#they make my heart rate accelerate in a way I don’t like to feel

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.

[improbable-outset]

I hath a steamy scientist Miguel suggestion

Imagine he’s working on an aphrodisiac and is being as careful as he possibly can be. However he didn’t consider how his spider biology makes him immune in certain doses. So he keeps the cap on the bottle off for just a few moments. Enough for you to walk in and immediately get a whiff.

But you don’t notice at first and take it as some horniness, however the drug comes in waves. And as Miguel goes in to hug you. You can help but hump him. The rest you decide :3

I love this idea omg- I know I posted saying I was gonna post this on Friday but I got too impatient lol

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife!Reader, Aphrodisiac influences, dry humping, innuendos. Reader just being extra horny lmao

𝐀/𝐍: You know, in my two and a half years of writing smut, I’ve only written a dry humping fic once (forest sex lmao a clusterfuck bc I stepped out of my comfort zone for that one) so it’s not the best 😭 but I guess practice makes progress

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a routine for you to come into Miguel’s lab every once in a while, but this time you feel a strong sense of arousal out of nowhere

You could see him through the big glass window that offered a wide view of his lab’s interior. He had his back facing you, perched on the swivel chair, but you noticed him tinkering with some test tubes on the bench in front of him.

Nothing new; he would always be working on something whenever you came here. He still hadn’t noticed you were just a few feet away from him, too engrossed in whatever it was he was working on.

You stepped towards the doors, clutching the paper bag in your hand with food you were planning to share with him. The lab doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, finally catching Miguel’s attention.

He craned his neck towards your direction. He held a hard gaze, obviously annoyed with whoever just barged into his lab, but that immediately morphed into a tender smile once he saw it was you.

As you stepped further into his lab, the sterile smell got stronger— a scent you were all too familiar with. But this time there was another faint underlying scent that you couldn’t fully capture.

It tingled your senses but you brushed it off as just another compound he was probably synthesising. Again, nothing new.

“Hey you…” he said, his voice rich like honey.

He peeled off his latex gloves and stood up from his chair abruptly in jubilant, the swivel chair squeaked from the sudden absence of his weight.

Your lips tugged up in a shy smile. “Hey there stranger,”

He had his lab coat on that shrouded the digital spider suit underneath. A testament of his dual life as a superhero and a scientist.

You’ve always seen him like this whenever you would visit him on the clock, but for some reason as he stepped closer towards you with long strides, you felt your heart rate increase and a sudden heat rushing to your core.

“Sorry about the mess, I didn’t expect you to come so early,” he finished his sentence by dumping the gloves in a nearby bin.

Your senses were tingling more prominently now and the new scent you smelt earlier was getting more apparent. There was a sudden alluring shift in the air and you couldn’t tell if it was the smell that was getting to your head or your husband's sudden accelerated sex appeal. Either way you could feel your mind slowly turn into mush.

“Are those for me?” Miguel asked, pointing to the bag. His question quickly forced you back into the present, away from your chain of thoughts.

You nodded quickly, too afraid to open your mouth. Instead you thrust your hand out with the bag for him to take.

He took the bag from you and peeked inside. “Tres leches cake?”

You could feel your heart almost leap out of your chest the way his face lit up. A sight you would forever burn into your psyche. He placed the bag down on the nearest bench and cupped your cheeks.

The coldness of the platinum from the wedding band brushed against your flushed skin as he held your face in his hands. His touches felt like fire to you, making you jolt ever so slightly.

“You're really spoiling me here, mi alma. Really helping me forget about how terrible today was going,” he uttered, slowly leaning his face closer to yours.

His words would’ve tugged your heartstrings but right now, you couldn’t fully focus on what he was saying. The tingling feeling was too strong for you to ignore now, and his gaze he had on you wasn’t helping either.

He kissed your lips, soft and tender, yet you felt like you were going to combust. Those few seconds his lips were on yours felt like a lifetime before he pulled away, but his broad arms now enveloped around your waist, keeping you in his warmth.

The close proximity between the two of you was making you dizzy. You were hyper aware of how his body was pressed against yours, and you could almost feel your clit brush over his crotch.

If you were to grind your hips right now, you could probably rub the sensitive bud just right.

You really didn’t want to ruin a sweet moment. He was just showing his appreciation to you but you couldn’t help yourself from rolling your hips against his crotch just once.

You weren’t surprised when you got no response. He probably just saw it as a mishap. Reluctantly, you did it again, a little rougher this time.

It definitely didn’t go unnoticed by him now because you heard a stifled groan against your neck. He pulled his face away just enough so you could see him.

“Mig…” you whispered. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going through your head. If only he knew.

There were several reasons why this wasn’t the best time to be doing this, in his workplace more specifically, but your mind was too hazy to even come up with one.

Your senses were thrown out the window and you started to grind against his lower half, desperate for some sort of friction.

“Easy…I’m-” Miguel's words were cut off when you felt a sudden jab between his legs. He was getting aroused just as you were. You angled yourself so you had better access to his hips, with your arms wrapped around his neck. His hardened dick gave the perfect pressure you needed.

“So, is this what you wanted? You missed me this much, hm?” The words escaped in a breathy tone, and you could see his fangs emerging from his canine as he opened his mouth to talk. You could sense the underlying teasing in his voice that had your wetness pool your panties.

You didn’t know where this sudden urge came from. You were actually fully intending on spending this time sharing the cake you made. But the euphoria was coming in strong waves and you couldn’t resist anymore.

Your clit was starting to throb as you felt his dick grind against your clothed cunt. Even if he only had a digital suit on that could easily disappear with a few taps of his watch, it still felt painfully restricted.

Your walls were clutching onto nothing, desperate to feel him inside you and reach every crevice.

You didn’t expect him to start grinding his hips onto you too. You had to bite back your desperate moan from the sudden shift in dynamics. The way he was rubbing on you made your panties press onto your slick folds as more of your wetness was spilling out of your cunt.

Your arms reached to his waist to pull his hips further against yours, a desperate attempt to get more friction out of him. Your knees were about to give in and you could only just about hold yourself up. A staggered moan was heard from him before he halted suddenly.

“The window.” He managed to spatter out. Your line of vision quickly turned to where he was looking.

The window, the first thing you would see before you would come into the lab. All the moisture dried up from your mouth and it was not just from your breathless moans.

There was a momentary pause in your arousal that was quickly replaced with frustration. You were so caught up in trying to chase your high, you weren’t focusing on your surroundings.

Any Spider Person could walk past here and catch you both. The last thing you wanted was your husband, a leader that had so many people relying on him, to be caught red handed in a predicament from something you initiated.

He withdrew himself away from you, taking all the warmth with him to pull up the sleeve of his lab coat. It was an easy fix, all he had to do was tap on his watch, turning the glass opaque and giving the privacy you both needed.

Just when he was about to pull you in again, he froze. Something else was on his mind. He turned his face to his bench where he was working before you came in. You frowned from his lack of attention.

“What now?” You huffed, your torment evident in your voice. Was he going to go back to work? Did he not want you here anymore? His sudden dismissal made you feel ill with unease.

“Shock, the aphrodisiac was uncapped.” He said as he swiftly moved to the bench. You blinked, trying to process if you heard him right.

“What?”

“The aphrodisiac, it was an oversight. Explains why you were acting so…needy just now,” he placed the cap back onto the vial, the scent from earlier slowly fading away. You cocked your brow inquisitively.

“Why are you messing around with an aphrodisiac in the first place?” You didn’t think he would need a sex enhancing substance as a geneticist.

Even after he secured the cap back onto the aphrodisiac, your clit was still throbbing and you were still desperate for some sort of release.

“It’s not what it looks like. I was working on an experimental chemical compound for a project. I guess I underestimated how strong the reaction could get,” he said sheepishly, turning back to face you again.

“My God, Miguel…” you sighed. It was all making sense now. You wouldn’t be feeling this turned on without some sort of stimuli.

“But we don’t have to stop. I could pause my work for a little longer for some ‘us-time’” he said before lifting you and placing you on a clearer bench. A smirk crept on his lips and you could see the lust swirling in his eyes.

Despite the air being charged along with your flared libido, you still didn’t forget the main reason you came in here.

