#the only thing I can do is try to distract myself until I can move enough to get up

[an-annyeoing-writer]

idol!Baekhyun x fan!Reader: truth be told.

Word count: 2382

Date of release: 11th November, 2024

Genre: angst, slice of life, half ounce of a fluff, established relationships, mentions of break up and dysfunctional relationships, way too much emotional yapping as for barely any plot.

I'm as surprised as y'all that I wrote something like this. You know, no vampires, no action, no one's actively dying? It's very much not my kind of writing, but I was feeling very emotional at the time. Just don't get used to it.

„It’s not good for you. I don’t think it’s good for me. It’s not healthy for either of us.”

He felt as if the knife you were cutting vegetables with cut right through his heart as well. You deliberately distracted yourself with the activity while he stood nearby, staring at you blankly, but not knowing how to respond.

In the recent weeks, he felt the two of you falling apart. It was like an avalanche that started with a small rock which he didn’t notice at the time, but which escalated into a disaster. Talking less, avoiding meeting up, and until today – the day you announced, as gently as you could, that you wanted to move out and live on your own. You said that it’s just because you want to become more independent, that you shouldn’t rely on him this much. But what will his apartment feel like without you? Your presence here, doing small things such as cutting vegetables, became a staple part of his life.

“Are you still talking about living together? Or about… us?”

Your movements were more frantic than he knew you for. With one a bit too sudden of a motion, the blade cut through the skin of your finger, and you let out a low murmur to cover up the hiss of pain, putting the finger to your lip in mild annoyance. It was more than clear that the cut was not the only reason behind your frustration.

Baekhyun didn’t move.

In any other situation, he would react – mock you a bit for being clumsy while being the first one to bring the first aid kid, maybe pretend to be a vampire struck by the scent of your blood, maybe even panic a little in this cute, puppy-like way if he felt that the amount of blood is greater than acceptable.

But now he didn’t, and it sparked a bit of hurt in you as well, but also brought your attention to the fact that maybe dismissing things and try to make them gentle only worsened the pain that would eventually come. The anxiety of the future that you exposed him to was not like the boil-the-frog that you planned to perform. You wanted to avoid confrontation for as long as necessary, until things dropped naturally. You didn’t expect him to hold onto it.

“Can you be honest with me? Are you able to?” His tone started to show that he, too, was growing frustrated. “Tell me what’s going on. Did something happen? I’m sorry if I can’t catch the clues, but if you made it obvious, then I’m just plain stupid.”

“Nothing… happened. And I’m sorry, I didn’t make it obvious. I didn’t know, how.”

He frowned ever so slightly, taking a step towards you. You backed against the kitchen counter, placing your hands on each side – your finger stung a little, but it was merely a scratch. The real wound was growing in your soul.

“If nothing happened, then why? Did you grow bored of me?”

“Of you?”

“Yeah. Please be honest with me. Just no more sweeting things up, alright?”

His tone was calm, but it lacked softness, it was almost business-like.

“I don’t know how anyone would get bored of you, Baekhyun” you admitted in a breathless whisper. You were starting to feel foolish, really. “And especially myself. That’s why I don’t think I can take it. I don’t think it’s fair to you. But I’m also not fair to myself. You just mean… too much to me.”

 “Too much?” The frown of the man’s face only deepened. “Why is something telling me I should not feel flattered?” A bit of frustration was slipping into his own tone as well.

You let out a deep sigh.

“I started off as your fan, Baekhyun. I thought that with time, it’ll be more… normal. That you’ll feel like a normal person. But somehow it’s not like that. Somehow… it feels like my life is even more about you than it was before. I feel like a creep. Like I’m using you to fulfill a fantasy.”

“Are you?”

“No!” You denied right away, but your voice faltered. “I… don’t know.” You crossed your arms on your chest, fixating your gaze somewhere down below.

To your surprise, Baekhyun let out a breathy laugh. The laughter didn’t feel light and cheerful, like his usual ones – it was heavied with worry, with some sort of underlying agony.

“Okay, let’s talk about this. We need to talk about this.”

His hand reached towards you and he pulled you by your arm, almost throwing you off balance when he pulled you towards the living room, snatching a paper towel on his way and putting it into your still bleeding hand. “You’re right. Do you think I didn’t consider it? That this wouldn’t work out? That it would feel fake? Heck, I talked to so many friends about it, and most of them said it’s not a good idea. But you know what?” He pushed you onto the couch and sat himself on the stool, bringing it close so that your knees almost touched – if only you let yourself relax, they would rest against each other naturally, but you were stiff and trying to almost shrink within yourself. “You know what? I’ve known you for a year. And I could always trust you. You’ve had so many chances to take advantage of me, and you didn’t. So I don’t want to think about how you could – potentially – hurt me. But we need to talk about the other part.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious that…”

“No, no. You’re thinking about what it’s like, for me, to date a fan.” He didn’t even let you finish, but it was as if he could read your mind, already knowing your thought process. “I want you to be honest and tell me what it’s like to date an idol. Because you’re right, you could be using me. But you also said it’s not good for you. And you’re right, because I could be using you, too. So be honest with me and tell me if I ever hurt you.”

So many memories came flooding at once – not of pain, not at all, but of all things that could have led to one tragedy or another. Your whole relationship, like a videotape.

Sure, your relationship was not always perfect. Barely a year has passed. Not long enough to develop a deep understanding of each other, but long enough for many things to happen, to get to know each other at least.

Not all of it was beautiful. There were arguments, some of which almost ended in a breakup. But they made you stronger, that much was undeniable – with each and every single time you almost fell apart, it felt like you knew each other a bit better, knew what things not to do and not to say, but which helped to soothe the atmosphere and help you get back along.

You had one, most important rule in your relationship.

That no matter what happened between the two of you, you would play fair.

That one time he lied to you about being at work while he was not – that one hurt. When you found out he’s not at the office in the first place, you even thought he was cheating. Wouldn’t that be understandable to assume in such a situation? You had every chance to cause a scandal on spot. But you didn’t. You knew that pulling his whole career down because of your relationship wouldn’t be fair. No matter how much it hurt, it was completely out of the equation.

It turned out he was with his friends – he really wanted to go out, but felt bad for not giving you much attention these days. You felt almost pitiful, seeing him crumble in front of you, all worried that you will feel like he doesn’t want you, when he genuinely didn’t have that much time, and it was just one evening with friends. You smacked him in the head for feeling bad about spending time with friends. And he learned that he can be honest with you.

Another time, you were all excited upon his album release. Seeing him on the stage later on made you feel all kinds of things, the way he moved, all the effects, clothing, makeup – all putting emphasis on his heavenly physique, as if you were watching an angel dance. He came back home disheveled, with remains of makeup on his face, but as excited as you were. You would give all of you to him at that exact moment, more than he would ask for, more than you would feel confident to give any other time.

But it was still early in the relationship, and Baekhyun knew that you weren’t ready. That, drunk on him as you were, you could regret it later, even feel disgusted with giving yourself in this easily, that your gentle mind wouldn’t be able to trust yourself with your own body. So he indulged you with kisses here and there, and then gently tucked you into bed, making sure that it all went smoothly, that it didn’t feel anything like a rejection, but a gesture of utmost care.

It took a few more months before you opened yourself to him fully, and he never rushed or reminded you of how eager you were back then. He could have had it all back then, but he decided to wait. That’s how you learned he’s more selfless than you ever even aspired to be.

“You didn’t” you spoke after what felt like ages, to the point you wondered if you even responded to the correct question. “You didn’t… hurt me. Did I ever hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t. You’re just hurting yourself all the time” he mentioned, jokingly motioning towards your hand, which you wiped hastily with the paper towel. “So if nothing bad happened, why the ifs? You realize it’s not going to stop if we just break up?” It was a rhetorical question, and you glanced up at him with a pout, feeling almost schooled by the way he talked. “You believe it’s a matter of just us, but, as much as it sounds ridiculous to say it, it’s all in your head. No matter who you’re with, you’re going to assume the worst. Won’t it be like that? Be honest with yourself.”

You crossed your arms again, feeling defiant for a moment, because his words were almost too much for your ego to take.

But there was some small part of you, somewhere at the edge of your consciousness, that not only knew that he’s correct, but also wanted it to be correct – because if it was just you, then you could learn to maybe keep those pessimistic parasites at bay, and… you wouldn’t have to suffer the loss that, despite weeks of preparation, didn’t feel like any less of a torment and regret that would come, were you to finish things as you originally intended.

All the beliefs, all the dogmas, that you carefully built over the past weeks, were falling apart in front of your eyes, confronted with very simple logic on Baekhyun’s end. You almost felt stupid for letting things get this far without confronting him earlier. Weren’t you the one who demanded honesty? Wasn’t he the one who proved you can trust him with your vulnerability?

“I’m… sorry.”

You felt yourself fall apart as well. Your body slumped down, relaxed knees rested against Baekhyun’s, and he put his hands on top of your thighs, as if in this exact moment, while knowing that he has you with him, he didn’t want to risk losing you again.

“Don’t be for feeling like that, things are never easy, now are they?” Here it was – the signature smile, the warm one that tore through the clouds of the darkest of your days, warm and welcoming. “But I am upset that you held it from me for so long” he whined. With the whine, he finally moved from the stool and onto the couch next to you. His arms shamelessly snuck around you, engulfing you in the close embrace that you knew so well, felt so good within. Partially pulling you into him, and partially leaning into the back of your shoulder, Baekhyun released a long sigh against the skin of your back, warm air slipping underneath your blouse – you missed it. You almost didn’t realize how distant the two of you became, and how long has it been since you felt his body against yours. But now, despite all of that, it felt good, it felt right. As if your souls have never detached from each other.

Maybe there was some form of destiny between the two of you; maybe it was not just a parasocial relationship that evolved into something that could turn dysfunctional so, so easily – maybe it was written in the stars that one way or another, the two of you would find each other, and it just so happened that you spotted him first, from afar, slowly making your way.

How else would the two of you find each other, after all?

Maybe you learned something this time, too. Maybe it wasn’t much, just the beginning of a stronger, even more intimate bond that would last years and years, and light years, and through all your reincarnations, with some of them as pitiful as they could be. Maybe it was just an accident that this time you were in such a position – in another life, would you be a princess, and he be a peasant?

But these were only some other ifs, fun to think about, but not worth spilling your heart over.

In this life, in this universe, you were his, and he was yours. And everything else was just more or less accidental circumstances that brought you closer together.

Only at the back of your head, you wondered if one day, the tale of hopes and stars would fall, and that dream would turn into a nightmare, fueled by your lives’ imbalance and selfishness that neither of you knew in each other.

Maybe you just didn’t have to think about it just yet.

[running-in-the-dark]

I've been having extra awful nightmares lately. my regular nightmares are already bad enough 😭

I think it's because I get too hot (it's very cold at the moment, and I never remember to turn on the radiator in the bedroom before I go to bed, so then I need a second duvet and eventually I get too hot)

but ugggh it sucks so much to wake up from that. it's like my brain stores everything that really terrifies me for these nightmares. it's gory, it's psychological horror, it's everything that really scares me. great!

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[barcaatthemoon]

glass || alexia putellas x reader ||

you and alexia get tired of having to be so careful around each other.

alexia knew that there was a lot mentally that went into having a partner like you. she had been your friend for years before the two of you made the decision to start a romantic relationship. you had always been a very emotional person, taking everything to heart even if it wasn't personal. alexia understood that there was a certain tact that had to be used whenever you hit a depressive episode.

for the most part, alexia had mastered how to take care of you when things got bad. she would have walked away from football completely for you, and almost had before. she had taken little breaks, only as much time as you'd allow her. now though, she was torn between doing what you wanted and what she felt was right.

everything that you were going through, alexia went through with you. if you were suffering in silence, then she sat there trying to figure out how to help you. you wanted her to move on, but she couldn't go forward without making sure that you were following her. it had caused quite a few fights, and was why alexia was currently losing her mind at her sister's while she waited for you to text her.

"alexia, you're going to pace a hole right through the floor," alba said, hopeful that her words would distract alexia a bit. "if you are so worried about (y/n), why don't you just go over there? it's your house too."

"she asked for some space, alba. i don't want to crowd her," alexia said. it was very decisive, and alba wished that alexia would have stuck with it. instead, the woman was up and pacing around again before she finally stormed off to get you. alba hadn't been a fan of having alexia there instead of with you, but you had actually asked for alexia to leave for the night. in alexia's mind, now that it was morning, she was free to come check on you.

it wasn't that alexia didn't trust you because there was nobody else in the world that she trusted more. alexia was just scared that you'd get reckless. most of the time when you hurt yourself, it was an accident. it was when you threw caution to the wind that alexia truly got scared.

