Doll” Poking Sensation in random places

NEUROLOGICAL

64. Blackouts

65. Brain fog

66. Carpal Tunnel

67. Feeling spaced out

68. Hallucinating smells

69. Inability to think clearly

70. Lightheadedness

71. Noise intolerance

72. Numbness or tingling sensations

73. Photophobia (sensitivity to light)

74. Seizures

75. Seizure-like episodes

76. Sensation that you might faint

77. Syncope (fainting)

78. Tinnitus (ringing in one or both ears)

79. Vertigo or dizziness

EQUILIBRIUM/PERCEPTION

80. Bumping into things

81. Clumsy Walking

82. Difficulty balancing

83. Difficulty judging distances (when driving, etc.)

84. Directional disorientation

85. Dropping things frequently

86. Feeling spatially disoriented

87. Frequent tripping or stumbling

88. Not seeing what you’re looking at

89. Poor balance and coordination

90. Staggering gait

SLEEP

91. Alertness/energy best late at night

92. Altered sleep/wake schedule

93. Awakening frequently

94. Difficulty falling asleep

95. Difficulty staying asleep

96. Excessive sleeping

97. Extreme alertness or energy levels late at night

98. Falling asleep at random and sometimes dangerous moments

99. Fatigue

100. Light or broken sleep pattern

101. Muscle spasms/twitches at night

102. Narcolepsy

103. Sleep disturbances

104. Sleep starts or falling sensations

105. Teeth grinding - "Bruxism"

106. Tossing and turning

107. Un-refreshing or non-restorative sleep

108. Vivid or disturbing dreams/nightmares

EYES/VISION

109. Blind spots in vision

110. Eye pain

111. Difficulty switching focus from one thing to another

112. Frequent changes in ability to see well

113. Night driving difficulty

114. Occasional Blurry vision

115. Poor night vision

116. Rapidly worsening vision

117. Vision changes

COGNITIVE

118. Becoming lost in familiar locations when driving

119. Confusion

120. Difficulty expressing ideas in words

121. Difficulty following conversation (especially if background noise present)

122. Difficulty following directions while driving

123. Difficulty following oral instructions

124. Difficulty following written instructions

125. Difficulty making decisions

126. Difficulty moving your mouth to speak

127. Difficulty paying attention

128. Difficulty putting ideas together to form a complete picture

129. Difficulty putting tasks or things in proper sequence

130. Difficulty recognizing faces

131. Difficulty speaking known words

132. Difficulty remembering names of objects

133. Difficulty remembering names of people

134. Difficulty understanding what you read

135. Difficulty with long-term memory

136. Difficulty with simple calculations

137. Difficulty with short-term memory

138. Easily distracted during a task

139. Dyslexia-type symptoms occasionally

140. Feeling too disoriented to drive

141. Forgetting how to do routine things

142. Impaired ability to concentrate

143. Inability to recognize familiar surroundings

144. Losing track in the middle of a task (remembering what to do next)

145. Losing your train of thought in the middle of a sentence

146. Loss of ability to distinguish some colors

147. Poor judgment

148. Short term memory impairment

149. Slowed speech

150. Staring into space trying to think

151. Stuttering; stammering

152. Switching left and right

153. Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you speak

154. Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you write

155. Trouble concentrating

156. Using the wrong word

157. Word-finding difficulty

EMOTIONAL

158. Abrupt and/or unpredictable mood swings

159. Anger outbursts

160. Anxiety or fear when there is no obvious cause

161. Attacks of uncontrollable rage

162. Decreased appetite

163. Depressed mood

164. Feeling helpless and/or hopeless

165. Fear of someone knocking on the door

166. Fear of telephone ringing

167. Feeling worthless

168. Frequent crying

169. Heightened awareness – of symptoms

170. Inability to enjoy previously enjoyed activities

171. Irrational fears

172. Irritability

173. Overreaction

174. Panic attacks