“What about the cake?” You gestured to the bag that was still sitting on the other end of the bench.

“The cake can wait, we might as well finish what you started without any unintended side effects,” he ended his sentence with a tap on his watch, disengaging his suit.

Precum was already leaking from the tip…

Eager and pent up.

I hope I did you justice here lol. A wise women (one of my fave fic writers) once said, your clit throbbing is your second heartbeat ;)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @mybvalentine @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @monarchberrysblog @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @safixiovi @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @rosegnome @ghost-lantern @famouscattale @maomaimao @ultravioletrayz

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @club-danger-zone @lauraolar14 @beckberin-xo

Made it this far? Help families in 🍉 here!! (Might as well use my platform here for something good)

[nickfowlerrr]

know my name - 4

series masterlist

pairing: soft!dark bucky barnes x single mom!reader

warnings: 18+ only. angst. violence. winter soldier. allusion to murder. lmk if i’m missing something that should be included.

words: 3.1k

notes: 🫣 talk about a meet cute lol. hope you guys are getting the picture a little better with this addition. and thank you so much for reading and showing interest in this series, i have been loving seeing everyone’s responses and thoughts and i’m excited to write more! as always, comments and reblogs are welcomed and so appreciated. thank you for reading! 🩵

the way before:

The wind whips around you as you come up on City Hall, your coffee in one hand and your phone in the other.

It’s been twenty minutes now since you got here, sitting in your car impatiently waiting for Veronica to come out. You called her three times before you decided to actually get out and grab her yourself.

She had been so excited all week, counting down the days until her meeting with the soon to be congressman. She had spent so many weekends canvassing for his campaign around campus, when the votes came in you swore it was almost like she had won the seat herself, she was so happy.

When you first met her, freshman year of college, you were a little put off by her intense enthusiasm and her love for politics. She was a true activist if you’d ever met one. You sometimes think if it wasn’t for that journalism class you took together, you’d never have ended up being as close as you were.

You’re grateful though; she’s so easily become one of the best friends you’ve ever had.

Which is why you don’t mind spending your free Friday afternoon picking her up from downtown. Especially when she’s offered to pay for dinner after.

But she had said five o’clock sharp…Mr. Tedder had an important meeting right after her interview with him and she’d need to leave right away. You check your phone as you get to the door.

5:18.

You make a face as you read the time, not of annoyance, but of perturbance.

As soon as you pull the door open, you can tell.

Something’s not right here.

You can’t place it, but you can feel it. A little gnawing as you look around at the empty room. It’s quiet, disturbingly so.

Eerie.

You take a half step closer to the empty desk as your eyes continue to scan all around.

You’re gripping your phone as you feel your heart rate tick up and set your coffee on the desk.

What the hell is wrong?

You gulp and look down to the screen, your phone unlocking with your face. You go to your call log and hit Veronica’s contact again.

You put the phone to your ear as you idle in the lobby and your stomach drops as you hear the familiar ring of her phone sounding from just down the long hallway.

You follow the sound with your gaze and ever so slowly force yourself to step toward it.

One step, then another. You feel your heart racing as you get to the mouth of the hallway. You can see the doors of the council chambers just slightly open to the left, a bit further down the hall, but that’s not where the ring is coming from. You steady your accelerated breathing as best you can as you step further into the hall. Straight down is the heavy wooden door that leads to the mayor's office.

You scare yourself as the sound cuts off and her voicemail tone starts sounding in your ear.

You pull the phone away as you gape at the door.

What do you do?

Why do you feel so on edge?

Where the hell is everyone?

Slowly, you get closer.

Just as you pass the doors of the council chamber, you feel something press against your back.

Instantly, you’re frozen. Eyes wide as you're nudged forward. You hear a click.

You don’t have to turn to look to know there’s a gun on you.

“Walk.”

The voice is dark and gravelly, low and almost rough; as if it hadn’t been used in a while.

He doesn’t know what took him so long to approach you.

He saw you coming the second you stepped out of your car and headed to the building. He knows what he’s supposed to do. He knows his mission. And he knows there cannot be any loose ends.

But he lets you enter. And he lets you look around. He watches, and for reasons he doesn’t understand, he’s struck by you. You have him off his axis.

You haven’t even looked at him yet but he can’t take his eyes off of you.

He wants to let you go but clean up isn’t here yet. He’s… conflicted.

Hide, he thinks. If he can hide you, you won’t be a problem. Not for him and not for them.

You listen easily and he’s appreciative. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

He can hear your heartbeat as it pounds and the delicate sound of your stressed breathing as he walks you forward.

You were calling the girl he found in the mayor’s office. Her presence as unexpected as yours. But he had his mission. He knew what he had to do. And, unlike with you, he didn’t hesitate.

Most missions his orders aren’t so personal. He wouldn’t have to get so close. To put people aside from his target at risk. But this man had made his captors seethe. He wasn’t just in their way, he was on the verge of dismantling their local operations entirely and they could not have that. He angered the wrong men and so they wanted him to pay. In more ways than one.

This was an important mission and his orders were to be unseen. So anyone who had the misfortune of crossing the soldier’s path, they’re expendable, he hears in his mind, they’re all expendable. And you will do what needs to be done.

And he has.

As he nudged you on, the muzzle of his pistol still firm against your back, he thinks better of leading you into the mayor's office.

You don’t need to see that.

“Right,” he instructs lowly.

You pause in your path and slowly look to your right. Another door, but you’re unsure of where it leads. And more unsure of how to move to get there. You’re entirely too scared to turn around and face whoever this man is, so you trepidatiously side step until you’re next to the door.

“Go,” he nudges again.

You reach for the handle and as your sweaty palm touches it, the door easily pushes open.

You don’t enter the small office space until you’re pushed inside. And you don’t register the welling in your eyes until an errant tear slips down your cheek.

You haven’t said a single word. You haven’t a single idea what is going on, what you’ve stumbled into. But you’re terrified.

The man - you assume - walks you into the office and all the way up to the desk at the back of the space. You stop as you come to the edge of it, nowhere else to go as your legs hit the front of the desk and you bend just the slightest, your heart gripping in your chest as your hands come up to stabilize you.

You’re sick at the thought of what might come next. What could happen to you.

A tight breath escapes you as you wait for him to tell you what he wants you to do next.

“Behind the desk,” he orders after what felt like an eternity - though was only a second or two.

You listen without question, not a thought in your mind telling you to disobey.

It’s only as you round the desk you realize he is no longer at your back.

Your gaze lands on his body. The man is tall, and built. He wears military clothes, all black with tactical gear strapped around him. A holster on his thigh that holds a knife, and you’re thankful you didn’t try to run. You wouldn’t have gotten very far at all.

Your eyes drag up his imposing form slowly until they reach his face.

His hair is dark and long around his jaw. He wears a mask that covers half of his face and black goggles that cover his eyes. For only a second it makes it less intimidating to look at him; and then you realize he can see you all too clearly - he watches you closely.

Suddenly his head snaps to the direction of the door, as if he’s heard something despite the still quietness of the building.

You stand in disturbed confusion until he speaks again, not looking back at you as he starts toward the door. “Under the desk,” he orders. “Stay there.”

You lower yourself down to your knees and as you try to crawl in the small space allotted there, you finally hear what it is the man in the mask must have heard.

There’s people coming.

Your blood freezes in your veins as your eyes sting. What do you do?

What if they’re here to help? Should you yell, run, something?

There’s a pull in your stomach that tells you not to. Something about his instructions that feel more aimed at your concealment than his own.

You hear him leave the room, shutting the door behind him. Then the sound of others coming down the hall, voices harsh and mean and some taunting and chortles intermingled. You can’t make out a word, but you don’t hear the man in the mask’s voice either.

The uncertainty and unknowing grows and makes you feel sick. You’re shaking, you realize, as you grasp your hands together in a fruitless attempt to soothe yourself.

What is happening?

Where is V?

Who is that man? And who are these people joining him?

What’s gonna happen to you?

You drop your head as you hold yourself beneath the desk. What can you do but wait it out…

You don’t know how long passes as you anguish alone, your stress and anxiety mounting, when suddenly the door of the room slams open. You shake despite yourself at the unexpected noise and clamp a hand over your mouth to keep your startled gasp down.