"(y/n)? it's me, alexia. i'm here to get some things and see how you're doing!" alexia called out into the apartment. you smiled a little to yourself as you walked out of the kitchen. alexia's face dropped as she saw you holding a kitchen towel over your hand. "what happened?"

"it's fine, i was just trying to make something for breakfast. i was going to call you over, but i was never good at cutting the meat." you were far more relaxed about this than alexia was. she rushed over to inspect your cut as it flowed blood into the towel.

"i can't leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can i?" alexia sounded angry. every movement she made was overly aggressive as she dragged you to the bathroom to clean you up.

"alexia, i can take care of myself," you tried to tell her. you tried to break away from her, which snapped alexia out of whatever little mood she had been in. "it's fine. i mean, i'm fine, so it's okay. it was an accident, you'd know that if you had let me get a word in."

"it's not just this, but i am sorry. i reacted badly," alexia apologized. she leaned back against the sink as she watched you wrap your hand. "we should go to the hospital for that."

"it's just a cut. you opened it when you grabbed my wrist like that, give it a moment and it'll stop," you told her. alexia sighed as she tried to move towards you. you flinched away, and alexia swore that she felt her heart shatter in her chest. "i'm going to clean up in the kitchen. i'm not very hungry anymore."

"no, (y/n) wait! go in the living room, i'll make us breakfast," alexia offered. you wanted to just crawl into bed and forget about the world until training, but alexia wouldn't let that happen. you walked past her wordlessly and settled on the couch, watching from there as alexia moved around the kitchen to finish breakfast. it was pretty obvious to her what you had started, so with a bit of difficulty, alexia finished.

"it looks good, you didn't burn the eggs this time," you complimented. alexia turned slightly, just enough to hide her plate from you. truthfully, you could smell the bit of egg that had definitely burnt, but you didn't want to pick any fights with alexia. you didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

"i'm sorry that i got angry earlier. i want you to know that i wasn't mad at you, i was just scared. alba told me not to stay the night, that i should march my sorry ass back here and just stay in my office. i only came back here because i was scared when you hadn't said good morning. i tried to do things right by you, but instead, i fucked up. i'm mad at myself," alexia explained.

"i'm mad that you don't trust me anymore. maybe you never did, but you were better at hiding it then. now, it's like we're both trying to dance with broken glass all over the floor. you're graceful and agile, but i keep stomping on the pieces and making it worse."

"then let's be up front about it. we'll stop pretending that the glass isn't there. i get scared when you stop caring because what if something happens and you don't try to stop it? you could leave without me, but i couldn't live with myself if something happened to you." you glanced over at alexia, who was fully crying now. there had once been a time when you'd have burst into sympathetic tears, but now all you felt was guilt. you felt awful about yourself for scaring her like this, even if none of it was on purpose. "talk to me, please."

"i'll be more careful. it's not for myself right now, it's for you, but that's one hell of a reason to take care of myself. i'll go through the proper steps to try and get better. it's not fair after i've been like this to just ask you to trust me when i wouldn't trust myself. i made this mess, and i'm happy that you aren't going to make me clean it up by myself."

"thank you," alexia mumbled as she leaned over to press a kiss to the side of your forehead. you settled back against the couch with one of her arms around your shoulders. alexia picked at her plate until you gave her half of yours and put in an order for delivery.

[babyfoxflower]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Chapter One Next

Alastor looked up at the now darkening sky. It was getting late and the only thing he managed to find on his hunt were a few measly rabbits that he stuffed into his hunting sack to make carrying multiple of them easier.

“At least we can make a stew out of these,” the disappointment clear in his voice.

He was hoping he’d find a nice big stag to bring home. His mother was quite fond of venison, and even had a special jambalaya recipe that included it. But he knew what ever she made would be delicious.

He took off his glasses and gave them a quick cleaning, he forgot his cleaning cloth at home and had to use his shirt. A bad habit he knew, but it was better than nothing.

He straightened them back onto his face, “Alright, time to go home.”

He started his way back, humming to distract himself from the lousy feeling in his chest.

“GOD DAMNIT!!!” A voice yelled from deeper in the forest.

Alastor stopped dead in his tracks.

That sounds like a lady. I wonder if she needs help.

His gentleman nature would not allow him to ignore a damsel in distress, so he set off in the direction of the voice.

“FOR HEAVENS SAKE! MOVE YOU DAMN STAG!”

Alastor was taken aback when he finally found the source of the noise. It was a woman alright, but a woman who did not match the voice that was coming from her mouth.

She was so beautiful, that Alastor almost couldn’t believe his eyes. He had never seen such a lovely creature in all of his twenty-three years of living. He blinked his eyes a few times to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Please, move,” a little whimper escaped from the lady, which snapped him back to reality.

She seemed to be trying to pull a stag with what looked like a makeshift pulling device made out of rope and twigs.

“Excuse me, Miss. Do you need some help with that?” Alastor asked her, while approaching slowly as to not frighten her.

She jumped at the sudden noise before quickly turning her head around to see who was there.

“Oh, thank god! Yes please, Mister. Could you please help me if it’s not too much trouble?” A look of relief on her pretty face.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I’m always willing to help out a lady,” he smiled kindly.

“You’re too kind, Mister! I was scared that I would never be able to get this thing back, haha.”

“May I ask how you ended up in this predicament? Did you find this stag dead?” He queried.

“I shot this stag myself,” she motioned her head to the rifle in her hand that he somehow managed to not notice until she pointed it out.

Hmm, must have been too distracted by her beauty.

“Ah I see. Please forgive me, Sweetheart. I didn’t notice your gun. And might I also ask about this contraption?” He pointed to the device.

“Oh! I just threw it together, I thought it would make it easier for me to move this damn thing, but it did nothing,” she glared at it.

Alastor shook his head, “You ladies are quite clever, far more clever than men. But sometimes, however, you need a man’s strength,” he said while easily lifting the large animal over his shoulder.

She blushed, marveling at him, at how strong he was, “I can’t argue with that.”

She led the way to her house, making small talk.

“So, what’s your name, Mister?” She asked, smiling softly.

He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten to introduce himself, his mother would scold him if she was here.

“Alastor. Alastor Hartfelt. And what might your name be, my dear?”

“Y/n Rosier. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alastor!”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady. I assure you that the pleasure is all mine,” he replied.

Y/n blushed, she had rarely been called beautiful by anyone outside of her family.

“You’re quite beautiful, yourself! I’ve never seen anyone with such a pretty complexion before, and your eyes, they’re such a lovely light brown, not to mention your chestnut hair…did I just say that out loud?”

Nice going, Y/n! You probably freaked the gorgeous man out!

Alastor was the blushing mess now, his heart pounded inside his chest. He even nearly dropped the deer.

Me? She thinks I’m beautiful? Why does that make me feel both so happy and shy at the same time? Pull yourself together, Alastor!

But he quickly regained his composure, “You did, haha! Thank you, my dear, most people don’t compliment my appearance.”

“Well, they should! Such a handsome man deserves to know it.”

They continued to converse. He told her about his mother and her cooking, how there was no one who could make better food. She told him how she had to do all the cooking and housework, because of how frail her mother was.

She talked about her three little sisters, how much of angels they were. Though she admits that it’s hard having to act almost like their mother.

“I’m their big sister, not their mother. I just sometimes wish that Mama would feel better enough one day to actually be our mother again. That’s a terrible thing to say, isn’t it? I’m sorry for going on about my problems.”

“No, your feelings are valid. And you’re correct, you’re not their mother. I understand your frustration. My mother sometimes treats me like I’m still seven years old.”

“Are you her only child?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s it then. You’re her baby! Of course she doesn’t want to let go of your childhood. But I also understand your frustration.”

He knew that. But it was nice hearing out of her mouth, she made it sound all the sweeter. He loved his mother. She was a kind soul, not a gentle soul by any means, but a kind one. Y/n seemed to be both kind and gentle.

“I want to be my Mama’s baby again, but I haven’t been that since the first of my little sisters were born,” she looked thoughtfully out into the distance.

“Well, one day you’ll have a husband to take care of you.”

“Yes, until I have a baby and then this whole thing will just repeat itself.”

“You don’t have to have a baby.”

“Hmm, what do you mean?”

“You can be married without having to have children. I know if I ever get married, unless my wife really wants children, we’ll probably never have them. Not that I don’t like children or anything like that but I can’t see myself as a father.”

Y/n stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. But then she smiled, “I don’t want children either! I wish more men thought like you, Sugar. But I know once I get married, I’ll be expected to birth many children and keep my husband’s blood line going.”

Alastor looked at the tops of the trees, “That’s the thing, I couldn’t care less about ‘continuing my blood line.’ In fact, I think it should just die with me.”

“Why?”

“I hate my father.”

“Oh. I didn’t care for mine either.”

Y/n then changed to more lighthearted topics. Going on about her hobbies outside of doing housework. It turned out she played the piano and sang just like he did. Of course, her piano was an old hand-me-down going back generations. But it played just fine.

His heart wouldn’t stop pounding as walked beside her. He was so charmed by her. Her looks, her kindness, the way her nose wrinkled up when she laughed. It was actually kind of overwhelming. Sure, he interacted with beautiful women before, but something was different about her.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was almost like she had bewitched him in the best possible way.

Little did he know that she was equally as charmed by him as he was by her. She loved the formal way he spoke, how much of gentleman he was, how bright his smile was. It gave her butterflies in her stomach.

Finally, they reached her house. It was a one-story cabin with a little picket fence surrounding it. Suddenly, three adorable little girls came running to Y/n. She got on her knees and embraced them.

“Why were you gone so long, Y/n?”

“We were worried.”

“We missed you.”

“I know, I know I was gone for far too long! I missed you little ones too,” a motherly tone in her voice.

Alastor smiled, “What cute little girls.”

They looked up at him and then back to their older sister, their eyes asking if it was okay to talk to him.

“My little darlings, this is Mister Alastor. He helped me bring home that big stag,” she pointed to the dead animal.

They turned to him and smiled, “Thank you, Mister Alastor!”

“It was my pleasure, dears.”

Y/n got up, “Come on, I’ll show you where to put the deer,” she turned to him.

She led him to a shack behind the house, it was full of tools for gutting and skinning. In the middle was a table, she told him to place it on there.

“I cannot thank you enough! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to feed my family. Thank you so much, Alastor!”

“Please, Sweetheart, again it was no trouble at all! I’m glad I could be of assistance to you and your family.”

The tallest of the little girls came up to him, “Excuse me, Mister Alastor. Will you be joining us for dinner?” Her eyes full of sweet innocence.

Y/n’s face lit up, “Yes, why don’t you join us! It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

“Thank you kindly for the offer, but I have to get home to my Mother. She’s also counting on me to get dinner home,” he motioned to the sack tied to his belt, “Perhaps another time though?” He looked from the little girl over to Y/n.

“Of course! Stop by anytime! You’re always welcome here now,” her smile couldn’t possibly be any sweeter.

Alastor tipped his cap, “Adieu, my dear. And adieu to you, little dears.”

“Adieu, Alastor!” Y/n waved to him.

“Adieu, Mister Alastor!” The little girls said in unison, waving their little arms.

I hope I see him again soon.

“He was handsome, are you going to marry him, Y/n?” Her littlest sister asked.

“She’s not going to marry someone she just met, Louise!” The middle one said.

“Now, Marie don’t shout at Louise. But no, I’m not going to marry him.”

“Awww. You two would be so cute together!”

Y/n pinched the girl’s cheek.

“Annalise, come help me prepare for supper.”

“Yes, Y/n!” The oldest came running to her big sister’s side.

Alastor got home just before sunset, much to the chagrin of his mother.

“Boy, you better have a good reason for being home so late! I was getting worried,” she looked at him sharply from her rocker.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I brought home some rabbits for dinner,” he kissed her cheek.

“It took that long to catch some rabbits?” She said teasingly, taking the sack from her son.

“I met a girl,” was all he said before going upstairs to wash up.

———————————————————————

Alastor lay awake in his bed that night. He stared at the ceiling, counting the wooden panels. He often had insomnia that caused him only to get three to five hours of sleep.

“Y/n,” he whispered.