175. Personality changes –usually a worsening of pervious condition

176. Phobias

177. Suicide attempts

178. Suicidal thoughts

179. Tendency to cry easily

GASTROINTESTINAL

180. Abdominal cramps

181. Bloating

182. Decreased appetite

183. Food cravings

184. Frequent constipation

185. Frequent diarrhea

186. Gerd-like Symptoms

187. Heartburn

188. Increased appetite

189. Intestinal gas

190. Irritable bladder - "Angry Bladder Syndrome"

191. Irritable bowel syndrome - IBS-C, IBS-D

192. Nausea

193. Regurgitation

194. Stomachache

195. Vomiting

196. Weight gain - unexplained

197. Weight loss - unexplained

UROGENITAL

198. Decreased libido (sex drive)

199. Endometriosis

200. Frequent urination

201. Impotence

202. Menstrual problems

203. Painful urination or bladder pain - "Interstitial Cystitis"

204. Pelvic pain

205. Prostate pain

206. Worsening of (or severe) premenstrual syndrome (PMS or PMDD)

SENSITIVITIES

207. Alcohol intolerance

208. Allodynia (hypersensitive to touch)

209. Alteration of taste, smell, and/or hearing

210. Sensitivity to chemicals in cleaning products, perfumes, etc.

211. Sensitivities to foods

212. Sensitivity to light

213. Sensitivity to mold

214. Sensitivity to noise

215. Sensitivity to odors

216. Sensitivity to yeast (getting yeast infections frequently on skin, etc.)

217. Sensory overload

218. Sensitivity to pressure & humidity changes

219. Sensitivity to extreme temperature changes

220. Vulvodynia

SKIN

221. Able to “write” on skin with finger

222. Bruising easily

223. Bumps and lumps

224. Eczema or psoriasis

225. Hot/dry skin

226. Ingrown hairs

227. Itchy/Irritable skin

228. Mottled skin

229. Rashes or sores

230. Scarring easily

231. Sensitivity to the sun

232. Skin suddenly turns bright red

CARDIOVASCULAR (Heart)

233. “Click-murmur” sounds through stethoscope

234. Fluttery heartbeat

235. Heart palpitations

236. Irregular heartbeat

237. Loud pulse in ear

238. Pain that mimics heart attack - "Costochondritis"

239. Rapid heartbeat

HAIR/NAILS

240. Dull, listless hair

241. Heavy and splitting cuticles

242. Irritated nail beds

243. Nails that curve under

244. Pronounced nail ridges

245. Temporary hair loss

OTHER

246. Canker sores

247. Dental problems

248. Disk Degeneration

249. Hemorrhoids

250. Nose bleeds

251. Periodontal (gum) disease

252. Need for early hysterectomy

#fibromyalgia #chronic pain #chronic illness #chronically ill #invisible illness #spoonie #pwd #disability #hidden disability #sharing is caring #disorder #neurological disorder #central nervous system #nervous system disorder #mental health #health #awareness

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the-reverse-mermaid · 9 months ago

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Little known fact, restless leg syndrome is actually a consequence of being a land mermaid who hasn’t transformed in too long so your need to be in tail form is what’s making your legs itchy inside

#hope this helps #fun fact #restless leg syndrome #mermaids

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stellartorment · 2 years ago

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random bnha headcanons because theres worms in my brain. (more under the cut)

- Kaminari, Midoriya, Kirishima, Sero and Hagakure have ADHD

- Kirishima is a gay transman (started transitioning in middle school)

- Midnight is a wlw transwoman

- Shirakumo was pansexual and used he/they pronouns

- Kaminari has lightning scars and does his best to hide them (they're mostly in his back, chest and arms)

- Bakugou genuinely has anger issues and is in the process of getting diagnosed

- Ojiro, Yaoyorozu and Hagakure have body dysmorphia

- Jirou, Bakugou and Present Mic are all either HoH or fully deaf (i.e.: Present Mic has hearing aids and Bakugou needs them as well)

- Uraraka has an anxiety disorder (GAD, likely)

- Iida has restless leg syndrome

- Kaminari gets seizures when he overuses his quirk

- Shinsou, Uraraka, Jirou and Kaminari deal with migraines often

- Shoji and Midoriya have chronic pains

- Mineta got fucking expelled.