“When I give you an order,” a dark and mean voice cuts through the quiet, “you listen, soldier,” he sneers. “You understand me?”

There’s no response as you wait, quaking with baited breath.

You can tell when the man actually enters the room. He makes a mess in his wake, pushing things off the shelves and breaking objects you can’t see all around the space. The sounds add to your terror as they grow closer.

“You said you cleared the building, soldier,” the man speaks, his voice so close now you can imagine him standing right beside the desk. “So then who the hell is this?” He asks as he bends down and meets your terrified and teary gaze. His face is scrunched in what you can only assume is anger before he takes you in and a sick smirk graces his lips.

He grabs you, hard, and pulls you up to stand. His hand is rough around your arm and his hold hurts as he turns you, holding your back to his chest as you’re once again met with the man in the mask across the desk from you.

He shows no emotion, none anyone would be able to read at least as his face is still covered.

“Never known you to miss… well, anything, soldier. How’d this one get by you?” He asks, jolting you for fun as he laughs when you can’t help the whimper that escapes.

“She did get by you, didn’t she? Must’ve,” he walks you around the desk, closer to the man in the mask. “Because you know your orders. And you follow them,” he shoves you into the man before you as you gasp and grunt, crashing into his vested chest. “To the goddamn letter,” he snarls.

The soldier, as he called him, takes you by your left arm, his hold not nearly as painful as the previous, as he keeps you close to him.

“NOW!” The man yells, causing you to finally cry as you keep your face to the soldier's chest. You don’t know why he feels like your only form of safety here, but he does - and you don’t want to face the anger of the man behind you any longer.

You see the soldier’s hand move to his thigh and watch as he swiftly takes hold of the knife kept there.

It all happens so fast, you don’t even really see it coming.

You almost don’t realize what happened until you feel it.

You clutch onto the soldier as you gasp, the pain radiating as you look down to your torso.

His hand still holds the knife that he pierced into you as he keeps it there. It’s quiet, until he jabs the knife further into you.

He’s not looking at you as he does it, he’s looking at the man behind you.

You can feel the hot tears as they slip down your cheeks, and the warmth of your blood as it begins to stain through your shirt, though you can’t make a sound.

The man behind you speaks, “That’s what I thought,” his voice is sinister and you can almost hear the smile you imagine he wears. He walks past you and the soldier as he moves toward the door, “You wanted to make a mess, you can clean this one up yourself. Extraction is still set.”

You both stay as you are, you frozen despite the adrenaline that is starting to rush through you, and him still as he waits for… for what, you’re not sure.

He must hear something you don't hear after a moment because suddenly he quickly and methodically moves into action, though he tries not to jostle you much as he does.

You murmur in your disbelief and confusion as he gently moves you around and tends to you. Your mind is scattered everywhere and nowhere and you don’t register much of anything but the pain and the fear and the confusion that swims around you distantly.

What is happening?

There’s blood. You look down and touch the red before the soldier can stop you. Your hand shakes as you lift it, examining the blood on your fingers.

Things start to come into form once again as the pain re-emerges. Your shirt is ripped and you're laying on the floor as the soldier kneels beside you. His knife is no longer sticking out of you as he dresses the wound, a crappy little first aid kit on the floor next to you. You’re not bleeding much that you can tell but it still hurts.

You begin shaking again, you’re cold and you feel dizzy.

He says something but you’re hearing is muffled and you can’t make it out or focus on the words he speaks.

You feel a hand on your face as he gently turns you to look at him.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, his voice thick with a Russian accent that sounds…misplaced somehow. Like it’s not his native tongue, but one he speaks in often. “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

A chill runs through you again and you feel your eyes flutter, rolling back as he strokes your cheek in an attempt to soothe you.

And then it all goes black.

-

You woke up in your apartment, you’re not sure how much later. Your car was parked in its spot outside. You were in a clean pair of pajamas, your whole body felt clean…

Was it a dream?

You sit up and gasp as your abdomen pulls.

Fear engulfs you as you trepidatiously grab the hem of your pajama shirt. You inch it up slowly until you see it. The proof of what happened. There’s stitches as you stare at the healing wound marring your skin.

What the hell happened?

Did he bring you here? Did he wash you and change your clothes? Drive your car? Stitch you up?

Who else could it have been if not him…

Veronica! Where is she?!

You gingerly get up and search for your phone, finding it charging on your kitchen counter. You scramble for it and are met with an absurd number of notifications from friends and acquaintances alike. You scroll back to the first missed few and see Veronica’s contact on a missed message.

Your brows furrow as you open it.

Your mouth is dry and your stomach lurches, a growing pit threatening to overwhelm you.

The time stamp is 6:00pm yesterday.

That can’t be right, you know it. You heard her phone ringing and… no. This is crazy. This can’t be real.

The message is insane. A confession of love, of her affair with Mr. Tedder. Their plan to runaway together. An apology for not telling you sooner. A goodbye.

You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you as you click her icon to call her.

We’re sorry. The number you have called has been disconnected and is no longer in service.

You call again.

We’re sorry. The number you have called has been disconnected and is no longer in service.

And again.

We’re sorry. The number you have called has been disconnected and is no longer in service.

And again.

We’re sorry. The number you have called has been disconnected and is no longer in service.

Before you finally break down. You can’t stop the tears as you crumble into yourself.

What the hell happened?

You know Veronica. You know that message wasn’t sent by her. You can’t prove it. But you know it.

Who can you tell? Who would believe you?

She didn’t have any family, no one to miss her. No one to argue with the facts that seem to have been proven by every reporting outlet in the state. No one but you. And who were you? What could you possibly do?

You waded through the two week news storm that followed, through the messages asking you if you knew, if she had ever told you about their plans to getaway, to abandon the campaign and go live their happiest lives together somewhere far away. It was awful. Torture. You never spoke a word of what happened to you that day. And you never spoke a word of what fate you were sure truly met your best friend and one time mayor. Though, you never did see anything. Only the implication of what those men were there for, of what the man in the mask was there to do.

There was no scene at city hall. Those men must have cleaned everything up. Set everything up.

And then there was you. The one loose thread in their perfectly constructed story.

Lucky for them you weren’t brave enough or strong enough to ever attempt to unravel it all.

Though deep down you knew the truth. You weren’t supposed to be here. And they probably have no idea that you’re still around.

That soldier, that man in the mask. He saved you. He was supposed to get rid of you, to kill you, but he didn’t.

And you have no idea why.

You don’t think you ever will.

You’re not sure you even want to.

[jayschaconne]

BABY, PLEASE | Jake Sim

summary: ditching practice to make out with needy jake.

warnings: lighthearted fluff, slightly suggestive themes, making out

a/n: wanted to write this cute little blurb cuz i am so obsessed with him right now.

…

“Don’t you think they can see us from the glass doors?” You asked as Jake’s hand pulled on yours, leading you towards the empty hallways.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little break from work. And I,”

Jake’s lips attached to the side of your neck, “have missed you,” his voice came out muffled.

Your smile broke out at how that tickled your skin. Your face hid in the crook of his neck as he towered over you, loving the way his hands felt around your waist. Jake’s kisses became more impatient, trailing from your neck towards your chest. You instinctively held his face in your hands, marvelling at the fact that this was your boyfriend, and how he was capable of making you feel this good.

It was getting harder to stay quiet, and with a single trace of Jake’s hands on your hips, a sigh had slipped past your lips.

You couldn’t help yourself anymore, pulling him back up.

“Just kiss me, Jake,” you had pleaded.

Jake’s lips were on yours in seconds. Each little sound of yours had him melting deeper into your touch.

“Baby, please. You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered.

Without realizing, Jake had pushed your back against the wall a bit harder than he intended to.

It wasn’t until you muttered an “ow,” that he noticed. Your laugh had escaped before you could hold it in.

“Oh my gosh, baby I’m so sorry,” Jake laughed while reconnecting your lips. You could feel his teeth grazing your bottom lip as you both continued to try not to giggle over his clumsiness.

Your hands, so used to it now, lightly traced his arms until they reached the back of his neck, fingers entangling themselves into his soft locks of hair.