I wonder if she has trouble sleeping. Or is she someone who sleeps like a baby? I wonder if she snores, I bet it’s cute if she does.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He had just met her that day but already she was causing him to lose sleep.

Is she a side sleeper? Would she mind if wrapped my arms around her waist and hold her close? What if I stole a kiss or two? Would she wake up with an adorable annoyed face?

Alastor grinned just thinking about what it would be like….

What if I kept kissing her all the way down from her lips to her neck? Would she moan at the sensation? What if I nibbled and sucked at her neck? Would she like it? I bet she would. I bet she would beg for more.

What a sight that would be. But he had to stop such thoughts, since did not feel like cleaning his sheets the next day.

He turned to more wholesome thoughts. Like what kind of food did she like? Would she like it if he cooked for her? Did she like venison or did she just hunt it out of necessity? Does she like jambalaya?

What a silly question, everyone in Louisiana likes jambalaya.

He thought about what it would be like coming home to her everyday. Her sweet smile, her warmth. Her wonderful laughter.

“Alright, I have to see her again soon. Or else I’m going to go mad.”

He decided to visit her next week, he figured it would be enough time in between. He didn’t want to come off desperate.

Finally, he rolled over on his side and managed to get a few hours of shuteye. In the morning, his mother would shake him awake and tell him to get ready for church. Then he’d tell her that he’s a grown man and doesn’t have to go to church. She would then do the sign of the cross, and cry out to the Holy Mother to please bring her sweet little boy back.

He loved his mother a lot, however the devoted Catholic side of her was something he could do without. But of course he would go to church with her, because again he loves her. And would do anything for the people he loves.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! A lil Sirius request or u could do it with one of the other boys (Remus James) but what about if his gf May be has an old injury that always flares up? (I hurt my knee years ago and even tho it's ok now every once a while if I over use it then it still hurts) and just fluff about her being upset her body won't cooperate and him just icing it and doting on her

Thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 623 words

“Try to get up one more time,” your boyfriend threatens, “and I swear to god I will sit on you.” 

“I just want the remote.” 

“And I’m getting it for you.” Sirius stretches towards the coffee table, keeping the ice pack held to your knee with his other hand. He grabs the remote that had been too far for you to get on your own, passing it to you with an exasperated look. “Relax, sweetness, you won’t miss your show.” 

“Thanks,” you huff, turning the TV on. Really, you just want the distraction. Your knee is still radiating a warm ache, your skin still prickling from the humiliation of having to admit it when Sirius had noticed your limp. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, voice quieter than usual. His touch is gentle as he adjusts the ice pack, careful not to press down too hard. You feel shitty for being snippy with him, and resolve not to speak until you can be trusted to do it nicely, in the way he deserves. 

It doesn’t work. Sirius is watching you, gaze shrewd and contemplative, fingers tapping a distracted rhythm on your ice pack. You keep your eyes obstinately on the TV, but it’s only a matter of time before he speaks up. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes ashamedly. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “For acting pissy when you’re pissed? Don’t worry about it.” 

“I don’t have to be mean to you just because I’m pissed,” you say, tilting your head back on the couch cushions. “I just feel like I should be able to run a couple of blocks without crippling myself. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls sympathetically. He brings his free hand to your hurting leg, rubbing up and down the back of your calf. “We did a lot of walking before, too,” he points out. “It was a big day.” 

“That’s just it.” Your mouth tastes bitter. “I’m not eighty years old, walking around shouldn’t be a big day for me.” 

“I know, baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, it’s shit. But when it’s cool out like this, and you’re putting a lot of pressure on your knee, you’ve just—you need to treat yourself a bit more gently.” You make a sour face, and Sirius squeezes your calf, lips slanting upward. “I know, you’re very rugged. You’re the picture of youthfulness and good health. But try looking after yourself the way I look after you, yeah? For my peace of mind.” 

He speaks with blasé lightness, but his words melt you like butter in the sun. You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance. “But you’re so good at it,” you complain. 

“It’s hard work, yeah.” Sirius’ canines peek out as he grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you up. You’d really be helping me out, taking a load off. And it’d free me up to do more things like this.” 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans down, dark lashes fluttering prettily close to his brow. Your cheeks heat. Sirius moves the ice pack momentarily, pressing a featherlight kiss to the skin just below your knee. 

“There,” he says decisively, putting the ice pack back in place. “It’ll be better by tomorrow now, guaranteed.” 

You bite down on your lip to keep a smile at bay. “I didn’t realize how much you’d be able to accomplish if we shared the responsibilities.” 

“Yes, well, I know I make it look easy, but it is a lot,” Sirius tells you with faux solemnity. “Is there anywhere else I should see to?” He makes a show of looking you over. “Tsk, that lip looks to be hurting, too. C’mere, gorgeous, let me take care of that.”

[painted-bees]

“It isn't for you, it's because of you.

Because of you, I can finally do this for myself.

Because I want to.

Because I trust you with it.

It's all because of you,

and I'm so fucking thankful.”

-- [Jan 28th, 2014] The weather had conspired against him.

Or perhaps it was trying to protect him. Either way, the cold snap that washed over Vancouver on this sunny January afternoon was perfectly timed to ruin the months of careful planning, frivolous spending, and emotional safeguarding Raf had done in preparation for the performance today. It was as though the sky had opened up to release every breath of warm air that the previous weeks of relentless overcast had, until now, valiantly sealed in.

 To make matters worse, Raf couldn’t turn to Margie for consolation about it. She didn’t know anything about a performance happening today, and it needed to stay that way until at least 6 pm. Her distractible nature had been a huge blessing for him during the past long months of preparation and rehearsals, and this was the last day he'd have to work behind her back. He was thankful for that. Tess had whisked her out into town this morning under the pretence of finding a suitable birthday present to ‘surprise’ him with. It was an effective ruse to keep Margie busy and secreted away from him while he fulfilled the final preparations for the day’s event.

  He was half expecting to arrive at Jack Poole Plaza only to be met by an unfortunate orchestra representative tasked with dispensing the bad news of postponement due to the unusual cold. Instead, the venue was abuzz with activity, warmed by the familiar din of pre-performance energy.   Or rather–it was the arrangement of outdoor heaters that kept the temperature surprisingly manageable in key locations across the venue. That was one of the expenditures Raf had considered “a frivolous necessity” when he committed to it, and it was certainly paying dividends today. 

  “Raf!” The sound of Nels’ voice as he approached was every bit as warm as the heaters. “Boy, you sure picked a day, didn’t you?” As the older man closed the distance, one of his large hands clapped down on Raf’s shoulder with an amicable jostle.

  “Well," Raf said, "no one called to postpone.” Genuine disbelief coloured his tone in a manner that wholly undermined his attempt at a half-joke.

  Nels barked a laugh, “Bah! Over a little cold? No chance. But snow?” He held up a finger, “One snowflake hits that pavement and the whole city' in shut down” He looked up at the sky, wincing against the sunlight. “Thankfully not a problem today!”

  Raf offered a small smirk that bordered on a grimace. “It’s not great for the instruments, though.”

  “Cold feet?”

  “Cold everything.” 

  Nels held him with a gentle but uncompromising gaze. “Train’s already moving, kiddo. Can’t stop now.”

  Turning his eyes towards the stage with a relenting sigh, Raf began making strides across the vast concrete venue towards it. “Outdoor concert in the middle of winter was a terrible idea. Why didn’t anyone stop me?”

  “I recall there was an attempt,” Nels said, “But, ah…You had a clear vision, a convincing argument, and a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, I’m also insane. Nels, I hate crowds, I hate public events. Why am I hosting one?”

  “You love the audience and,” Nels’ hand found Raf’s shoulder again, halting him before the stairs leading up to the left side of the temporary stage set-up. “You love Margie. That’s the kind of insanity that drove all this. She adores this sort of thing. She’s gonna be beside herself. Inconsolable, even. And you know that. That’s why you’re doing this.”

  “Mmh.” That was a swing and a miss, but Raf had no desire to engage in the pedantry dissecting his own mercurial motivations, and so, he was content to leave it there.

  Recognizing the full stop in Raf’s voice, Nels clapped his hands together and led the way onto the stage. “Well-! Things here are looking and sounding well on our end. Security’s all set. It’s not going to be a flood of people all at once but, as you can see,” he gestured out towards the plaza, “We’ve already got a population of curious loiterers. We’re wrapping up the last of the sound tests. Speaking of–!” 

  Nels turned his attention to the microphone set up at the front, centre of the stage. Raf intended to follow, but paused at the sight of Naomi making her way over from the other side. She made he way in brisk strides, holding out her open palms in a gesture both of greeting and surprise. 

  “Ooh, you showed up!”

  Raf regarded her with a lopsided smirk and a curt, upward nod of his chin. “Was I not supposed to?”

  She rubbed her hands together and squeezed the fingertips of one hand in the palm of her other. “Dunno, Ephrem. How you feelin' about it?”

  “Trying not to,” Raf admitted. “But it’s mostly fine. I’ve got Kill Bill sirens going off in my head a bit. First time I’ve ever managed something like this myself, but I am managing, so–” With a Super Mario-pitched voice, and a weak upward pump of his fist, he concluded, “Wahoo.” An aptly appropriated Margie-ism.

  “Man, shut the fuck up. You ain’t managing nothin’ yourself this time, either.” She scoffed loudly. “C’mon I ain’t out here at bitch o’clock in balls degree weather doin’ this shit just so you can tell me you ain’t got no help. Be for real.”

  “That’s not what I–”

  “I know,” she gave him a playful scowl before throwing her hands up in an exaggerated gesture of arrest, “I’m playin’! Jeez, Eph, control your temper, chill. Damn, why you always gotta be yellin’?”

  “Boy, I’m going tah rip your face off.” His stiff posture, quirked eyebrow, and uncharacteristic transatlantic accent delivered his threat with all the seriousness he intended.

  “And ruin your manicure? Girl, you’ll cry.”

  Their short drama play ended with a defusing snort of laughter shared between the two of them.

Thumbing her nose with a sniff, Naomi attempted some honest reassurance. “I think you did a pretty good job, all things considered. Hired the right folks for certain.” She grinned at the compliment as she paid it to herself.

  From their place in the corner of the stage, they both looked out over the set-up and across the venue. The stage itself was populated mostly with venue staff and Hi-Note technicians working in collaboration with each other to make sure things sounded great, looked great, and that no one would kill themselves on any of the countless cables that snaked across the floor.

  Beyond the stage, the last of the temporary barriers and crowd management measures were being organised and installed. Raf himself didn’t know what to expect in that regard, and had no option but to trust that the venue staff knew what they were doing. At the very least, a free admission orchestral event wasn’t new to them. One such concert had been hosted here in the summer, and just like that one, this event was advertised months in advance to draw out as large a crowd as possible. But he hadn’t been the one to advertise it. In fact, he had explicitly forbidden any mention of him or of a vocal performance at all. No, this was advertised in a manner similar to the summer’s concert. And indeed, the programme would be much the same–but it would end with his performance.

 Even as the staff set about their tasks, a budding population of curious doddlers seemed content to wander and wait around for something exciting to begin. It was a lot to hold in his head, and there were countless variables he had no control over–many of which relied on the cooperation of other people. Complete strangers. An overwhelming number of things could and likely would go wrong, and anything that went right would only do so thanks to luck. At least–that’s what his gut told him.

  It would be the first concert he’d perform, without Margie, in almost a decade. It would be the first performance without her that centred him since…

  Since Ephrem Records.   A chill unrelated to the cold forced him to shudder visibly, and he steadied himself with an automatic, curtly huffed sigh. This was not that. He had stared that beast directly in the eyes, he had walked into its horrifying, revenous maw and–

  He came back home. Safe. Sound. Completely unscathed.

  It–that–Ephrem Records and the nightmares within it had no control over him anymore. Though it had tried, it couldn’t keep him. That cage door had fallen off its hinges and would no longer close on him. It was a freedom he had had never in his life known before.

  Beside him, Naomi had turned her gaze to watch him. “Remember after Lacey ditched? How you said you weren’t never gonna get on stage for anyone anymore?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “You been cancellin’ shit all the time because you just ain’t gonna perform if you don’t wanna.”

  “Mmhm.”

  “But you’re here. Today. Like--your birthday’s tomorrow. You didn't wanna take it easy for that?”

  Raf turned his head to cast a very slight, wry smile down towards her. “Mmh, nah.”

 Her eyes lit up under the validating glow of his expression. “Nooo, see! I was gonna ask who you doin’ this for, really? But that shit eating grin–” a cackle punctuated her sentence. “This ain't for Margie. Is it?”