- he got his ass beat by like half of the class for the shit he was doing to the girls and some crap he said to Kirishima (who's openly trans)

- Asui, Iida, Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and Yaoyorozu are autistic

- Aoyama is gay and under the nonbinary umbrella

- Bakugou and Midoriya are also transmasc

- Midoriya's first binder was a birthday gift from the Bakugous (Bakugou half-jokingly wanted to make matching All Might binders for them)

- Tokoyami, Bakugou, Jirou, Todoroki and Shinsou often hang out together (either going to Hot Topic or just listening to music)

- the band/Jirousquad play whenever they have free time

- Satou stress bakes (Aizawa has walked in on him baking cakes at 2am several times)

- "... hey Mr Aizawa. Red velvet?" *deep sigh*

- most of the class has nightmares often and it's not new when they're awoken by or run into each other in the middle of the night

- Tokoyami having a nightmare, waking up with a scared Dark Shadow and then deciding to watch TV in the common room VS Asui curled up with a couple blankets on the couch because she also had a nightmare

- Jirou being hyperaware of her classmates' shallow breaths and shakes, feeling bad for not knowing what to do

- Bakugou wakes up the entire dorm by accident because he caused an explosion while waking up from a nightmare

- Koji uses sign language most the time and is semi verbal (autism and anxiety)

- Mirko is a lesbian

- Mr Compress is mlm

- Shinsou goes to sleep at 5am while Midoriya wakes up at 5am

- Shinsou, Kaminari, Tokoyami, Uraraka and Yaoyorozu are insomniacs

- Magne was like a big sister to Dabi (and he misses her. it was nice to know what it would've felt like to be the little sibling.)

- Bakugou is (stubbornly) teaching himself sign language

- Midoriya, Present Mic, Aizawa also know sign language (the Bakusquad are getting lessons from Midoriya)

- Monoma is on the aromantic spectrum

- Midoriya uses wrist braces and needs a cane (All Might and Recovery Girl are trying to get him to)

- Bakugou also needs wrist braces but refuses to get them

- Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Bakugou are "Rich Kids With Family Issues" solidarity

- Natsuo used to the dye bits of red in his hair, but as he grew older, the red stopped growing

- it reminded him of Touya and he couldn't look in the mirror for the longest time

- Sero dislocates his shoulders often

- class 1a are banned from playing dodgeball (Recovery Girl had a really busy day the one time they played it)

- Todoroki and Yaoyorozu are gay-lesbian solidarity

- Kirishima, Uraraka, Tetsutetsu and Bakugou are gym buddies

- Midoriya learned English because of All Might

- Bakugou, Jirou, Kaminari and Shinsou are also fluent in English

- Midnight talked to Ashido, Yaoyorozu and Hagakure about their hero costumes and if they were truly comfortable wearing them; they ended up getting they fixed

- Shinsou sometimes uses his quirk to brainwash his classmates into doing self care

- "What're you doing, Sero?" "Oh, not much, just-" "Go drink water."

- Monoma, Midoriya, Kirishima, Denki and Bakugou have imposter syndrome

- if Yaoyorozu is caught off guard, she creates tiny figurines by accident

- Aizawa has had to catch Uraraka with his capture weapon a few times due to her sleep floating

- Shiozaki has extreme religious guilt

- Present Mic does his hair up while in his hero costume out of spite because high school kids used to make fun of Aizawa's hair when he used his quirk

- Kendo is bisexual

- she/they Fuyumi. you agree. reblog

- class 1a has sleepovers sometimes; blanket forts, movies, snacks, everything!

- (Aizawa knows and allows it every time. they deserve and need to be kids)

- sometimes they invite class 1b as well

- Monoma, Shinsou and Midoriya get along well to everyone's surprise

- Kirishima once ran into Dabi while buying hairdye but it was his day off and it looked like it was Dabi's day off too so he just pretended he never saw him grab a box of jetblack hairdye, shove it in his hoodie pocket and leave

- for the sake of his own sanity

- Hagakure can 'turn her quirk off' but only does so when she feels completely safe and comfortable, or when she's totally worn out

- when she did it for the first time around the rest od the class everyone was shocked

- "... is something wr-" "YOU'RE SO PRETTY???,?"

- Ashido, Uraraka and Kaminari hold Shoji's hands while crossing the street (mostly for fun, but he doesn't mind)

- Kaminari absent mindedly braided the hair on Ojiro's tail one day and he just let him

- Koji's bunny is an emotional support animal named Cotton

- Shigaraki decays door handles on purpose just to mess with the rest of the LOV

- he gets bored, okay?