Jake smelled of rich cologne. A cozy kind of warmth radiating from his body, which caused you to melt even further into him.

The curve of his mouth met your lips with each passing second, your heart rate accelerating as his hands roamed all over you.

“Jake,” you said between kisses. “What if someone sees us?”

A chuckle erupted from deep within his throat, sending butterflies in your stomach. Momentarily, he pulled away.

“Stop worrying about them, love. You just stay looking pretty for me, yeah?”

Another chuckle, and another reason for you to go weak in the knees.

You pulled on his collar, needing to feel him as close as possible. Jake understood, and immediately picked you up, letting you wrap your legs around him.

Now you could feel his tongue at the corner of your lips, so demanding. You obliged without hesitation, feeling him kiss you deeper.

You tilted your head, making him even more giddy, his grip on you becoming impatient.

He set you down, giving you the perfect chance of cornering him. Jake’s back hit the wall, he looked at you with such dreamy eyes. The smile on his face, like he’d been drunk on your love. It felt impossible not to savour the taste of him.

Your lips latched onto his collarbone after undoing the zipper of his windbreaker. His usual habit of wearing tank tops underneath his jackets such a blessing for you right now.

Jake’s hands rubbed circles on your back as he pulled you closer. He lifted his head a bit, savouring the feeling of your lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on his neck.

With a light tug on his hair, a beautiful moan escaped his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

His eyes. So innocent. Not a single thought behind them except want. Need. Desire.

You peered up at him through your eyelashes. “No,” you teased. “What am I doing to you, baby?”

You were slightly breathless, as was he. You smiled up at him. His smile never seemed to leave his lips either.

“Is it okay for you to not do your good-girl thing for once and ditch practice?” He laughed.

“But I already have,” you chuckled.

“No, I meant ditch for real. I wanna take you home with me. Right now.”

“Then take me home, Jake. I’m all yours.”

[yallthemwitches]

An Act of Giving

Wrote this super quick for Jily Kinktober Day 5, prompt face sitting.

Would like to thank @daiz-nsfw for keeping the James munch agenda alive and well in this community. We thank you for your service.

AO3 Link here for all my Jily Kinktober work

“I hate to take you away from Lupin–I know you too really like to patrol together–”

“No, yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it.”

“To be honest, I just wanted you to myself—”

Lily blinked at him. Michael continued to smile, either unaware of the implication in his comment or completely shameless. With him it was always hard to tell. 

“Evans— Wheeler…”

Lily whipped around. James jogged up to them, his tie undone so it was swinging to the side. 

“Potter,” Michael's face twisted from a cool confidence to smug in a matter of seconds,“ Did you come to turn yourself in for one of your antics or are you just wanting to chat?”

James flashed a smile. “Oh Mr. Head Boy, I hate to disappoint but I only tell my secrets to those who deserve it.”

Michael frowned back, getting more annoyed the longer they stood there.

“But really, Potter. What do you want?”

“Evans actually–.” 

Lily felt her face rush with color, not going undetected by either boy. 

“---she promised me she’d give me her notes for potions.”

It wasn’t his best cover-up, but at least it was half the truth. Lily caught the hint.

“Oh, right! So sorry, Michael but our exam is tomorrow and I really did promise him…”

She started to back away and both boys followed her movement.

“I left them in Slughorn’s office actually–was planning to go back for them anyways.”

The ends of James’ lips curved upwards. “Brilliant, lead the way.”

She nodded curtly at Michael who bounced his gaze between her and James, mouth set. 

“Ok–see you tonight then.”

Lily and James turned the corner before Michael could parse out that something was amiss. Not even a corridor away, James ripped open the door of one of the many empty classrooms and Lily ducked inside it. 

She sat against a table and watched as James locked the door and silenced the room, a clear sign that he had not had as studious intentions as he had put on for the Head Boy. 

“Don’t want anyone to overhear my very secret potions notes?” Lily taunted.

James walked slowly to her and her heart rate accelerated. She wasn’t an idiot, she saw the look in his eye the minute he had approached them. He wanted her. Wanted her badly enough to interrupt whatever she was doing to get her alone.

Once she was at arms length, he grabbed for her, hands weaving through hair, mouth running up her neck in open mouth kisses, absolutely lost in his own desire. Lily wrapped her arms over his shoulders to tug at the messy tangle of hair on the back of his head, leaning into his lips which had burned a path to her jaw. 

“I missed you,” he panted out, making it to her mouth. She nipped at his lower lip and he let out a low noise, hands tightening around her. 

“It’s been three hours.”

“So you were counting too.”

With no other comment, he dropped to his knees. Guiding her gently to sit against the side of the table, his hands slid down the length of her legs before curling around into her lower thighs. Lily gripped the sides of the table as he commenced a slow tortuous ascent towards her center, kissing her inch by inch. 

“I’m the one who should be on my knees,” she hummed out, “you’ve already gone down on me once today.”

“Shhh, Evans,” he said while preoccupied with leaving nip marks on her thigh, “who said there was a limit to how many times I taste you anyways.”

He traveled up to the bottom of her skirt, sucking a patch of purple into her skin as he used both hands to crumple the fabric up towards the waistband. Ungluing his mouth, he straightened up for a moment, lips already swollen from his work. He fingered the waistband of her knickers with a pointer finger, pulling at the elastic as his finger flexed and straightened, a movement Lily knew too well from feeling it inside her. 

“Mr. Head Boy fancies you, you know.”

He didn’t look up from where he toyed with her knickers, now pulling them down as slow as possible so the tips of his fingers skimmed against her skin. 

“I heard him in the locker rooms after practice—he’s going to ask you out. Said he was going to switch your patrols to get you both alone–”

Lily’s breath deepened as her knickers were carelessly thrown aside and James situated himself back between her legs, hands on either side of her inner thigh.

“Hmm, is James Potter jealous?” 

“I dunno, should I be? You still haven’t said yes to me–”

It was hard to take him at face value when he was hovering his mouth over her clit. He didn’t move to go any closer, letting his breath wash over her, making her impossibly wetter every second he stayed there. 

“Michael’s not the one who has made me come today is he?” she teased.

James just smiled, eyes now dark. His hands tightened against her skin, leaving small indents in the soft flesh. 

“Correction Evans,” the words sent a shiver through her middle all the way up to her head, “He’s not the one who will have made you come twice today.”

He gave a small lick to the top of her clit, a teasing gesture he knew would make her squirm. Her hand jumped into his hair, holding his face as close as possible, unwilling to let up until she got what she wanted. 

“Potter—please—”

He didn’t need any more convincing. Lily had had other blokes go down on her before in the past, but something was different with James. Even from the beginning, it was like he had a map to her body. Knew every little spot: the places that made her squirm and edge towards release and the places that made her come on command, like a shock to her system. She liked that he took his time. It was always hard to believe when boys said they liked the taste of pussy, but with James she really believed it. He savored his time between her legs, taking it as a sacred act, one that he very often did without any reward for himself. 

His tongue moved a bit more rough than usual, pulsing into her each time he passed over to the other side. He hoisted a thigh onto the blade of his shoulder, getting a different angle to suck and lap at her. She kept her hands tightly wound into his hair, eyes glazed as he stared back up at her with an expression she could only describe as euphoric. 

“That’s it baby—just like that.”

She could feel her release mounting like a crackling energy within her stomach, but James lifted his head, mouth open and glistening.

She heard herself begin to plead, “No–no, don’t stop. Don’t talk—just keep–”

“Will you fuck my face?”

That got her attention. Her eyes searched his for a moment, waiting for an elaboration.

“I want you to ride my face until you come,” he said matter of fact.

“Oh, Christ—yes.”

James scrambled onto his feet before climbing himself onto the table. He was still fully clothed besides his tie which had been long lost since they entered the room and the fabric of his pants strained to keep his erection captive. 

Lily stood and undid her skirt before walking to the end of the table where his legs dangled and pulled herself up over him. Crawling her way up his body, she dipped her hips over his groin so her center grinded up against his clothed cock. James let out a hiss, grabbing at her hips and holding her in place for a second longer before ushering her to continue her climb. 