  Naomi’s laugh infected him well enough to let out a small snort of laughter all his own. “She'd hate it if it was. No, I just--wanted to see for myself if...Uh. This wouldn't kill me."

"I've been sayin', too, Margie ain't about seeing you freak out for her!" Naomi clasped her hands together and dipped forward in an elated gesture. "Well, you don't look like you're dying."

"Yeah--I don' think I will. "

–

  “Raf’s impossible to shop for. I don’t know what we were expecting to find.” Margie's conclusion arrived at the end of a long day spent following Tess around the whole, wide city in search of a gift for a man who placed very little value on material wealth. “There’s nothing we could buy that he couldn't afford himself. And it’s hard to put proper thought into it when it’s so last minute.” There was tired frustration in her voice.

  Savouring a strawberry frappe through a bent straw, Cortes remained wholly unbothered by the state of affairs. With a shrug, her free hand gestured to sign a sloppily composed, “Raf’s birthday gift can be all the friends we met along the way.” 

  Margie let out one of her conversationally reflexive little giggles. “Yeah, yeah! All none of them.”

  The sun had already begun to sink beneath the city skyline, and in its wake the clear sky was turning a shade of deep indigo. An already frigid day was turning into an even colder night. Too cold to be out walking along the seawall. Tess’s choice of a blended iced beverage was nothing short of absurd but, just like the failure of their gift-hunting quest, the freezing cold seemed to have no ill effect on Cortes whatsoever. While Margie’s breath hung like a ghost in the air and caused an uncomfortable moisture to collect on the fraying filaments of her scarf, Tess suffered no such inconvenience. Margie was bundled for warmth, but Tess wore her winter layers only for the aesthetic of it.

  Without looking at her, Tess signed with languid gestures, “We should probably head home, now. I’m getting bored.”

  Margie might have agreed, but something else tugged her attention. She grabbed Tess's arm to halt her. “Hang on, shh!” 

  A pause.

  A swell of string and brass carried itself on the chill ocean breeze. It wasn’t uncommon to hear music playing from the various shops and storefronts that lined the city streets, especially during the holiday months. But…

  “Does that sound live to you?”

  Tess appeared to listen for a moment longer before shrugging. 

  “It’s coming from the plaza.”

  Another shrug from Tess preceded an inquiring forefinger flopped with mild indifference towards the stairs leading out of the park, up towards the convention centre. 

  Margie nodded and shook Tess’s arm in her grip. “Yeah, I just wanna looksee!”

  With one last resigned shrug, Cortes allowed Margie to lead the way forward.

  As they crested the wide staircase, the plaza greeted them with an array of bright, warm lights and a buzz of activity. Margie immediately b-lined to read one of the standing signs that named the event to her.

  “Wait, no! What? This was today?” She turned a baleful gaze up at Tess. “We missed the summer one, so I was gonna tell Raf about this one. But I thought it was like–next month!” She gestured with both arms towards the banner sign. “Free concert! VMO! Tess! I’m so upset!”  Dropping her arms to her side, Margie slouched under the weight of her disappointment. “This woulda been a perfect birthday gift for him. Why did I think it was in February?”

  Tess’s hand came down gently upon the top of Margie’s head in a placating pat-pat. At the same time, an unfamiliar man’s voice addressed them from the side.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

  Glancing up, Margie watched the man approach, well dressed for the weather with a bright yellow and black jacket. “Genesis Security” was emblazoned in bold, white letters across the breast and shoulder. He wasn’t addressing her. The man’s gaze was locked firmly onto Tess.

  “Ma’am,” he repeated, “I've been instructed to show you to your seat, if you’ll please follow me.”

  “Woah...” Margie watched the guy's back as he began to lead the way forward through the plaza. "How does this keep happening to you?" It seemed that no matter where Tess went, there was always something special waiting for her. People treated her like a rock star, honored by her mere presence. Apparently, this was just another such instance.

 Shrug. Tess tapped on the shoulder of the security guard and locked eyes with him before pointing to Margie, then to herself, and then back to Margie again.

  With a nod, the guard responded, “I don't see why not. But let's hurry. Show's half done by now.”

  The guard made haste, Tess kept in stride, and Margie was forced to shuffle quite swiftly in order to keep up. As she did so, her hands fumbled around in her pockets until they found her phone.

  “I should call Raf, maybe he can make it in time if he’s still at Hi-Note!” Neither Tess nor the guard in front of her said anything to discourage the thought, and so Margie hit his name in on quick-dial and waited for him to pick up.

  Instead, she was immediately met with the robotic voice of his service provider.

  With a small groan of disappointment, Margie lowered her phone to send a text message, muttering under her breath, “Why is your phone turned off, you wiener?”

  The two of them were led through the well populated venue towards the very frontmost row of seating, where Tess was presented with two vacant seats.

  “Oh,” Margie took her seat next to Tess, “Raf wouldn’t have been able to sit with us, anyways.”

  Perhaps sensing the tinge of melancholy in her voice, Tess reached over to wrap an arm around Margie’s shoulders and pulled her in close. With a sigh, Margie nestled herself cozily against Tess and made the conscious effort to shift her attitude and appreciate the free show with her ever patient girlfriend. It was thanks to Tess that she got to see this performance at all–and with that thought, Margie was able to replace her disappointment for failing their day’s objective with thankfulness towards the present moment.

  The orchestra played an enjoyable, eclectic selection of compositions, most of which Margie couldn’t name. Perhaps the only one she properly recognized was the Star Wars theme, which stood out somewhat comedically against the others–all of which she had assumed to be classical pieces. 

  The final piece–or rather, what was presented as the final piece–was no doubt Tchaikovsky. She knew Tchaikovsky. Just…not well enough to name his compositions. But this was definitely him! To her ears, everything sounded beautiful. Had Raf been there, he might have identified nuances in the performance, both good and bad, highlighting them to her so that she might be able to notice them, too. There was a shared enjoyment between them for that kind of thing. In contrast, Tess was a remarkably stoic and quiet person to sit with when it came to anything involving live music. Her enormous, dark eyes stared unblinking as she listened; transfixed by the intricate braiding of sounds. Her long, lithe fingers twirled themselves repeatedly into the stray curls of Margie’s hair. It was a tiny, thoughtless, but comfortingly intimate gesture. Despite the best efforts of the late January weather, Magritte felt remarkably warmed.

  Tchaikovsky came to an end, and both she and Tess contributed to the roar of applause that persisted even as the musicians stood to leave, abandoning their instruments on the stage.

  Keeping with the applause, Margie leaned towards Tess’s ear. “Sit tight, there’s prolly gonna be a–oop, yep!”

  Her statement was confirmed before she even had time to finish saying it, as the musicians quickly emerged to retake their seats on the stage. As they did, Margie stopped clapping, waiting to hear if their encore was a song she could identify. As the rest of the applause died down, two additional figures took position onto the stage; a trio of previously absent musicians took positions on the stage. Or, at least–if they had been present previously, they were on entirely different instruments, now. Three electric guitars, one of which was a bass.

  Margie squinted at the rightmost guitarist and her bumblebee-yellow Kramer. “Oh, woah–is that Naomi? Tess, you see her!?” She couldn’t help but pick up an applause with an exhilarated whoop at seeing a friendly face among the cast of talented strangers.

  It worked to catch Naomi’s attention, and Margie was rewarded with an acknowledging little wave, bright smile, and a thumbs up.

  Clasping her hands together, Margie leaned back in her seat with a delighted giggle. “That’s so cool, this is gonna be so good!”

  A blanket of quiet settled upon the venue, and after a moment's pause, the orchestra’s instruments sprang to life once more. The number opened with a swelling whirl of notes that immediately swept Margie’s imagination into the realm of Broadway romance. And then–

  She heard his voice.

  A pleasing falsetto that wove itself beautifully into the airy strings, Margie knew who she was hearing before he had even walked onto the stage. One note was all it took.

I got inspired to post cringe, I hope you like it lmaooo About a year prior to these events, Margie and Tess had accompanied Raf to a very emotionally turbulent trip to Monaco. It wasn't a vacation, and it wasn't what any of them would describe as particularly enjoyable...Perhaps some day, we'll learn more about what happened there and why he went. One thing that did happen, on a very desperate whim, is that Raf had asked Margie to marry him. No real proposal--something asserted on the spot, motivated more by fear than anything else. Margie said yes, of course--but only on the condition that he ask her again once they were settled back home in Vancouver. She said--promised--she wasn't going to bring it up again unless he brought it up first; that there was no pressure for him to repeat the question once he was feeling comfortable and secure again. It's just--he seemed too emotionally compromised for Margie to really accept the proposal as one that was offered to her with soundness of mind. And so--to ensure that it was something he actually meant--she would forget it was asked at all, until he brought it up again on his own accord upon their return to Canada. No need to any special occasion, now jewelry, none of that--just ask the same way he did in Monaco...but without the undercurrent of panic coloring his judgement. They returned from Monaco safe and sound, and neither Margie nor Raf breathed a word about the Monaco proposal. Margie assumed Raf forgot--or perhaps he had come to his better senses and no longer felt like his well being and safety relied on lawfully locking down their relationship together. As she had expected would be the case. On the other hand, Raf had waited two months to see if Margie would bring it up at all, or if she'd stick to her promise and release him from the obligation of following through. To him, it seemed like she had completely forgotten; ss though he had never asked her to marry him at all. Unbeknownst to her, he hadn't changed his mind. The fact that she wouldn't so much as even allude to it for his sake only imbued further confidence in his decision. She had been with him through hell and high water, she was there in all the ways she promised to be, she gave him the space and the grace he needed, carried him through some of his lowest days, and kept him safe when he was certain no one in the world ever could. She loved him during his worst days, and shouldered his worst behaviors only because she loved being with him. She never asked him for anything spectacular. She never wished to see him spend the limit of his resources on her. She only ever wished to enjoy things with him--and his enjoyment was a critical part of that desire. Over the several years they had been together, one thing became abundantly clear; Margie deserved every good thing he could grant her. Margie could be trusted to receive his best efforts and his greatest gifts without ruin. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to give those to someone--to her. Because it felt right. Because he'd love doing so. Because she fucking deserved it. Performances had become pretty comfortable for Raf by this point. He, Margie, and Tess had been doing them on the semi-regular before certain events dragged him back to Monaco. Even his post performance PTSD episodes--while still present--were far more manageable than they had ever been. He no longer plagued with week-long emotional lows that greatly overshadowed the euphoria of a great performance. Things just felt...more balanced.

Enough so that Raf decided his proposal to Magritte would, itself, be a performance. Planned and organized by him, with the help of Hi-Note. If he could organize an perform a concert as a gift for someone he loved--without succumbing to abject terror and paranoia at any point during the months of preparation--well... That kind of freedom over himself would be the best gift he's ever received. And so--he planned the performance/proposal for his birthday. Margie watched the last half of the orchestra concert with Tess, having no idea that Raf would be the encore act. Tess, of course, had been in on it as a collaborator. She knew the guard would address her for the seating--they had met prior as part of the preparations. She and Raf both knew that Margie wouldn't find anything suspect in the fact that Tess would be spontaneously offered some kind of V.I.P seating. Tess's ridiculous, ambiguous "celebrity status" had basically become a meme between them at this point. It wasn't unusual... It was all planned. And everything played out pretty well according to that plan. Once Raf too the stage, Tess pulled Margie out of her seat and led her to the stage (exchanging a thumbs-up with Nels along the way). Margie followed along in good fun. By this point, she knew shenanigans were afoot--and slipped into her role very agreeably once Nels confirmed that, yes, she's expected on the stage. She was happy to play along.

The dance she and Raf "perform" wasn't any choreographed thing. Rather, it's the same kind of lackadaisical dancing they'd often do in their livingroom at home haha. And then...there was no more performance...just overwhelm and joy and a lot of love...and Kirby rings lmaooo which made her even MORE overwhelmed. And then the rest of the night was just one big overjoyed, emotional blur. Okay, I've typed too much...this is all very silly, but I made it so you can have the whole bunch of it! Bonus: The next morning, they woke up with a terrible cold...and spent the entire day recovering in bed lmao

(happy birthday, Raf lmao).

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[reidology13]

I tell someone I love them (just as a distraction)

Spencer Reid x fem famous!reader

Summary: In the depths of his addiction, Spencer finds someone who needs an escape as much as he does. cw: talk of addiction, allusions to sex (no actual smut), angst no happy ending

Part 2 here!