- Aizawa teaches Eri sign language as a surprise for Mic (as well just so Eri has a way to communicate when she doesn't feel comfortable talking)

- Uraraka makes a casual comment about not having enough money to buy something for herself or her parents and Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Bakugou hand her their credit cards like its nothing

- she is startled by that Every Time without fail

- Twice and Toga paint each other's nails

- Mr Compress lets Twice borrow his masks sometimes

- Himiko is a vegetarian, funnily enough

- Mt. Lady has chronic pains and stretch marks

- Bakugou has scars and burns from his own explosions (he wasn't born with perfect control over his quirk, and sometimes he takes his anger out on himself)

- Fuyumi and Natsuo's quirks are extremely powerful ice quirks, but Endeavor never bothered to train them and never let Rei teach them how to control their quirks

- while Fuyumi has Frost, Natsuo's quirk is called Subzero; he can lower his body temperature dangerously low and when he does so, whatever he touches freezes

- if he's emotional or focused enough, he can create icicles and wield them

- Todoroki considered dying his hair several times (black was on top of the list but after Dabi revealed he was Touya, he decided against it)

- the LOV took turns helping Dabi dye his hair

- Kurogiri helped Dabi with his staples (the only other person willing to do that was Himiko but everyone agreed it was a bad ideia)

- Spinner sticks around Dabi during winter because he's a human heater

- no one in the LOV liked Overhaul

- like, killing Magne was bad enough. but straight up child abuse? come on

- they know what it's like to be a kid and to be scared and hurt and they don't want that

- Himiko has nervous tics

- Hatsume is autistic and will infodump about her babies to anyone that will listen

- she and Midoriya infodump to each other

- sometimes, Kurogiri's gaze lingers on the morning sky. he finds clouds strangely amusing for some reason

- Aizawa and Present Mic have been together since they were 17 and have been married for nearly six years (they wear their rings on necklaces underneath their clothes)

- they officially adopted Eri first, then Shinsou

- (It's Free Real State Children)

- "I'm having another kid." "That's great, sensei-" "it's you. Mic and I have the papers already."

- Bakugou, Iida and Yaoyorozu tutor the class before tests

- Kaminari has dyscalculia and dyslexia

- Satou always has snacks on him (especially ones the made himself)

- he keeps an eye on Yaoyorozu and makes sure to give her something if he notices she's looking particularly pale

- most if not the whole class 1a has PTSD (this doesn't shock anyone. Aizawa is desperately trying to get them to talk to Hound Dog sometime)

- Aizawa needs reading glasses and refuses to wear them

- Aizawa and Present Mic & Midnight share custody of Sushi unironically (the cat Shirakumo rescued)

- Aizawa and Mic own other cats (Mochi and Tessie) (it's short for Tshirt, Mic thought it was funny)

- Iida and Yaoyorozu were at Aizawa and Mic's wedding due to their family status, everyone else was clueless to their marriage

- no one was aware they adopted Eri and Shinsou though

- like yeah Aizawa-sensei's taking care of Eri, BUT ADOPTION??

- "oh, Shinsou's in our class- HITOSHI AIZAWA-YAMADA?"

- Aizawa may have only two (2) legal children but by god does he love his other nineteen little bastards.

- Iida made a groupchat for class 1a for "school purposes" but it quickly descended into madness and he gave up

- the gc is now named something incoherent and incomprehensible and there's like seven other chats for different purposes (such as "dekusquad", "bakusquad", "the band" and "is this fucked up or are all parents like this?")

- Iida and Yaoyorozu keep note of everyone's allergies

- so does Aizawa

- Yaoyorozu has a bad relationship with food and often has trouble using her quirk due to it

- Tetsutetsu is a stealth transman (only Kirishima is vaguely aware)

- Kuroiro was extremely afraid of the dark as a child

- Ashido gets acid burns often (they're not too bad and mostly in her hands, but if it's a particularly bad day, she gets burns in her face)

- Kirishima has trouble walking/moving in general when he overuses his quirk

- Present Mic is mlm

- Aizawa is a gay transman

- Jirou and Kaminari are both bisexual

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velvet-paradox · 2 years ago

Text

Heartstrings (Part One)

Fandom: Sleep Token (Band) Pairing: eventual Vessel x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: Memories haunt our beloved frontman, some he'd like to forget and some he's been hiding. Warnings: eventual NSFW, 18 + ONLY, strong language, tobacco use, alcohol consumption, supernatural (no, not the show) element, a twisted little game. Tagging: @synnersaint as always, @megangovier20

NOTES: I’ll be reposting to @roman-is-a-horse as well as that’s my little hole in the wall for all things masked men and Sleep Token

ENJOY!!!