Positioned so she was hovering just under his mouth, he latched his arms around her thighs.

“One of these days Evans, I’m going to tie you to my bed and see how many times I can make you come with my tongue–.”

Lily hummed and grabbed his hair, tugging his mouth to meet her clit again.

“---but today, I want you to use me. Don’t hold back. I want to taste the way you come when your hips are grinding into my mouth–”

She dropped her body onto him, effectively clipping off his words. The change in angle brought a whole new perspective to his talent. His tongue flicked upwards into her, absolutely relentless, swirling in and out. Her hips moved instinctually, just as they would on his cock. Hips rolling against his mouth, letting him reach from the tip of her folds to the bud of her asshole. 

She thanked Merlin he had the thought to use a silencing charm. She could feel her vocalizations coming out of her mouth, but it was like everything was put on hold other than the movement of him beneath her. She could have been screaming or completely silent for all she knew, the only thing that mattered was James’ tongue coaxing her rapidly to climax. 

She clenched his hair, tilting his head up and pushing him deeper into her. Her other hand reached back, finding his erection and cupping it through his pants. The action made her back arch like a bow, taut and ready to snap. 

“I’m so close–keep going—” 

James never stopped watching her, glasses now askew and eyes dark and determined. He clenched harder into her thighs and propelled her with the movement of her hips, aiding in her grinding. Her body started to shake from her nearing release and he thrust his tongue deep inside her, suctioning his mouth to give a soft suck to her folds. 

The light of climax bubbled over. She quivered on top of him, moaning out his name as her hips kept moving of their own accord. Only in the final comedown did she realize that her whole lower half had been clenched against him, now sore with effort. 

James threw his head back, catching his breath as Lily scooted herself down to lay her head against his shoulder. Still completely hard, she snaked a hand down to climb under his waistband, but he stilled her, holding it flat against his stomach. 

“Let’s just be still for a minute.”

He tilted his head up to kiss the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her middle. 

“If I knew you being jealous would make you so giving then I would have put up with Michael a long time ago—”Lily huffed against his shoulder.

A rumble came from James' chest. His arm tightening against her. 

“So you are still considering humoring our dearest Head Boy?”

He was trying to sound cool, but she could hear the uncertainty behind his words. Lily pulled her head up to look into his eyes. They were still pools of ecstasy, just as happy to lay on the table with her as he was to make her come, never asking for anything in return. She softly drifted her thumb across his lip, feeling the result of her climax wet on his skin. 

“No, but I will consider whatever I need to do to get you to tie me down so I can’t do my patrols with him.”

He smiled, like he was born anew.

“I’ll be happy to assist.”

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

i. the beginning of the end

5 pm. you take a hearty stretch and lean backwards in your office chair to catch a glimpse of the orange sun that peeks through the window next to your cubicle. the city bustles below you, and you yawn as you shut the lid of your laptop and carefully place it in your bag. headphones on before you even step foot out the door, you make your way to the railway station as quickly as you can. you’re just in time for the next train, so you hurry up the stairs, slightly out of breath when you get to the platform. you murmur a thanks to the officer at the door of the train and grab onto the railings. a small chime resounds in your pocket and you pull your phone out. it’s a message from kazuha. actually, five.

kazu <3: [1 attachment] kazu <3: i met this cat on the way back from work! her name is mei :) kazu <3: have you left work yet? kazu <3: could you please swing by the grocery store real quick on your way back? i was going to make dinner, but noticed that we ran out of salt kazu <3: i hope you haven’t troubled yourself to do it, i just found the reserve!! a nice dinner awaits you 😁

you can feel your heart doing backflips in your ribcage and you can’t seem to stop the grin that erupts on your face. you type in a quick i just left work! <3 and hold your phone close to your heart. it’s been over four years, and kazuha still makes you feel the same butterflies that you did when you first started dating.

the sky looks beautiful today, you remark to yourself as you step out of the train at your station. it is littered with stars and the moon shines bright. some of the stars break out into lines, disappearing in the darkness. meteors. something about the scene felt off, but you just couldn’t put a finger to why it felt that way.

you decide to stop by the grocery store anyway, and sift through the aisles for those snacks that your boyfriend loved. your eyes wander to the television screen mounted to the wall as the cashier billed your items. but before you can make sense of anything that’s on display, it is your time to pay up and leave.

“welcome back!” kazuha’s ears catch the faint sound of the door unlocking all the way from the kitchen, and he turns down the flame so he could come out to greet you. you set the grocery bag down and wrap your arms around him in a hug. “i missed you.”

“so did i, my love. i’m making your favourite for dinner!” he presses a quick kiss to your forehead and frees himself from your grip, eliciting a little whine from you. “i got you,” you bring the carrybag into the kitchen and drop it onto the counter. “those fish snacks you really like.” kazuha’s back is turned to you, but you swear you can hear his smile through his words of gratitude. his hair is tied up into a bun, red streak hanging freely to the side. you wish you could freeze this moment in time (and you do so by whipping out your phone and clicking a picture really quickly). you can’t help it, he just looks so pretty like this.

in the next five minutes, dinner gets ready and you get to work flicking through the channels on your television, looking for something to watch. truly the hardest part of dinner. you pause from flicking through for a minute, and begin to lazily scroll through your phone. whatever happens to be playing on the TV turns into background noise to your ears, until you look up for just a second and catch the flashing headline on the bottom: ‘is the universe dying?’

it’s probably not true, you think to yourself, but decide to humour the newsreporter anyway. scientists at NASA have learnt that the universe is expanding at a very accelerated rate! they don’t know why, but the value of the cosmological constant has been increasing exponentially over the past weeks. this brings us to a theory popularly known as the heat death of the universe—

this has got to be a prank. you switch away.

the next news channel that you land on, also is going on about the same thing. and so are all the others that you move through. “interesting,” you mumble.

“what is?” kazuha emerges from the kitchen, casserole in his hands. he carefully places it down onto the coffee table and takes a place next to you on the couch. suddenly, everything feels so very real to you. the slow breeze wafting in through the window, the aroma of the blend of spices in the casserole right in front of you. the man at your side, snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer. “can you believe everyone thinks the universe is going to end soon?”

kazuha’s hands are on your head now, gentle motions through your hair. “well, it’s not going to matter all that much, is it?” and you realise that he’s right. you would still be right here, with your lover, until the earth either burns up or freezes over, and that is all that matters to you, you realise. the night falls as the two of you sing together in the kitchen while scrubbing away at the dishes.

masterlist // next

taglist !

@th3-steambird

[please send me an ask or DM if you would like to be added ♡]

[endofradio]

PROVE MY LOVE

WARNINGS: NSFW (but like… it’s 🌽 with feeling. they start smashing towards the end 💀)

RELATIONSHIP: FRANK / ORIGINAL CHARACTER (SYLVIE)

NOTES: this is a draft of a scene i’ve got planned for a future fic! i’ll probably be posting more drafts along the way because this is fun tbh. also, this scene takes place in frank’s apartment.

SUMMARY: frustrated by the fact sylvie seems to be questioning his reasons for saving her life, frank decides to tell her — and show her — how he really feels about her.

WORD COUNT: 4,032 (yeah it’s long)

TAGS: @reclaimedbythesea @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @blackwolfstabs @shawsfinalgirl @atcarpenter

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! helps keep me motivated <3

————————————————————————

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Sylvie asked the question carefully, a sense of confusion flickering in her gaze. “Why did you choose to save my life? You… you tried to kill me, and now…”

As she looked up at Frank, she could see him look away from her for a moment. When he looked back at her, his already-cold gaze had hardened. “Well, I suppose I had a change of heart, huh?” He shot back, a bitter smile curling at his lips. “Sure, maybe I hurt you, and I am a piece of shit, but… did you really think I was gonna let you just fuckin’ die like that?” He was getting closer to her now, practically staring into her goddamn soul.

Sylvie swallowed nervously, taking a couple steps backward. “You tried. To fucking. Kill me.” She repeated, stopping at every couple of words to let them sink in. “You could’ve just let me die, but you didn’t. Why?”