Meaningless whispers of ‘I love you’ mumbled between laboured breaths and cold kisses in an apartment that doesn’t feel like mine. The sheen of sweat that coats his body is nearly constant these days, it has nothing to do with physical exertion. The glaze over his hollow eyes is the furthest possible thing from pleasure, although by now he might have his wires crossed. His face is beautiful, and I can see myself marrying it in another life, one where my chest isn’t as hollow as his cheeks. A life where I don’t have to ignore the fresh scars in the crook of his elbow as I pull his shirt off.

I am not in that world, and neither is he, a reality that I cannot grieve because this is what I asked for, what I have been working for since before I can remember. The parties that leave me empty and sick, the performances that start the moment I leave the stage, the new friends who tag along for my name. I love him because he doesn’t care about any of it, if only because he’s too high to care about much at all.

I don’t feel anything when I finish, I’m not sure he does, either. I watch as he disappears from my side, already scrambling to his bag, searching through it until he finds what he needs. He slips into the bathroom, finally taking his chance to feel something after the numbness of the night. He has his escape, he used to be mine. I wonder if one day the chemicals he defiles his veins with will stop calming his ever racing mind, or if I just need a higher dose.

When he comes back, I pull him close to me, dragging him back down into the bedsheets and sweat. It works this time, my skin alight with every electrifying touch as his fingers dance gracefully across my body. His hands shake as they move, a feeling that makes my nerves sing as a lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks to my stomach. He looks up at me with those brown eyes that would be so gorgeous if they held any emotion, anything but that violent hunger for a craving he should have satisfied moments earlier. He can’t up his dose as easily as I can, can’t pull his vice back to bed without the risk of never waking up. He doesn’t bother saying that he loves me this time, we both know it’s not true. Or maybe it is, but there are things he loves much more, and telling me he loves me debases one of the only pure things left in the world. I’m glad he doesn’t try this time.

He holds me afterwards, his trembling body not yet ready to stand up, or maybe he knows that the moment he does he’ll be back inside the bathroom. I turn my head away, and as he buries his face in my shoulder, I pretend I don’t feel the apology he mouths against my glass skin. He runs a hand down my upper arm, his touch tentative and light, scared that I’ll shatter into a million pieces. My heart does. If he knows about the tear that runs down my face, he ignores it, and I’m not surprised. Ignorance is what we’re good at, after all.

When I wake up, he’s gone, slipped into the early morning, or called into the job that he shouldn’t be doing in his condition. I crawl out of my cold, damp sheets, the disgusting aftermath of our night. The sick feeling that perpetually sits in my gut, loosening under him, twisting tighter under the sun of the next day. 

Slowly, I peel back the layers of sticky fabric, watching how they cling to my skin and each other as I force them into the washing machine. I turn it on.

Fresh sheets are laid out on my bed, sheets that haven’t yet witnessed the tornado of us, still clean and untainted by tears and sweat and words that never mean anything. I lay the sheet over the mattress, fighting to wrap it around all four corners as it perpetually escapes one, always sitting just slightly wrong. I place the pillows down carefully, fighting the urge to punch them like I’ve been wanting to punch his face every time he shows up at my door.

I can see myself marrying him in this world, too, getting him the help he needs and staying with him through it all. He would be able to be there for me when I need it, not an escape from, but support through the other parts of my life, a person to love and talk to about the hard things. But I know that is still impossible. One day, he will sober up and disappear, or I will be an uninvited guest at his funeral. There’s no option that ends well for both of us, the best we can do is take it as it happens and ignore everything.

I watch as the last blanket floats down over the bed, carelessly adjusting its corners. It looks exactly the same.

[thatdesigirl17]

concert

jess mariano x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, suggestive talk, jess and reader being possessive

haven't written in a long time so hope you like this, requests are open!

It was the weekend, the day of the concert for which Y/N had bought tickets for them weeks ago. When she heard they were coming to perform in Hartford, she knew she had to buy those tickets because Jess liked them. 

So they were driving to Hartford in Jess’s car and what Jess could think about was her, he had told her that already ever since he picked her up from your house and saw her outfit, a tight, black, short skirt with a cropped black shirt and heeled boots and to top it off, she wore a leather jacket, his leather jacket that drowned her. It made him go crazy for her, he always liked seeing her in his clothes, and it would always fuel his possessive nature. She loved seeing him like this, trying his best to control himself because of her and she was gonna make this harder for him. 

During the entire ride, he kept stealing glances at her, putting his hand on her thigh and being distracted until she came up with a deal, for him to behave himself and control his desires and she would stay the night at his apartment doing whatever and however he wants, a deal that Jess was more than happy to agree to. 

Jess parks the car right outside the venue as she gets off and waits by the front of the car for him, he walks over to her, a sly smirk on his face as he holds her hips, leaning her against the bonnet of the car. 

‘You made a deal, Jess.’, she says looking up at him, placing her hands on his chest. ‘Yeah and I’m just sealing the deal.’, he says smugly before leaning in and kissing her, his body trapping her against the car, pulling her closer his hands now encircling her waist. She kissed him back instantly her hands snaking up to his shoulders from his chest. He breaks the kiss, both of them breathless, ‘Back to behaving myself.’ 

They enter the stadium, the place packed and buzzing with people. 

‘This place is overly crowded.’, Y/N remarked as they entered. Jess looks around and nods, agreeing with her. It’s even difficult for them to move around without bumping into other people. He keeps a protective hand on her waist, guiding her through the crowd, his possessive nature unrevealing itself. They walk a bit closer to the stage, now surrounded by a mass of people all around them.

‘You alright?’, he asks leaning down, closer to her ear, to be heard from the noise of the crowd. ‘I’m fine.’, she replies nodding. Jess nods, relieved to hear that you're okay despite the crowded conditions. He keeps a close eye on the people around her, making sure no one accidentally bumps into her or tries to get too close. His hand stays firmly on her waist, his touch is possessive and protective. ‘Alright, but let me know if you feel uncomfortable, okay? I can try to make more space for you if you need.’ ‘And how will you even do that?’, she asks sarcastically, knowing that there is really little space for everyone to move around. Jess grins at your question, his eyes lighting up with mischief

‘Oh, I've got a few ideas…’, he shifts his position, moving even closer to her until his body is almost pressed fully against hers. His hand on her waist tightens its grip, pulling her against him even more, his body acting as a shield between her and the rest of the crowd. 'How's this? Comfortable enough for you now?’

‘You know the only thing I can see now is you, right? And we're here to see the band.’, she says, her tone feisty. ‘Like you’d want it any other way.’, he grins, teasing her, leaning towards her ear and whispering, his voice sultry. ‘You’re supposed to behave yourself.’, she says pushing him back slightly so that she can look at him. Jess smirks, looking down at her, his hands roaming up and down her sides, ‘I’m behaving myself…just making sure you’re safe and close to me. Don’t want you bumping into someone, now do we?’ 

She hums along, smirking, knowing exactly how much of a tease Jess can be when he comes to it. She pushes him away and moves slightly so she’s right in front of him, her back against his chest, and then takes his hand and wraps it around his waist, ‘How’s this? I’m all yours to keep safe and I can actually see the band.’ ‘Perfect.’, he smiles, planting a kiss on the side of her neck, pulling her closer to him. 

The place seems to have gotten more crowded in a matter of minutes as the band is about to go on stage. He feels the people around them press closer, the heat and proximity of the confined space only stirring up his possessive nature even more. He keeps her tightly held against his chest, his arms like a vice around her body. He mutters in your ear, his voice a mix of desire and frustration. ‘Damn, it's getting more crowded in here. People need to back off. You alright, Y/N?’ She nods in response, her hands placed on his jacket-clad arms around her waist. 

Jess fishes a cigarette out of his pocket, Y/N looking at him over her shoulder as she feels him move. ‘Needed a smoke to distract me. You're too damn tempting right now.’, he explains, pulling her flush against his chest as he leans forward, his other hand leaving his waist for a moment as he lights the cigarette with her still between his arms, the proximity making her breath hitch. He lights it, taking a deep drag as he tries to calm his frayed nerves. He lets out a plume of smoke, the acrid smell filling the air around them. He returns his other hand firmly to your waist, a possessive gesture. He keeps the cigarette between his lips as he takes another drag, the smoke wafting around them both. She takes the cigarette from his hands as she takes a drag herself, her body relaxing more against him, handing the cigarette back to him.

‘Damn it, you’re making this way harder for me, aren’t you?’, he mutters, looking down at her smoking his cigarette. ‘I would move, but there is no space.’, she smirks, shrugging. Jess's eyes rake over your form, taking in the way you're pressed tightly against him, the closeness making his possessive side even harder to ignore. He mutters under his breath, his voice a bit deeper, ‘Damn, you're right. There's no space here. I can't move, and you're too damn close. It's like I'm being tortured, having you this close but not being able to do everything I want to you. It's driving me crazy.’ She chuckles, her smirk growing wider, as she takes the cigarette from him again, taking another drag. She knew that it turned him on when she smoked and it was just another perk right now. She places her hand a little above her shoulder, for him to take the cigarette, but instead, he leans down, his head almost touching yours as he takes a drag, the cigarette still in her hands. The proximity only made her plan backfire. He takes a deep drag, the smoke swirling around you both before he moves his head back up. ‘You’re a damn tease, Mariano.’, she says looking up at him, her words making him smirk. ‘You’re the one to talk.’, he says smugly as the band finally comes onstage and the crowd breaks into a roaring cheer. 

Jess's head snaps up at the sudden sensation of someone bumping into her, his eyes narrowing as he looks over to see who it is. The possessive nature inside him flares up again, his arms tightening around her waist protectively.

‘Who the hell do these people think they are, bumping into you like that? Goddamn idiots.’, he says her voice irritated. ‘Crowds are so not your scene.’, she chuckles, rubbing his arm to comfort him a bit. He nods still eyeing people around them. ‘Jess, relax, we’re here because you love this band, not to play bodyguard, so enjoy yourself.’, she says laughing. He nods, loosening his grip ever so slightly as the band starts with their first song of the night. The sight of his favourite band starting to play makes a spark of excitement flicker in his eyes, she looks at him, smiling to herself as she sees him excited and happy. 

Jess watched Y/N, a small smile forming on his face, as she swayed to the beat, the sight of her body moving against his making his chest tighten with want, his eyes roaming all over her, as he mouths the word himself, tapping his feet with the rhythm. He leans down, his voice low as he speaks in her ear, his breath hitting against her skin, ‘You’re making this so hard for me. Moving like that when you’re pressed against me.’ 

A smirk forms on her lips, she says, leaning her head on his shoulder so that he can hear her through the loud music, ‘Just having fun.’, she grins as he sighs, her actions affecting him, her eyes flicker onto a group of girls nearby. They look at them, stealing glances, checking out Jess and giving her disgusted looks. She sighs, her possessive side coming out, as she leans in further, kissing his neck. 

‘Y/N…’, he says warningly, his grip on her tightening. She sucks and bites on his neck, leaving a mark on him, claiming him as hers. He inhales sharply, arching his neck to give her more access. She smiles against his skin, kissing his neck, moving upwards towards his jaw, leaving another mark there as well for everyone to see. He smirks and chuckles knowing exactly what she’s doing. ‘Really marking me up, huh?’, he says as she cups his cheek and kisses him, he kisses him back deepening the kiss as the band plays in the background. She breaks the kiss, panting looking up at him, ‘Now they’ll know that all they can do is only look at you.’ 

He smirks, as he looks around to see what she's talking about, ‘Jealous much?’ She rolls her eyes as he grins cockily. ‘Don’t roll your eyes, you were jealous.’, he says his grin widening. ‘Let’s just listen to the music’, she says, narrowing her eyes at him, and turning her attention back to the band. He chuckles as he returns his attention to the band as well. They spend the entire night vibing, dancing and singing along, while Jess also teases Y/N any chance he gets, loving to rile her up.

[misc-obeyme]

To my surprise, nobody sent me a prompt for Lucifer for Kinktober. I don't mind, that means I got to choose. But I was surprised that he was the character that didn't get a submission!

Anyway, I decided to try writing voice kink for this one. Lucifer just has that deep voice, you know what I mean? I dunno, it felt like a good choice.

I maaaayyyy have gotten a little carried away. It ended up kinda long. Also do I maybe have a thing for MC getting it on with demons at RAD? Nope. Definitely not. The only other time I wrote about MC getting sexy at RAD, it happened with an angel. Satan in the library doesn't count, that's like a given.