He's exhausted. He's all sweat and grit, dirt beneath his fingernails, mud on his boots.

He could care less.

What he needed was sleep. Glorious, pillow soft sleep. And the deity let him.

He dreamt of monkey bars, chipped green paint, orange creme popsicles, a dizzy tire swing blurring in the distance, a familiar face hanging upside down from a wound up swing set. The air is light and the sun is high. He learned why ancient Egyptians rimmed their eyes with kohl. Learned the proper pronunciation for Persephone. Had his first kiss. Got into his first of many, fist fights and tasted blood and why you don't pick at knuckle scabs. The taste of woodchips.

And then he met you.

Vessel woke with a jolt, restless leg syndrome, jerking him at the worst of times but helpful on the stage.

"You're pretty when you cry." That silky voice that lulled him to the dreamworld sang down to him. Above his head, resting oh so carefully upon his pillow was Sleep, taking the form of a smoky red cat with six black slits for eyes. The deity grinned sharp, bone white fangs before leaping into the air at Vessel's recognition that he was indeed crying, his cheeks and lips streaked with salt. Sleep hung in the air above him, wagging its tail.

"Bad dream?" Sleep asked, resting its face on its paws like some teenager, coiling the phone cord, awaiting the latest hallway gossip.

"I'm fine," Vessel sniffled and turned on his side, an attempt to ignore his maker.

Sleep rolled onto its' back, little red paws pointing up to the ceiling before floating in front of his face and purred. "That's not what I asked."

Vessel blamed it on his uncomfortableness, the bed was cold and the sheets icy against his bare legs. Sleep wasn't buying it, squinting all six eyes at him as he tossed and turned for the rest of the night. ....

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, brother, get used to it."

"You big troll, that's the last can!"

"Watch it you little gremlin or I'll step on you and put you out like a light."

Brotherly threats floated up stairs along with the smell of someone cooking breakfast. Cinnamon butter, scrambled eggs, no doubt since his heathen brothers refused to eat them any other way. Roasted earthy mushrooms, peppered bacon.

Vessel clung to the staircase watching three others maneuver around someone's rented home in the highlands. Through a large bay window he could make out the silky green grass and sparkling yellow daffodils dancing in the wind.

SpaghettiOs.

III and IV were giving II shit in between grabbing plates, poor thing was jumping up and missing terribly the can of the tomato sauced rings. Vessel shook his head and jumped down the last two steps before they all stuttered to a stop, III hid the can behind his back as if he were about to be scolded.

"Never gets old, huh?" He asked and snagged a piece of less burnt bacon.

"Not a chance." III resumed his taunts until II gave up, growling low in his throat and angrily shut off the stovetop, marching outside into the daylight.

"Package came for you this morning." IV mumbled through a mouthful of eggs as he found him out on the porch swing. Vessel took the box with more questions than answers.

"Who knows we're here?"

IV shrugged and joined him on the bench, crossing his legs as the wooden slats swayed.

Vessel looked it over. Just a standard brown box, wrapped in a weeks worth of clear packing tape. Just several stamps -international corners, a beating or two in a mail office dented one of the boxes sides. He took the switchblade IV handed him, scoring the edged until it came loose.

He shook whatever was hidden, another box came tumbling out into his lap along with a folded piece of cardstock. He handed it over. Though as he dug around inside, he should've looked at the note first because IV's eyes, already on the large spectrum, had bloomed into bright blue saucers.

"What? What is it?"

"Look and see."

Vessel dropped the note to the ground as it were on fire. Explosive. A grenade of nostalgia and pain, if not sudden death.

ARE YOU GAME?

No.

No no no no no.

He could feel IV's eyes on him as he fumbled with the spare box, careful with the folds, peeling back the layers on carefully placed and wrapped tissue paper. His fingers ghosted over the jewelry or what was left of it before holding it up in the afternoon sun.

Vessel began to panic, anxiety was never far from him as he thumbed over one of the personally laid coins like a treasured rosary and if he were totally honest; it was just that. ....