Why? That question repeated over and over again in Frank’s mind. He could feel the wall he had built around himself slowly crumbling. He couldn’t be vulnerable. Vulnerability was a weakness. Yet, this woman standing in front of him was fucking breaking him. There was a much deeper reason he had chosen to save her besides “having a change of heart,” but of course he wasn’t going to fucking admit that, not yet. Trying to mask his emotional turmoil was only proving to be becoming significantly more difficult for him right now.

So, Frank just shook his head and let out a bitter chuckle. “You really don’t fuckin’ get it, do you?” He snidely asked, taking a step closer towards Sylvie. He let out a bitter scoff. “God, you really are a stubborn little brat, aren’t you?” Yeah, he was being an asshole right now, but it was just a front. He was desperately trying to hold back from just fucking saying it.

“What is there to get?” Sylvie questioned, narrowing her eyes at Frank. As for her, she was experiencing her own tumultuous whirlwind of emotions and thoughts.

“What is there to— oh, Jesus. If only you fuckin’ knew what goes on inside my goddamn head.” Frank knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer. Jesus Christ, he needed her to understand. When he looked at Sylvie, she seemed only more confused, and it was pissing him off. He continued to walk towards her as she backed away from him, until her back was nearly pressed against the kitchen counter. He could tell she was getting nervous. Afraid, even. The idea was almost physically painful to Frank.

“You have no clue, no fuckin’ clue what you put me through.” Frank hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Wouldn’t you just love to know?”

“Yeah, I would like to know.” Sylvie answered, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. Frank picked up on the way her breathing was quickening, how her heart rate was accelerating ever so slightly… why was she so afraid? Yeah, perhaps he knew he was scaring her, but he couldn’t help it. He was a jackass. She was occasionally avoiding eye contact with him, her eyes darting in different directions. Frank couldn’t handle it.

Maybe a little too roughly, he reached to grab Sylvie’s chin, tilting it so she was looking directly at him. “You truly, truly piss me off sometimes, you know that?” He asked, his voice lowering. “You make me confused. One second, I wanna just… I don’t know, snap at you. Taunt you. Get under your skin as I usually do.”

Frank paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. Then, he continued.

“But then, I…” His eyes briefly flickered down to Sylvie’s lips. Shit. He looked back into her eyes, suddenly feeling as though he couldn’t speak. “I… wanna kiss you until you can’t. Fuckin’. Breathe. Until all you can think about is me. Until you forget your own goddamn name. Until…” Frank tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, but they were just spilling out of his mouth. Now, all he could think about was kissing her, tasting her. Snap out of it already!

He looked away from her for a moment, tightly shutting his eyes. Even then, the thoughts only persisted, getting stronger with each second. He just wanted to have his hands all over her.

Frank tightened his grip on Sylvie’s chin just a little, and when he looked at her… god, the way she was looking at him, with her soft, brown eyes all wide, and… was that a tear glistening in her left eye? Why did she look beautiful like this? Fucking hell, he was fighting demons.

“How do you feel about me?” He then harshly asked. “Don’t lie, either. I’ll know if you are.”

Sylvie drew in a deep, unsteady breath. How the hell was she supposed to answer that question? It wasn’t an easy one. She didn’t know how to phrase what she was feeling, what she was thinking. She didn’t know what the fuck to say.

“Answer me.” Frank hissed through gritted teeth. Part of him felt guilty for acting like this, but he just couldn’t help it. He was just… frustrated.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” Sylvie weakly whispered. “I mean, I… I feel like you…”

“Like I what?”

“Like you only want to use me.”

Frank rolled his eyes and stepped away from Sylvie, taking a deep breath. He began to pace around the kitchen like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair. He knew he was an asshole, but for some reason he couldn’t handle Sylvie thinking of him as that much of an asshole. He had tried to push down his feelings for her, tried to seem like he didn’t care. Now, Sylvie was truly under the impression that Frank didn’t give a shit about her, and for some reason… he didn’t like that.

“You seriously fuckin’ think that?” He asked, before approaching Sylvie again. He placed both hands on either side of the kitchen counter, trapping her. “I mean, sure. Maybe I am a heartless bastard, but… fuck. You’re so goddamn oblivious.”

“What…?” Sylvie’s eyes were glazing over with tears even more. Fuck. “What are you… trying to say?”

Frank could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breathing getting faster. He was desperately clinging onto the self-control that he did have.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy. I hope you realize that.” He whispered, a sardonic half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You make me feel like I’m about to lose my goddamn mind. You’re… you’re like a fuckin’ parasite.”

Sylvie could feel her breath getting caught in her throat. Wait… so did he feel the same way she did? She thought he didn’t, she thought her feelings were completely one-sided. He had drained her of so much blood and could’ve just left her to die, but… he didn’t. All her life, Sylvie had never experienced even just a little bit of compassion that was directed at her. Of course she was in denial. Coming from someone like Frank, it was even more difficult to comprehend.

Frank got even closer to Sylvie, their faces now inches apart from each other. He could feel her warm breath and the fiery tension that was crackling in the air.

“What am I… to you?” Sylvie quietly asked.

That question just about did it for Frank. As irritation built up within him along with a flaming desire, he swiftly reached to grab her face, claiming Sylvie’s lips in a kiss that was full of both frustration and passion. She was caught off-guard by the suddenness of the kiss, her eyes widening for a moment as her breath hitched. Then, she slowly relaxed into it, her eyes gently fluttering shut.

The kiss was slow at first, but as Frank felt his self-control slipping further, it became more intense. He moved a hand away from Sylvie’s face to grab at her waist, suddenly feeling a surge of possessiveness. He felt her reaching to touch his face, and that really sent him over the edge. Frank frantically began to place kisses along Sylvie’s jawline, down her neck… and then he swiftly lifted her up, placing her on top of the kitchen counter. That was when he realized just how small she really was in comparison to him — he was nearly a foot taller than her.

Frank’s lips met Sylvie’s again, and his hands were practically all over her as he urgently deepened the kiss. He could feel her slowly melting into him and letting go, and it was only adding fuel to the fire. The way she wrapped her arms around his neck, combing her fingers through his hair… it was the kind of thing Frank only thought he could dream about. This was different from the first and only other time they had done something like this — there was passion, genuine passion. Frank’s mind started to wander to that particular moment. He could just hear Sylvie quietly whimpering his real name, how good it sounded. He couldn’t get the image out of his head of the way Sylvie had looked underneath him with her cheeks all flushed… and the way she looked when she had been on top of him— alright, Frank. That’s enough. That can all happen again later.

“Why do you let me… do this…?” Frank quietly asked in between kisses. “Y’know I’m not… good for you…”

Sylvie’s heart was beating out of her chest. She just wanted to say those three words that she’d been trying to hold back from saying… but she couldn’t. Part of her was scared to, still afraid that Frank didn’t really feel the same way and only felt lust for her, nothing else. She had lived a miserable life of rejection.

“I… I know…” She whispered, her breath shaking.

“You just can’t… pull away, huh? You’re just… wrapped around my finger… aren’t you?”

“M… mhm…”

Frank smirked a little against Sylvie’s lips. “That’s what I thought… you’ve got me wrapped around yours, too.”

He started roughly kissing her again. He just couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her — she was like a drug to him. He pushed Sylvie’s shirt up just a little, just so he could feel her skin, and the sensation of Frank’s cold hand on her bare waist was sending chills down her spine, and her breath hitched just a bit.

“You remember that… one time we slept together?” Frank murmured, his kisses now trailing down to Sylvie’s neck again, specifically the side where the scarred-over bite wound was — the one he had inflicted. The realization gave him another surge of possessiveness. The scar was a reminder — a reminder of how Sylvie belonged to him.

“I didn’t want that to end.” Frank quietly continued, his hands continuing to gently caress her body. “I was… disappointed… when I woke up and… and you weren’t there.”

“Really…?” Sylvie asked. As she felt Frank kissing her neck, she shivered just a bit. She couldn’t believe how good he was able to make her feel.

“I wanted that moment… to last forever…” Frank continued, murmuring against her neck. Slowly, his hand began to travel up Sylvie’s skirt, his fingers gently grazing her thigh. As he felt a sudden wave of desire come over him, Frank left a gentle bite on her neck. “You felt… so good…” His voice had started to get rougher, huskier.