ANYWAY. Here it is, hopefully it's not too terrible lol. I really need to work on my confidence in my smut writing.

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Lucifer

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: voice kink, semi-public, fingering (reader receiving)

You wandered the halls of RAD alone, on your way to class. You were a little early, so you were taking your time. The other students moved past you, everyone absorbed in their own lives, not paying you any attention. For once there were no demons by your side. You would see them in class, but you happened to have this moment to yourself.

That is, until your D.D.D. began to ring.

You pulled it out of your pocket and looked at the screen. It was Lucifer. What could he want? You knew he didn't have a class right then. He usually spent this time working in the student council room.

You answered it. "Hello?"

"Where are you right now, MC?"

You frowned. "I'm in the hall at RAD on my way to class. Do you need me?"

"Yes." Lucifer's voice had dropped nearly an entire octave. "I find myself fully distracted by thoughts of you and I can't get anything done. I need you here so that I can make you come in real life rather than just in my mind."

The depth of his voice, the rumble of need beneath his words, sent electricity through your veins. You managed to side step a small group of students, moving quickly to the wall, certain that anyone would be able to see the flush that was now on your face.

"Lucifer," you hissed into the phone. "Couldn't you have chosen a better time to say that to me?"

You heard a smug chuckle. "Consider yourself excused from class. Meet me in the student council room."

You didn't even have a chance to argue with him because he had hung up. You stared at your D.D.D. in disbelief. While it was certainly like Lucifer to be bossy, it wasn't like him to condone skipping class. But there had been something undeniable in his voice, something that still made you shiver a little.

You considered going to class anyway. He couldn't actually be upset with you about it, since that was the responsible thing to do. But it was too late for you now and he likely knew it. He knew what saying that to you in that deep voice of his would do.

You quickly made your way to the student council room, the halls thinning of people as you did so. Classes began and soon enough you were completely alone.

You paused before the door to the student council room. This location was also an unusual choice for Lucifer. Was he really that desperate?

You opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark. Why were the lights off?

"MC."

You nearly jumped, but before you could turn around, there were arms around your waist. You felt Lucifer leaning in, his lips right beside your ear.

"Now that you're here, let us waste no time."

You shivered. But you also weren't about to let him get what he wanted so easily. You turned around in his arms and tugged on the jacket of his uniform. "What has gotten into you?" you asked, breathless. "It isn't like you to be so… needy."

Lucifer huffed and you could tell he was annoyed. You could only barely see him in the darkness of the room, but you recognized his familiar frown. "You say that as though it isn't your fault."

"My fault?" you demanded, but you didn't get anything else out because Lucifer had turned you around again. His hand was already down the front of your waistband, inching ever closer to your heat.

"I try to keep myself in check, MC," he said quietly in your ear. "Especially here at RAD. But there are times when I can't hold back. When I need you more than I need anything else in the three worlds. Would you deny me?"

His voice had lowered again, his desire causing it to become almost heavy.

You considered it. You knew that if you said no right now, Lucifer would let you go. That he would reign himself in, watch you leave the room and get to class, late though you may be.

You might have done that. But the truth was that Lucifer was just as much at fault as you were. And he knew it, too. He knew exactly what to do to make you crazy.

"As long as we're clear about whose fault this really is," you said.

Lucifer kissed the back of your neck. "You're right. I take full responsibility."

You were about to ask for that in writing when Lucifer's creeping hand finally found its way between your legs. You gasped at the feel of him, a gently teasing touch that made you want him even more.

"All I want is to make you feel good," Lucifer said, his voice still in that low register. The way he had you pressed against him allowed you to feel the vibration in his chest. "I don't believe that is too much to ask for."

You couldn't respond with anything other than a moan because Lucifer's fingers were moving more vigorously now, steadily increasing their speed and pressure. You pushed back into him because you weren't sure you could remain standing. Your hands clutched at his arms where they wrapped around you so securely.

"Ah," you gasped out. "L-Lucifer…"

"Come for me, MC," Lucifer said. It was practically a growl, one that you could feel in your own chest.

You let out a strangled sound, trying to keep yourself quiet here in the darkened student council room, as you came in Lucifer's arms. He held you tightly, keeping you on your feet, his lips on your neck as you squeezed your fingers into his arms.

It took you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself. You leaned on Lucifer as you did so, heart fluttering as you relished the gentle kisses he left on your skin. When he finally pulled his hand out of your uniform, you twisted around in his arms again. You made him suck in a breath by putting your hand on his obvious erection.

You smiled up at him in the dimness of the room. "Your turn."

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ Addicted to your kisses ♡

♡ Tags: Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, making out, pet names, praising, soft sex??, desk fucking??, idk what's acc happening rn, Reader distracting Dazai, p/without any/p? , might contain grammar errors, rushed drabble, cringe, etc.

♡ Notes: NEW FORMAT ?!?! But also srry for disappearing, school's already making me want to kms

Dazai had a lot to do this week, there were a ridiculous amount of documents and reports which had to be filled. He also didn't take a lot of breaks during all this, and the worst thing of all? Not being able to be around you. Not being around your sweet touches, your sweet voice and most of all, your addictive kisses. But it's probably better this way, he may be locked in his room at all times but atleast he's not getting distracted!

When you first found out, you were glad that he was catching up on stuff, but now it has been almost two days since you last been with him. Hell, you even started to get worried, so why not check up on him? Just a quick peak and small talk and then leave him be? That was your original plan, trying not to get him overwork himself, which started off innocently. . Until you kissed him. It was just a quick kiss on the forehead, how did it escalate to this?!

"S–shit, i missed you so much, 'donna.", Dazai panted between kisses, while you were just eager for his lips to touch yours again. From this one kiss, it all started from one innocent kiss for most of the paperwork to lay on the floor and you sitting on his desk, with your arms around his neck as he made out with you passionately. You were so deep into it that even his tongue entered your mouth, fighting for dominance even though you're submitting to him. Dazai's hands are now on your waist, holding you close to him. "Did you miss me too?"

"Yes, i did. . a lot, 'Samu.", you answered his question, just the way he wanted it. "Your kisses are so addictive, darling, i just can't stop after one.", he explained while looking you in the eyes lovingly. You needed him so bad, it was even a joke anymore, and trust me, he could tell. "You want more, love?", he asked, you nodded once more, eagerly and excitedly. Dazai only smirked and slid of your pants, leaving you in your panties. He then unbuckles his own belt. You could see his obvious boner, getting more excited yourself.

Dazai just took out his dick and pushed your panties impatiently to the side, sliding into you immediately. When he was in fully, you let out a quiet whimper. After waiting for a few seconds for you to adjust, you gave him the sign to start. Dazai moved his hips slowly first, already groaning in pleasure while your whimpers turned into moans. His hands were still on your hips, his head now on your shoulder trying to stay quiet. "You feel so good, f–fuck. .", he grunted softly into your ear, only getting you wetter. Dazai's thrusts got faster as this went on, he himself started to whimper slowly.

"You're s–so pretty, I can't–,", Dazai started, getting cut off by his cock twitching so good inside you, that it he had to take a deep breath to continue. Dazai giggled drunkenly before continuing his sentence. "I c–can't control myself. But you like it, don't you? You l–like the way you have me wrapped around fingers so easily.", You arched your back as he trusted into you deep, letting out a slutty moan during it. "Y–you're such a good girl, I love you so m–much.", he whimpered softly, twitching a second time.

The skin slapping in the room got louder and sloppier, meaning that you and Dazai got closer to your orgasm. You placed your legs around his waist, resulting into him going even deeper than before. "D–dazai,", you whimper loud enough for him to hear. "Y–yes, my love?", he asked while lifting his head from your shoulder, smiling drunkenly at you, very slight drool rolling down the corner of his mouth. "C–can I get a kiss, p–please?", he just leaned in, kissing you again. As his lips smashed against yours, your back arched again. Dazai twitched once more before cumming inside you, both of moaning into the kiss while you came with him at the same time.

Letting go of the kiss, you tried catching your breath and Dazai pulled out a few minutes later, sitting down back onto his chair and leaving you still on top of his desk. "Did you finish your work, 'Samu?", you asked, while Dazai just laid on your thighs breathing lightly. "Not really,", he stated. "Then go finish it. You know what happens when you don't.", you warned him until you felt his warm breath get closer to your inner thighs. "Relax, darling, let me clean you up first, hm?", before you could protest, Dazai was already breathing towards your cunt's direction.

"—I can't leave you leaking our juices onto my desk, can I, 'donna?"

AHHH I ACC LIKE THIS !! ♡

♡ Random tags:: @soukokulatte, @rxyyyyy, @miloofc !!

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

Ache // Yandere! Ticci Toby x

Fem! Reader {SMUT}

[Hello, this will be the first fic that I post. What I'm going to give you guys beforehand is some trigger warnings before we get on to it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback whenever you're done if you feel in the mood.]

TW // Violence, r@pe, and a whole lotta mention of murder as always.

𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ - First P.O.V

Every day, it started like this. Planted in my bed, tangled in my grey sheets, waiting for that one sliver of motivation to get out of my blankets. My room was a mess. Pieces of clothing scattered across the floor, piling up around my dresser, and hanging off of places I tossed them.

I stared over the rest of what I could see while trying to get rid of the bitter taste of soda left on my tongue from last night. The posters I've collected of my favorite bands clung onto the wall for dear life, fading away from how long they had been there. An empty Sprite can stood on my nightstand, left there after my body decided to have its third caffeine crash this week.

It was getting so warm where I was lying that I was starting to overheat, making me shuffle around to stay cold. That wasn't too hard because of how freezing my room was.

When I looked at my window, I noticed it was cracked open. If I didn't shut it soon, it would get worse. But minutes were melting into each other and I didn't want to get up. Why did I love to procrastinate so much? It shouldn't be this hard to move on with my day.

Silence filled every corner of my apartment, leaving me to peacefully rot. Was it selfish of me to be like this? That's what it felt like they were trying to say when I talked to relatives. But that's the reason why I prefer to be shut-in. I never had to hear that about myself. The world outside would remain indifferent. And hopefully, by the time I had to move, I was swallowed into the Earth below.

A sudden vibration of my phone startled me. I mumbled a barrage of curses and reached for it slowly, furrowing my brows and groaning. I could only pray that it wasn't him trying to contact me.

The last time he visited, I no longer felt safe outside. I would check behind me constantly, feeling as if his light brown eyes were glued to my back, and at any moment, he could come back and chop off my limbs until I was a headless torso. Remembering that he existed caused that horrible anxiety to spread goosebumps across my skin. I was shaking as I tried to unlock my phone.

Hundreds of notifications popped up that I had been ignoring, some of them messages from my mom, and the rest were emails. I almost accidentally clicked on one before I found the most recent. "Return library books today," it read. Fuck, I forgot today was the due date for those. Despite not wanting to, I had to get up. I did promise that if I had a reason to, I would.

I peeled myself from the comfort of my bed. My sheets clung to me like glue, trying to pull me back as if it were a bad idea. Fighting against it, I shivered at the sudden change in temperature and pulled down the bottoms of my shorts so they weren't wedged in between my ass.

After not walking for what felt like forever, I took my first steps, a soreness on my left thigh making me place a hand on my dresser for support. I looked down at a bruise from that encounter, biting my lip to distract myself from thinking about it. I need to take my pills or I'll get suicidal. So many things to do. So overwhelmed.

Encouraging myself in my head, I found the strength to go for the door. I opened it and turned down my hallway, going for the bathroom with quick and light steps.

Many pictures of family and portraits were loosely decorated on the wall, a pit in my stomach opened when I stared at them. I lingered on my dad and had to tear myself away from the picture before I felt the need to cry.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I flicked on the harsh yellow light and stood before the mirror, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I reached for the medicine cabinet, the hinges squeaking as I rummaged through it. I grabbed my medication and popped the bottle open, tossing out a tiny pill into my palm. I swallowed the bitter capsule and cringed as it slowly went down.

Turning my attention to the sink, I turned on the cold water and brought my mouth to the tap to take a sip. Then I splashed it on my face after I was done, relieved that the pill was no longer there. On the counter, I focused on the facewash I hadn't used in god knows how long. I missed the feeling of my face being clean. At least, I can't forget about it now.

I poured the runny liquid into my hands and rubbed them together, slapping it on my face and rubbing it in circles to get deep in my pores. It foamed up a bit and burned. If I'm going to be honest, I don't know if I'm supposed to be using this, but it works.