Vessel had recently gotten into a band called Immortal the previous summer, expressing himself in a similar manner of covering his face (still experimenting with paint on his hands, he was always on the look out for the best greasepaint his first high school job could afford), in black and white paint, cut off jackets and ripped denim. Had attempted to look as cool as possible with a cigarette behind his ear. He never smoked it, just toyed with his mothers' addiction. The girls dug it so there was always that.

His friends chased squirrels until the popular girls noticed them, could've been a dare, could've been a prank but that didn't stop them from turning and chasing them instead. Their shrills squeals of laughter sang through the halls, tickled pink for attention in the back of classrooms.

The boys had ditched him once again as they left him at the playground, holding on to his bullet belt as he made his way, by foot, across town towards his job. He was going to be late, but the owner of the coffee shop couldn't care less; he was probably a few beers in as it was only three that Saturday afternoon.

Louie could really pound them down.

He was almost there when he stopped short. There on a park bench were a pair of shapely legs. Just sitting there in the air. Torn fishnets with shin high striped socks and boots, scuffed and beat up, much like his own when he looked down.

He crept by slowly, curious if they were a mannequin's legs or if they were real or, God forbid they were just that. No body attached! How scandalous!

A murderer on the loose and Vessel would be the first witness to the crime. His stomach had flipped at that.

But still, the young man proceeded forward, cautiously now as he left his usual path and got closer, squinting when he saw one of the ankles twitch.

Vessel made calculated steps around he bench and saw- gratefully of course, that the legs were indeed attached to a body, the body of a girl his age that he'd never seen before. She was laying upside down with her eyes closed, arms bent and on the ground beneath her head so she wouldn't roll off and crack her skull. An opened can of SpaghettiOs sat next to her, along with a sad looking purse.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing, smart guy? 'm thinkin'." Was her response. She didn't even bother to open her eyes and acknowledged him. Foreigner for sure, he thought.

"Upside down?"

"I get all the cobwebs out better this way," then she cracked one eyes open, searching for him in this state and she smiled, the brightest smile he'd ever seen on a person. Stunning. Absolutely fucking stellar. "You should try it."

"Doesn't all the blood rush to your head like that?" Vessel turned his head to see her face better.

"That's the point, silly! When my brain talks to much the best way to shut her up is to rush her out, let her out. Come on, try it. There's plenty of room." She quipped and wiggled over in the bench, using her hands for leverage.

Vessel looked at his watch; twenty minutes until his shift started and he'd need to be there and get his apron on and punch in his timecard and Louie might not be drunk and waiting for him patently at the doors with a pained expression and angry, uncaffeinated patron waiting to get their fix.

He had trouble moving his body and wincing when one of the bullets jabbed his hip bone, but all in all he managed her similar position. Fucking wild. His jacket creaked when he moved his hands to the earth below, mimicking her position.

"Good job. Now watch me. Just breathe in and out like this, don't think about anything other than that and you'll be clear as a Koi fish pond."

He frowned but went along with it, looking at her as instructed he slowly shut his eyes, long legs growing tired he let them hang over the back of the bench instead and controlled his breathing.

He wasn't thinking about school or work, his thesis he had yet to start that was due in two weeks time. Not what he was going to have for dinner or which skirt II was trying to get under this week. Probably Jessica. II was always after Jessica.

"See. How do you feel now?" She asked.

Vessel couldn't even answer her at first, too caught up in the sensations, more aware of her perfume when his senses kicked into overdrive with his heartbeat pounding in his ears like this.

"Weightless. Clear." He mumbled.

"Exactly."

Then her hand was on his, carefully he opened his eyes and his world felt like his house of cards were about to tumble down if he breathed too loudly.

"I'm Y/N." ....

He thought about you as he ran the rest of the way to coffee shop, the little blue and white striped awning coming into view as his boots pounded pavement. He was just seconds away from being late, clocking in just in time and wrapping a brown apron around his jacket in the backroom.

He thought about as he rang up a pretty dark skinned girl, fresh faced and smiling at him.

He thought about you when a crotchety old woman barked her order and waited too close to the counter until he could brew it, which she made him do it twice. He thought about you when a regular by the name of Johnny Two-Step came in, grooving to the beat of whatever song which was playing softly in the background.

He thought about you on the walk home, every park bench he passed by, with his hands in his pockets were shockingly empty.

Would he ever see you again?

Where you from? What were you doing here in this small seaside town? And why were you eating cold SpaghettiOs right from the can like a cat with a tin of tuna? ....