Frank heard a small gasp from Sylvie, and he quickly moved his head away from her neck to look down at her. Quickly, he kissed her again, his hands roaming back to her waist and grabbing at it desperately.

Before Sylvie could even say anything, Frank lifted her up off of the kitchen counter. Being in his arms like this, so high above ground… it was making Sylvie’s heart race even more, perhaps from a combination of anxiety and also desire. With his newly-obtained abilities, Frank could easily pick up on any emotion Sylvie was feeling. If she was afraid, he could practically smell it — right now, he could. He looked up at her, brushing a dark strand of hair away from her face. On the other hand, he could also sense the desire she was feeling. It was only encouraging him.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

Sylvie slowly nodded. “Afraid of heights, I guess.” She answered quietly. “You’re just… really tall.”

“No one’s ever done this to you before, huh?” Frank asked, a small smirk forming on his face. Sylvie shook her head in response. All of this that she had experienced with Frank — genuine passionate kissing, sex that made her actually feel something… she had never experienced it with anybody before, and to think it was her former worst enemy making her feel all of these things…

“Well, you’re not gonna fall.” Frank quietly spoke, before taking her lips in another deep kiss as he carried her off towards his bedroom.

Once they got to the bedroom, things became progressively more heated. They were on the bed within moments, Sylvie quickly straddling him as they roughly kissed once again. As they did, Sylvie felt Frank shift underneath her as he moved to unbutton his pants, before she heard the sound of him unzipping them. Moving his hands back to her body, Frank began to slowly move them down Sylvie’s slender form, before slipping a hand under her black lace skirt, sliding his hand slowly up her thigh, pausing once he had reached her panties. He let his hand linger there for a moment, before hooking his fingers around the waistband. With a slow, gradual movement, he pulled the material down to her legs. Sylvie finished the job for him, breaking the kiss and freeing herself of the fabric, tossing it on the floor. She adjusted her position, hovering above Frank’s undone pants just a little. She looked down for a moment before her gaze met Frank’s again.

By now, his hands had wandered to her hips, keeping a firm grip on them. He looked into her eyes, his own having darkened with desire. “Don’t keep me waitin’…” He whispered roughly, pulling Sylvie closer against him as he claimed her mouth in what was close to probably being the hundredth kiss of the night so far. He truly was just that desperate for her, especially right now.

Just as Sylvie was about to take things further, there was the sudden sound of thunder outside. Frank broke the kiss for a moment to smirk against her lips, looking up at her.

“Ever fucked to a thunderstorm?” He slyly asked. “It’s quite nice, really — makes it all the more… intense.”

Sylvie chuckled sheepishly. “No, I… I haven’t.”

“Well… would you like to know what it’s… like?”

Sylvie slowly nodded, and that was when Frank pulled her into yet another hungry kiss. She slowly lowered herself a little more, and with a single motion, rocked her hips just a little, gently brushing against Frank but not enough to completely take him in. The sensation was enough to cause her to quietly gasp against his lips.

As Frank’s tongue slipped into her mouth, Sylvie felt him suddenly press his hips upwards into her, and she let out another gasp. He gripped her hips again and slowly began to guide her into a gentle rhythm, thunder continuing to crackle outside.

Then, those three words slipped from Sylvie’s mouth. “I… I love you…” She quietly murmured against Frank’s lips.

The admission hit Frank full-force like a goddamn semi-truck. Part of him wanted to deny it, but the way she said it was so vulnerable.

“Say it… say it again.” Frank pleaded. “So I… know it’s… real.”

“I’m in… love with you… Adam…”

The way she said his name… goddamnit. It was making his stomach do somersaults. How the hell was he supposed to control himself now?

“You’re… you’re serious…” He murmured. Frank honestly hadn’t expected Sylvie to actually be in love with him. In his mind, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Hell, he didn’t even think he was capable of being loved by anybody. Choosing to save her was the only act of compassion he had ever displayed towards her, and part of him still wanted to question why he had done it.

“Love” normally meant nothing to Frank, but now that he had heard Sylvie say those words, he just wanted to hear them over and over and over again. He wanted to say he was in love with her too — because he most likely was — but that one emotionless, cold side of him couldn’t bring himself to admit it. The idea of actually loving somebody was terrifying to Frank — he only knew how to discard somebody and move on to the next. He had abandoned his family without a care in the world to dabble in the criminal life. How was he capable of being in love? He wasn’t a nice person. He wasn’t a good person. Yet, for some reason, he was now suddenly obsessed with the idea of Sylvie being in love with him.

“Why…?” Frank quietly asked. “You’re too… good for me.”

Sylvie reached to gently cup Frank’s face with her hands. “I don’t… care…” She whispered in response. “I can’t… stay away from you…”

“Why…?”

“You’re the… only person… who’s made me feel this way.”

Frank’s eyes widened at Sylvie’s words. “You’ve never…?” He couldn’t grasp the idea that he might’ve just been the only person Sylvie had ever loved.

Sylvie shook her head. “No…”

“We’re just a couple of fuck-ups, aren’t we?” Frank chuckled sardonically, planting another kiss to Sylvie’s lips. “You used to tell me to go fuck myself, y’know… now you love me?”

“Change of heart, I guess.” Sylvie responded half-mockingly, before wrapping her legs around Frank’s waist, trying to be even more physically close to him.

As the thunder outside intensified, Frank felt a sudden jolt of pleasure hit him, and he leaned back a bit, his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his eyes fluttering shut as his grip on Sylvie’s hips tightened even further. Sylvie took the opportunity to unzip Frank’s jacket, sliding it over his shoulders to reveal the white tank top he wore underneath. Then, she leaned forward and began to place feverish kisses along his neck and jawline, just as he had previously done to her. In response, he breathed a sigh of pleasure, giving Sylvie a sudden rush of confidence.

The sensation of Frank gently matching her rhythm underneath her caused Sylvie to feel a sudden shockwave of pleasure shoot throughout her body, and she threw her head back, gently closing her eyes in ecstasy as she let a quiet moan fall from her lips.

Following a sudden crash of thunder, Frank abruptly snapped his hips upwards, grabbing Sylvie’s hips impossibly tighter and pulling her further down onto him. She let out a yelp at the feeling, trying to keep herself stable by gripping onto the headboard with one hand, her other firmly placed on Frank’s chest. “Oh my god…” She whimpered as Frank guided her into a more urgent rhythm, the bed quietly creaking. “I… oh, Jesus…”

Sylvie’s breathing was slowly turning into panting, and she didn’t know how much longer she could continue at this point. Gasping and whimpering, she was slowly unraveling before Frank’s eyes.

Frank was desperately fighting the urge to just flip them over and show Sylvie just how much she really drove him insane. As he opened his eyes, he looked up at her with a wide-eyed gaze of adoration. The way her lips were parted, her eyes closed. Frank didn’t think he had ever seen something so beautiful, until now. It was an image he never wanted to get out of his head, and the sounds she made — they were heavenly.

That was when Frank decided he couldn’t take it anymore, and he quickly pushed Sylvie down onto the bed, quickly climbing on top of her as though he was a predator trying to capture its prey. Sylvie let out a slight gasp of surprise, and seeing the predatory gaze in Frank’s eyes was making her feel something… was it desire?

Without any hesitation, Frank quickly grabbed Sylvie’s chin, tilting it upwards as he began to hungrily kiss her. With his other hand, he firmly grabbed at her, pulling her as close to him as he could as he started deeply rocking his hips against hers. The whole time, he kept a tight grip on her waist, almost as though she’d disappear from him if he let go. Sylvie was so small, so fragile — Frank realized how easy it would be to just manhandle her.

“I love you…” Sylvie whispered against his lips. Now that she had said it once, she couldn’t stop saying it. “I can’t… I can’t get enough of you...”

Sylvie’s vulnerability was ripping Frank to shreds. She really did mean what she was saying, and he couldn’t believe it. Even though he was a piece of shit and had done nothing to earn anything from her, she still loved him. Honestly, he felt… bad for her. There were probably so many people who would be better for her, yet she chose him.