As I was splashing the water on my face again to clean it off, I opened my eyes to a man staring at me in the mirror, causing me to freeze. I could see the glisten of his goggles from here, that blue hood covering his messy hair, but it didn't contain enough around the edges. It was him. The man who attacked me and my dad a couple of days ago.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but before the sound could escape, I reached for something. Grab anything to protect myself, that's all I needed to do. But before I could, the room blurred as I twisted, my hand grasping a razor for a split second.

I was torn away from it. I felt a hard impact on my back as I was slammed against the wall, the air forcing out of my lungs in a sharp gasp. I struggled to breathe, my hands grabbing onto his wrists while they dug into my neck.

He had me pinned against it and struggling to get any sort of noise out. Slowly, I was dragged up upward and lifted off of the ground. I choked, my vision was fading as his glare burned into mine. He's going to kill me. Just like he did to Dad. He's going to get away with it. I pulled my head back against the wall before lunging it forward to collide it with the serial killer's, his hands faltering their hold and dropping me from the force of it.

I collapsed to the floor and sputtered out several coughs, hunched up in a ball and desperately trying to regain the oxygen he took from me. My neck felt numb, the indents of his fingers bruising and stung like a bitch.

He crouched down to me. I closed my eyes and thought he would finish it right there. But when I suddenly felt his lips press against mine, they shot back open. Breathing heavily through my nose, I stared at his shut eyelids. I glanced down at his lashes, feeling his breath as he sighed. He relaxed into me for a split second before pulling away, lowering his voice to a rough whisper to introduce himself, "It's nice to meet you finally, {F/N}. The name's Tobias."

Struggling to get myself sitting up, I made it by resting on the wall and using my hands to keep me there. My chest rapidly went up and down as I watched his every move. He backed away a bit, but not enough to give me leverage. I repeated, "Tobias?" And his eyebrow quirked up like he was questioning my reaction.

"I can also go by Toby. Whatever you prefer. But I gave you my full name because I really like you, [F/N]," he added. I knitted my brows and shook my head, unable to understand what he was saying. He liked me? He just kissed me? What the fuck?

I pushed myself away from him and got back up, running for it and successfully escaping the bathroom. The front door was right in front of me, I barely got to reach for it before I felt a hand grab a fistful of my hair. No, I almost had it!

Strands of my hair were ripped out as I was yanked backward and thrown onto the couch, falling onto it and yelping in pain. Tears fell from my eyes and I clutched my head, grabbing the part that hurt the most. A headache was coming on and I couldn't help but rock myself to soothe it. I sobbed, "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone..." I twisted myself to let out the rest in the cushions, hearing him approach behind me.

After crying for a bit and nothing was happening to me, I hesitantly lifted myself to take a peek. Toby was sitting next to me, almost as if he was waiting patiently for me to finish. When he saw that I was staring at him, he patted his lap and said, "Here. Rest your pretty head and we can get to talking about this, sweetheart."

I was too scared of him to tell him no. It was the first time I felt pure terror from somebody. Like I would never be able to fight back with him. And I was right. I couldn't. The sad truth was that if my dad had fallen to this man, I'm sure I would live the same fate if I didn't listen. Dragging myself, I cringed while laying my head onto his leg, feeling his hand rest on my head and causing me to flinch. "Sh, sh, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I told you, I really adore you, [F/N]," he reassured me. A part of me wanted to bite his leg to pieces, but if I went along with this until he fell asleep or left, then I could escape and possibly go to the police.

Deciding to go with it, I pretended to enjoy the warmth and snuggled into him. I wouldn't call it pretending actually, he was pretty warm. Toby hummed and it stayed like this for some time. He kept petting me, brushing my hair out of the way, soothing me from the chase earlier.

Eventually, he got bored of it and nudged me to sit back up. I tilted my head and asked, "What?" His hand went to rest on my lower back, applying pressure around it, pushing me forward until I was easing into sitting on him. A smile crossed his face at the compliance. He seemed intrigued by it.

"I didn't think you would give up this quick. I thought I was going to have to give you a couple more marks for memories," he sounded pleased as both of his arms wrapped around my waist. They were much bigger than mine, with a couple of veins etched up around them like vines, and faded scars littering everywhere on his skin. He had been doing this for years by the looks of it. There was no way in hell I was going to escape, huh?

Placing another kiss on my cheek, soft and gentle, his eyelashes brushed against me before he pulled away to speak again, "Do you know what I've been picturing every night to the thought of you, [F/N]?" His hands dropped lower to skim over my ass, lightly gripping, and dragging me toward him. My breath hitched. I didn't say a word.

Toby answered for me, "I've been picturing taking these off..." His fingers gripped around the waistband of my shorts and teased me about taking them off by pushing them down lightly. Continuing that, he said, "Have you to myself for a couple of hours..."

There were so many reasons why I should say no to him and why I shouldn't allow him to touch me like this. For one, he killed my father. He broke into my house and he was physically violent to me. I felt disgusting that he had gotten to this level too. But, I didn't stop him. I didn't say no and I didn't deny it. I looked into this killer's eyes and I leaned onto his chest, giving into what he wanted

When we kissed for the second time, I noticed how chapped his lips were, and opened my mouth a little to swipe my tongue across his bottom one. Toby tensed up. And without warning, I felt his tongue use the opportunity to have an exchange with mine. I gasped through my nose, the escalation getting worse and worse. A blush began to spread across my face.

He lifted me off of his lap to flip me onto the couch, putting both of his palms by either side of my head. I was back to being pinned underneath him. I don't know what was happening to me. Something was wrong with me, I was sick for this. I was sick... because I enjoyed this.

His sweater and shirt fell to the floor as we fought each other with kisses. His teeth bit into my lower lip and pulled it back while I moved to unbuckle his belt. I was giving in to this. I was really fucking the guy that took away everybody I loved in my life.

Barely in any clothes, we both took a moment to stare at each other, oddly feeling like he was admiring me from how he looked up and down my body. Toby took his time, pressing small pecks across my chest up to my neck, snaking his arms around to my back. He unclipped my bra and slipped it off of me. I wanted to cover myself, but I no longer wanted to move. I didn't have any motivation. There was nothing left to fight for.

The gloves and bandages around his fingers felt weird against my skin especially when he played with my chest. He squeezed one, bit the other, and once he heard a moan slip out of me, he stopped to let me process. He complimented me, his voice a bit raspy like he was fighting the urge to do something to me already, "You look even better so close like this, with how foggy those windows would get. It would make me want to break them and threaten you then and there."

I bit the inside of my cheek and he got closer, hooking onto my panties and pulling them down as a smirk spread on his face. My lack of response didn't concern him. He kept going despite that, throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the room before he looked up at me. His hair was in his face and the eyebags around his eyes told me he was more than dangerous. How many times has he done this?

Toby muttered seriously, breaking me out of the moment, "Who do you belong to?" I blankly gazed at him, watching as he stood up and slowly inched his boxers down. I can't speak. I can't tell him that. More scars appeared, his v-line making my eyes linger, and I got distracted. His dick was let out before I could respond.

My eyes widened and I tried to squeeze my legs shut, but he kept them apart as soon as they moved, holding both of my knees up to my shoulders. I was breathing super fast, my heart raced, and I was feeling the ache in between both of my legs. It was nothing compared to when he positioned himself and pushed the tip inside.

Digging my nails into his arms, I cried out in pain and threw my head back, looking up at his satisfied face. Toby groaned, a laugh following behind it, "You don't have to answer. I'll do it for you." He rammed most of what he could, grabbing both of my thighs so tightly that it was guaranteed to be bruised. I screamed out. He was too rough and too much for me to take like this. It hurt. It fucking ached. I was being drilled into the cushions.

Trying to handle it was impossible. He made it impossible for me. His hips connected as he went deeper, loud slaps coming from it, bouncing off and echoing. I didn't want to think about the neighbors hearing me lose my dignity like this. I didn't want to think about the fact my dad could be witnessing this. But it was starting to feel good. Really fucking good. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and after that, I didn't care anymore.

I wrapped my legs and arms around him, pulling him closer and savoring his dick carving into the parts I didn't know were there. Moaning, swearing, and muttering filled the room. We were getting lost in the bliss and saying whatever was on the mind. Or I was. His name left me a couple of times and so did encouragement, "More.. More, please, Toby!"

Flipping around again when he got a little tired, I gyrated my hips and sat on his lap so I could bounce, sliding up and down until I could feel my walls beginning to squeeze. I was close and this position wasn't helping. I held my breath and Toby took notice, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Let it out for me, baby. Don't be shy," he cooed, sweat dripping down his forehead like he was holding back his own. I bit the inside of my cheek and a desperate moan came out, "Fuuuuuck, cummm with! Please!"

He didn't listen to me and lifted me off of the couch with him, holding me up in the air while guiding me down onto his shaft. I went limp and drool fell down the side of my chin as I buried myself into the crook of his neck, biting it a little to vent out the overwhelming pleasure. Toby didn't let up until a couple of more minutes of fucking me passed and I was fucked out enough that my legs were shaking.

When he was about to cum himself, he set me back down, rushing up to my face to give me a facial. My mouth was open from panting and I caught a bit on my tongue, swallowing it when we were back to locking eyes. The rest landed on my nose, cheeks, and lips. He let out a loud groan as he unwinded, pulling away to see the display once he was done.

I lay there. Used. I lay there for him to stare at. Until he walked away for cleaning supplies. To think about what I was doing. To come back down and face the new reality I was in. I was his now and he was mine. And there was nothing I could do about it.

[vienssunshine]

Good Luck!

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader nsfw/cw: dom!Maki Zenin, hate/breakup sex, alcohol wc: 3.3k author’s note: this is inspired by good luck babe by chappell roan description: a bad breakup compels a male distraction, that is, until you run into your ex.

You stumble into the corner of the hallway and the man you’re pulling along doesn’t even ask if you’re okay. Or maybe he does, you can’t hear over the music blaring through your friend’s apartment. Either way, it doesn’t matter, you’re fucked up and need to be touched, now. 

The door of the closet barely closes before you shut your eyes tight and pull him into a kiss. Immediately he slams the tip of his tongue against your sealed lips, demanding an entrance that you concede, opening your mouth up to him and the wet thick muscle that he plunges in and out of it. Only then you realize you’ve been holding your breath, and you shakily release it through your nose while his palms land on your waist, fingers slipping under the fabric of your going-out top. 

His hands crawl up to your breasts, pawing them, and he groans your name into your mouth. You go to moan his back, but you think you’ve forgotten it. Shit, did you even ask? It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to know it. There’s no feelings, no hard conversations, no real connection. He’s just a man, and that’s what you need him to be.

You don’t want to think about it anymore, and your tug at his shirt prompts him to pull it off fast. So easy. Too easy. You rake your hands over his chest; the hair covering it is rough and prickly. So you move your hands to his head instead, knocking off his ugly baseball cap so you can spread your fingers through his short hair. He grunts, pulling your hips close to his. The raging hard-on pushing through his pants stands in stark contrast to the fact that you’re not wet—it just isn’t the same. No, you push the thought out of your head, you’ve got to keep trying.

Hand in his hair, you bring him down to your neck, having him kiss and suck at it. It feels okay, you could make it work. You tilt your chin up, close your eyes, and think of–

“Are you kidding me?” A voice pierces through the haziness of your head.

You pull the guy off of you and look over to see a figure leaning against the doorframe. Your drunken state does little to buffer the feeling of your heart plummeting into your stomach. 

Maki crosses her arms. “What, only a week since we broke up? And you’re about to fuck some dude?” 

Said dude puts his hands up. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to get in between anything.” His voice is laden with vocal fry and a lot more nasal than you thought. Well, you were preoccupied with doing things that didn’t require it. 

Maki nods her head to the party, “Why don’t you go join everyone else? I need to have a little chat with my ex here.” 

Defiant, you grab his forearm. “No, stay,” you coo. You spare Maki a seething glare when you say, “We were just starting to have some fun.” 

He looks to Maki, whose gaze remains icy and strong, leaving no room for opposition. Decided, the man scrambles to get his shirt from the floor and side-steps past Maki, giving you only a glance as he says, “Uh, I’ll just…I’ll see you later? Okay?”

He doesn’t wait for your response before he’s gone. 

You scoff and begin fixing your disheveled shirt. Just as expected for a man, to be entirely useless and not give you what you want. 