"Straight from the can?!" III asked the following day, sitting on his roof with an open notebook, ready for some action along with a stolen can of his father's beer. It would go unnoticed. They always went unnoticed.

III's dad would give a shrug and mumble about needing to slow down though he never did, he just went out and bought more, stocking the fridge in the garage for the next day.

"Never seen anything like it."

"I would hope not! Sounds like she's a screw or two loose."

"Maybe."

Maybe you did. Maybe you were what his mother would call 'quirky' or carefree, the possibility of being a hellion might be written in the stars for you too. Either way Vessel was into it.

"No no no, that's not how you do it. Here, you're just gonna' make a mess of it. Now look, you take the can like this..."

Vessel couldn't help be drawn into the kitchen of a house party a few weeks later, he'd toyed with the cigarette again, holding between his two front teeth as some girl in an obscenely short dress chatted him up outside. He told her to hold that thought and maneuvered through the bodies. Sweat and beer lingered on the air, music pulsed and couples and a possible throuple but Vessel's standards were making out in a dim corner.

The snap of a beer can had him joining the little circle around the sink. A few guys cheered. A few girls made noises, he couldn't decipher whether it was a good or a bad thing at the moment.

Vessel towered over the group, watching II wipe his mouth over the sink before slipping his trusty balaclava back up over his nose. He saw someone and when he looked, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in an instant.

It was you.

It was really you!

You cheered in delight, gave him a high five and grinned.

"Whose next? How about you pretty lady?" You waved Jessica over, who was shy at first but followed your lead in her pink and yellow bellbottoms and halter top.

After your next shotgun you hugged Jessica who looked worse for wear and slumped against II who was more than happy to help her stand and move out out of the kitchen. II passed him in the doorway, giving him a fist bump to the shoulder, talking to his love interest, lost in the haze of beer and clouds of weed smoke.

"You! There you are you big tall drink of water."

Vessel turned just in time to see you, focused and barreling straight towards him, a look of drunken excitement on your face. You weren't stopping and then you were lunging at him, embracing him in a hug that should feel all sorts of foreign and wrong but... was welcomed and warm and you smell like floral perfume and beer foam.

You looked up at him with silly grin. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. Having a bit of fun I see."

"Wanna' shotgun a beer with me?"

"Maybe later. How many have you had already?"

You made a goofy sound in your throat, released his waist and took his wrist in your hands, dragging him outside. Something made of glass shattered somewhere inside the house as you two ducked out and sat down in a little gazebo on the property. Vines and little white flowers coiled up and around the lattice.

"You gonna' smoke that?" You asked, digging those same weathered boots into the dirt.

"You want it?"

"Can I share it with you?"

"You can have it. I actually don't smoke."

Your expressions ranged and rivaled those of a comic strip as you looked at him. "What the what?! You don't smoke, yet you just casually have a cigarette behind your ear?"

Vessel shrugged. "It's just an accessory at this point."

"Next thing you'll be telling me is you're not a real jester!"

"A jester?"

"The makeup! You're not a clown either? Some practicing mime? Although if you were a mime you wouldn't be talking, would you?" You drunkenly mused and Vessel wondered how many beers you’d already rushed into your bloodstream.

Vessel snorted and shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm just a guy."

"A handsome guy." You huffed and lit up the cigarette, leaning back on your elbows as you smoked.

Vessel snorted, unaffected by the tobacco hanging around your heads as you both looked up at the moon. Tethered to it's soft glow over the treetops. "I've been called a lot of things, but handsome ain't one of them."

You bolted upright, cigarette renting space between your teeth and burning his eyes as you grabbed his face like you were old friends.

"That's a damn shame. I'm going to make it my mission to tell you everyday I see you how good you look. Even if you are talking mime!"

Part Two Part Three

#look friends #i don't know what to tell ya #i got an idea in the middle of the night and haven't been able to put it down #vessel is so fun to write for bc... POSSIBLITLIES DUH!#anyway this will have some supernatural elements #as i'm making sleep into a figure that vessel can see and interact with #let me have my fun ok??#sleep token imagine #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #sleep token fan fic #sleep token fic #vessel x you #vessel x reader #vessel x female reader #vessel imagine #the characters involved are not mine ofc #except the random oc's i'm seasoning in

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