“Get that out of your system, then?” Maki taunts. 

“I would have, had you not-so-kindly interrupted,” you retort.

“It was more like your hookup was interrupting the party.”

“It was not,” you counter.

“The door was wide open. It’s like you were begging me to see.” She scoffs. “Is that what that was? A set-up to make me jealous?”

You refuse to let yourself ask whether it did in fact make her jealous. 

“I didn’t even know you were here,” you respond, “And not that I need to defend myself, but it wasn’t a set-up, it was real.” With a flippant shrug you add, “He’s really hot.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t into men.” 

“Well, I’m definitely done with women,” you say, “Men are just easier.” You press your lips together before finishing with, “You don’t get hurt.”

Maki watches you, evaluating your statement. You might have given a little more insight than you meant to. 

She takes a breath and says, “So you’re just done with women, then?” She steps forward. “I have a hard time believing that.” 

“You don’t know what I want,” you return, leaning back against the wall.

“I think I do.” Maki closes the closet door behind her, dimming the room so the only light is what’s coming through the crack of the door. Even if it was pitch-black, you would know her eyes are trained on you; you can feel their weight. She moves forward and places her hands on the wall behind you, her palms planted just above your shoulders. You don’t want to admit it, but it flicks on a small flame in your lower stomach. It makes you actually feel something. 

You glare at her, “Even if you do, it doesn’t matter. We’re broken up.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore.” She leans down into the crook of your neck, her breath ghosting over a now racing pulse. You stiffen, careful to not move an inch; you’re not sure what you’ll do if the lips you’ve been missing for days meet your skin. She moves to the other side of your neck, as if a puma circling its prey and deliberating where to strike. “I don’t like seeing you in pain,” she whispers the words against you, “Seeing you frustrated.” 

“Fuck off,” you snarl, but your voice wavers. “You’re the reason I’m like this.”

Maki hums. “Then I should take responsibility.” She closes the gap, running her lips up your neck to your jawline until they’re right in front of yours. With her face so close, you’re able to feel her words: “If you’ll let me.” 

You’d like to blame it on the alcohol, you really would, but you’re clear-headed and resolute when you smash your lips to hers. Like a hit of a drug, in a second your body fills with bliss. It’s so natural, fulfilling. It makes sense. She’s been gone only a week, but it feels like an eternity passed.

Maki’s hands drop from the wall as she draws you into her, deepening the kiss. One arm snakes around your waist and the other up your back so her fingers can tangle into your hair. You let out a sigh of pleasure, but it’s really one of relief. Then, with a firm grip on your roots, she pulls your head back, exposing your throat so she can duck down and greet it with eager lips and experimental bites. The sensations, unpredictable and delightfully rough, have you melting into the wall behind you, the arms she has wrapped around your body keeping you upright. 

“Fuck, Maki,” you gasp, trying to hold your little moans back. Her attention on your neck, especially your pulse points, is sending sparks of pleasure down into the rest of your body. Your head falls back even further into her hand and she tightens her grip on your hair, sending tingles radiating all over your scalp. 

“Yeah?” she says, certainly leaving a mark just above your collarbone, “Gonna say you missed me yet?”

Your hand lands on the back of her head, pushing her further into your neck, not willing to entertain her with a response. She grins against your skin before sucking another mark onto your collarbone, hard. Your hips shift, thighs rubbing together subconsciously, affected by the warm desire building between them. And with her body pushed into yours, Maki’s able to feel every squirm, every indication that she’s got you worked up and needy.

She releases your hair and brings her face back up to yours. You draw her into a kiss that quickly becomes open-mouthed and messy. The hand around your waist comes up and pulls at the bow tied between your breasts, undoing it with one swift movement so the top falls open, revealing more of your chest. 

“Wearing something so easy to take off? Yeah, you really wanted to get fucked tonight.”

You huff. “So hurry up and do it already.”

Maki pushes the loose fabric away, indulging in the sight of how your bra lays over your exposed chest. If you weren’t feeling so impatient, you would be pleased at how long it takes for her to drag her eyes over you, drinking in every detail like it’s the first time she’s ever seen your body like this.

“I think I’ll take my time,” she concludes, kissing just above your bra, making your breath hitch, “Been so long and all.” 

“More reason why we shouldn’t wait,” you grit out, running your hands over her neck and into her hair. It’s so hot in here, do closets usually get this hot?

She pays no mind to your argument, kissing along the lining of your bra and letting her fingers roam over your breasts. It feels so nice, her lips on your sensitive skin, especially with the occasional swipe of her thumb over your hard nipple pushing through your bra. It’s just that you’re aching much lower than where she’s kissing.

Maki’s not going to go down there, at least not yet. Her sadistic streak will drag this out at a glacial pace until she gets what she wants: the admission that you’ve been missing her as much as she’s been missing you. It doesn’t make you very happy to give into her, to admit you were wrong about breaking up with her and your pursuit of male affection. But you’re really struggling here. You’ve been so worked up, so sexually frustrated and pissed off that you turned to men. Men! And that idiot couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you finish. Now you’re with someone who can, and, after a week of frustration and bitterness, god do you want to feel better.

You fold. “Maki…please,” you say, “I need it. I need you. I’ve…missed you.” The words ring dangerously true, and, for a second, you worry that’s all she wanted, to be able to say “I told you so.” She could leave right now, entirely satisfied by your desperation. 

Maki tortures you with the few seconds she stays quiet, savoring the words she’s been trying to get you to concede. “Glad you admitted it,” she finally says, looking up from your chest with a glint in her eye that can only be described as devilish before she sinks down to her knees, hands traveling down your waist to your hips as she goes. Her attention elsewhere, she misses your equally devilish grin, so pleased with her decision. Even at the cost of your ego, you love getting what you want, and with Maki, it’s worth it. 

You shudder when her fingers unbutton your shorts and then dip into the waistband and pull them down. Your hands settle on her shoulders as she runs her hand down the fabric of your underwear to nestle into the crevice between your legs.

“So wet already,” she says, rubbing the wetness seeping through your underwear between her fingertips. “So fucking desperate.”

“Put your mouth to better use,” you say, tugging your underwear down to mid-thigh.

“If that’s what my girl wants,” she says, finishing your movement, pulling your underwear down to your ankles with your shorts.

“I’m not your girl,” you argue, kicking off the fabric pooled at your feet.

“We’ll see how you feel later.”

Her fingers splay out over your hips, holding you still as she admires the mess she’s made out of you. Her hot breath fans against the wetness spread between your thighs, only reminding you of how soaking wet you are from hooking up with her for just a few minutes.

Maki puts her hand in between your thighs, once again running her fingers over your folds, only, this time it’s without the buffer of your underwear. You squirm a little, but her hold on your hip keeps you in place. She doesn’t make any attempt to avoid your clit, brushing against it as she dips into the wetness of your folds. The sensation is raw, and you squeeze at her strong shoulders every time she does it.

Then her fingers, thoroughly coated in your wetness, move back to your aching hole, circling and prodding the entrance with her fingertips. Your lower stomach tenses, anticipating the moment she’ll fill you and bring about the sensation you’ve been so desperately trying to replicate.

Instead, she leans forward, placing a kiss on your mound, before opening her mouth and latching it onto your clit, giving it a harsh suck. 

“Maki!” you cry out, either from the shock or the pleasure, before slamming your palm over your mouth. You drop your voice to a whisper-shout. “You can’t surprise me like that, we have to stay quiet,” you say, eyeing the door.

“Keep it down then,” she mumbles into you, fingers digging into the softness of your sides. Her eyes flutter closed and she leans forward to encircle your clit with her mouth again, resuming her licking and sucking. You fight with yourself to keep the reactions internal, but it’s a losing battle, forcing you to clamp your hand over your mouth as you pant and moan.

This is a reason why you broke up. She’s always pushing you past your limit, like fucking you loudly in a closet at your friend’s party. It’s why you went after a man, because it would be quick, emotionless, and quiet. But, you don’t think that kind of hookup would have turned out to be nearly as hot as this one. 

Her tongue swipes over your clit, lathering the bud with its delightful wet texture. Heated pants from her mouth warm your mound and folds. The hand not tasked with quieting your noises tangles into her hair as she goes down on you, leveraging a handful of her dark locks to move her head along with the pace that’ll get you there. 

Tingles shoot through the sides of your abdomen when she presses her tongue flat against your clit, applying a pressure that has the dormant energy in your stomach making itself known. The sensation only intensifies when two fingers slip into you—with no warning, of course—but you find it hard to take issue with it because of how quickly they begin massaging your insides in the exact way you like. 

“Bet that man wouldn’t think to touch you here,” Maki says, pushing her fingertips against your g-spot. She seems pleased when you moan from it. “Wouldn’t know how you like it, either.” She resumes licking you while pumping her fingers in and out, the sound of wet slick and moans filling the closet. The two-front stimulation has your thighs shaking, your poor body barely able to handle how good she’s making you feel. 

“Fuck, Maki,” you moan. Your fingers covering your mouth have fallen open, the gaps letting your shuddery breaths through. Head clouded by lust, you don’t make an effort to muffle yourself again, every thrust of her fingers pushing any rational thought threatening to form from your head. 

“I missed this,” she whispers between licks. She grins against you, “I know you did too.”

“Fuck–ah–fuck…you…” you get out.

“Mhmm,” she hums, amused. 

“This is so…god, it feels so good–m’gonna…”

“Gonna?” she prods, “Keep talking if you want me to keep going.”

Your head falls to the side. “Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum for you. I feel it…I’m almost there.”

Her fingers curl deep inside you, pushing against the walls, intent on realizing your words.

“I feel it,” you repeat, delirious, “It feels so good, fuck, Maki, you make me feel so–”

Your fingers knot into her hair when it happens. A wave of pleasure slams into you and your head falls back against the wall, whole body shaking and surging with pleasure.

“Fuck, ohmygod,” you moan, ecstasy pushing up through your abdomen and down into your thighs. 

You whine her name, begging for reprieve, but she doesn’t listen. Her tight grip on your hip offers you no escape, and she keeps licking and sucking until she gets every drop of pleasure from your orgasm out of you. 

When she’s finished with you, only then can you crouch down against the wall, unable to remain standing. Your breath comes out rapid and uneven and you clutch Maki’s forearm until you can speak again. 

“Too much for you?” Maki says, brushing your disheveled hair out of your face, “Still want a man instead?” She punctuates the taunt with a kiss to your cheek. 

Though your instinct is to tease her back, to deny what you feel, you get out a ‘no’ before turning your face to meet her lips and bring her into a breathy, undoubtably sincere kiss. “I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Maki responds, before kissing you again. 

There’s a knock on the closet door. You both snap your heads towards it; the crack of light shining through is now obscured by a figure outside. 

That man’s familiar voice, entirely unpleasant to hear again, travels through the door. “Hey, sorry, I just…uh…can I come in real quick? Are you done talking?”

“What the fuck?” Maki whispers to you.

You pull your shirt back on, hurrying to tie it. “I–I don’t know–” you raise your voice to call out to him, “Just one second!” 

“Uh…okay,” the man answers. 

You drop your voice back down to a vicious whisper, “I told you we were too loud!” 

“We?” Maki questions, grinning.

You huff, yanking your underwear and shorts back on. “Yes we were too loud,” you say to her, moving on to fixing your hair. Why did Maki have to make such a mess of it? She stares back at you, smiling and unconvinced. “Just…whatever,” you say, taking Maki’s hand and standing up. 

You crack open the door, still flustered, with cum dripping down your legs that you have to hope he doesn’t notice. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you say, playing it as cool as you can. Maki snickers.

“Hi,” he responds with a wave. Then he drops his hand back down to his side before peering past your shoulder to notice Maki behind you.

You force a smile. “So…can we help you?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah. I left my lucky hat in there and I need it for beer pong.”

“Your hat?” you say.

“My lucky hat,” he corrects.

“Right,” you say, turning to look into the closet. Sure enough, there’s a baseball cap upside-down in the corner of the closet. “Oh, yeah, it’s just right over there.” You step out of the way so he can reach over and grab it. 

He puts it on—backwards—and says, “Thanks for the help, ladies.” His eyes flick from your face to Maki’s and he clasps his hands together. “Y’know, you’re both pretty hot.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “Thanks?”

“So…would you like…want to have a threesome?” 

Maki rolls her eyes and with a dry laugh says, “You’re not our type.” She wraps her arm around you and pushes past the man in the doorway.

He watches you both head back to the party. “Uh, so is that a no?”