Frank’s kisses wandered down to Sylvie’s jawline, neck, collarbone… he was kissing her all over. Desperate to feel more of her skin against his lips, he quickly pulled her shirt over her head, admiring her body before trailing kisses down her chest. “Why me…?” He murmured against her skin.

“I’ve never… loved somebody before…” Sylvie quietly answered.

“Me neither…” Until Sylvie, but of course he couldn’t bring himself to admit that just yet. Deciding to be a little humorous, Frank smirked against her chest. “You just have a thing for jackasses, huh?”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Sylvie was more drawn to the wrong type of guy — she only knew cruelty, not love.

“Do you… love me?” Sylvie then asked.

The question caught Frank by slight surprise. His eyes met hers, and then he pulled her impossibly closer to him as he continued to slowly move his hips.

Just say it, goddamnit. It’s not that hard.

The way Sylvie was looking into his eyes wasn’t helping. She looked so hopeful. Jesus, how fucking hurt was she to the point she wanted him to love her… out of all people?

Swallowing, he nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. Frank loved her, but in a way he didn’t understand. It was too complicated to explain.

At Frank’s nod, Sylvie pulled him into another kiss, and that was enough to pull Frank out of his inner turmoil, even if just for a little while. He groaned quietly into the kiss, furrowing his brows as he felt his desire for her take hold. His pace gradually became more urgent, and he buried his face in the crook of Sylvie’s neck. She arched her back a bit, nails digging into his back through his tank top as she held onto him. Judging by her gentle whimpers and gasps, Frank could tell she was getting closer to the edge… and he was determined to get her there.

“Mine…” He murmured against her neck, leaving a trail of small bites and desperate kisses once again. “Only mine… only… mine…”

Frank knew he couldn’t hold much longer, either. His movements became more desperate, his nails digging into her hips. He suddenly realized he needed to see Sylvie coming undone on top of him, and he quickly flipped them over again, desperately pulling Sylvie onto him.

Sylvie was just about seeing stars at this point, feeling that familiar tension building up within her abdomen. “I can’t…” She whined. “I… oh my god…”

There was another crack of thunder as the storm grew more intense, and Sylvie frantically kissed Frank to muffle her moans as they both finally let go, continuing to slowly move together as they rode out their intense, shared high, the storm outside only adding to it all.

[hxney-lemcn]

The Fall — Connor x gn! demi! reader

summery: Connor asks a personal question which leads to reader explaining their sexual orientation. Which ends up in a confession and fluffiness.

tw: anxiety attack, mentions of being invalidated

a/n: Super self indulgent. I may be aroace but I will live in this fantasy as long as I want.

wc: 1.5k

Master List

I felt frustrated. Oh so frustrated. I typically would spend my spare time reading. No, not reading novels or books like I probably should. It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but yes. I read fanfic. It’s not a crime, okay. But recently, I couldn’t pay attention to it, my mind drifting off to someone else instead. Every time too. I would be reading about my favorite characters and then think about him instead. Which led me to stare at my phone when I had free time and come up with scenarios that would potentially befall us. Not only did it waste my phone battery, but it also makes me look dumb just staring at nothing. 

I found myself in a similar situation at the moment. The t.v. droned on, some video or show, I wasn’t completely sure. I let out a small huff, tossing my phone gently onto my stomach. I turned my gaze to Connor, who happened to already be staring at me. 

Connor invited me out to Hank's house today. Just to hang out. I accepted, deeming that I need to socialize with people more…and maybe because that meant I could hang out with Connor. Hank was off who knows where, telling Sumo to watch over us. Which led us to sit on the couch and watch something. I was curled into one side of the couch, a light blanket keeping me warm.

“May I ask a personal question?” Connor asked, head tilting to the side in that cute puppy-like manner. 

“Shoot,” I replied, putting my full attention on him. 

“Have you ever been in a romantic relationship?” He asked, curious brown eyes boring into me. 

A range of emotions washed over me. Nervousness as to the implications this could mean, but also nervousness to what I was going to have to explain. I’m demiromantic, which meant that I had to get to know a person real well before even thinking about entering a romantic relationship with them. But I never really liked anyone like that for years…until now. 

Which meant that I had little to no experience when it came to dating. And I honestly believed that it would stay that way. Which I didn’t mind, don’t get me wrong. I was content on my own with my pets…but I always wanted something more with someone. To be special to someone. Which led me to reading fanfic. 

“No,” I replied hesitantly. 

Connor’s brows furrowed, a slight frown settled on his lips, “I don’t understand.”

I frowned in confusion as well, “What don’t you get?” His stare moved back to me and it was intense, some feeling I couldn’t put my finger on was swimming through his eyes.

“How someone as amazing as you haven’t found anyone yet,” Connor stated. 

I felt my heart rate accelerate and I tried to hide how flustered that statement made me, but I also knew he could scan me and find out without me even realizing. How could he say something like that so unabashed? He thinks I’m amazing? Does that mean he admires me? God, the thought alone made me feel all warm and fuzzy. 

“It’s…hard to explain,” I shrugged, looking towards the t.v. only to notice it was shut off. Connor stayed silent, eyes pleading for me to continue. I let out a small sigh, ready to fall into the usual spiel, “I’m demiromantic. I need to get to know someone real well before even thinking about anything more than friends, and the people I start to like never really saw me as anything more than a friend so I’ve never dated or anything.”

“How long does it take for you to gain these romantic interests? If I may ask,” Connor asked, his body moving closer in curiosity. 

Once again I just shrugged, trying to not think about how surprisingly quick I found myself falling for the handsome android sitting next to me. It still took longer than what the media portrays, at least a month, but that was quick for me. 

“It depends,” I finally answered. “I haven’t been interested in many people, I could probably count the amount on one hand.” I let out a small chuckle at the thought. “Why do you ask?”

My eyes were drawn to Connor’s led as it spun yellow. It even blinked red for a second and I grew concerned. Did…was he going to invalidate me somehow? Tell me I’m just trying to label myself and that what I felt was normal? It’s happened more than I’d like to think, but I trusted Connor, so if he said anything like that I wasn’t sure what I’d do. 

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” Connor finally managed to speak out. I moved to sit more upright, scooting closer to him. I gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to relax a bit under me, the artificial muscles moving under my hand. 

“I trust you, Connor,” I spoke up. “I know if something comes out wrong you don’t mean it in a bad way.” 

“That’s not,” Connor huffed, shaking his head. My eyes fell onto that small piece of hair on his forehead, but I ignored the urge to push it back into place. His led once again blipped red before settling on yellow. “You produce these feelings inside of me, things I haven’t felt around anyone else. Hank has made some comments…and I believe this feeling is love, or strong attraction at the very least, but with this newfound information…”

Connor’s concerned, fearful look along with all the words he just spoke put my brain in overdrive. What? He…no. No…I…do I like him like that? I mean, yes I’m attracted to him, and yes, the idea of being in a relationship with him makes my heart pound faster. 

I pulled my hand away from him, scooting away slightly. I clenched my fists against my knees, staring down at the carpet floor like it would give me all the answers. I barely recognized his honeyed voice call my name in concern. I didn’t notice how his led settled on a deep red. I was too wrapped up in my own feelings, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. 

Scared, I was scared. Isn’t this what I wanted? Someone to like me? But was I in love with the idea of that? Or did I actually like Connor? I don’t want to start a relationship with the wrong intentions. Connor doesn’t deserve to be hurt. But I really really like him. Yeah, I like him. As a person. I like spending time with him. I like talking with him, I like helping him with his still newfound deviancy. 

Oh god, what if he only liked me because I was the first person to be kind to him? No, no it’s not my place to question his feelings. It’s all new to him as well. This is new to both of us…the thought alone made me relax a bit. I took a deep breath, and then another. Would it hurt to just try out a relationship? It’s Connor after all, and if it doesn’t work I don’t think it’d end too terribly…

With one last deep breath, I opened my eyes, feeling a lot calmer than I did a few seconds ago. I felt guilty as Connor fidgeted with his quarter, led bright red, eyes searching for something in mine. 

“Sorry,” I apologized nervously. “I…just got a bit overwhelmed.” Connor looked scared, he opened his mouth, but closed it. He seemed afraid he’d say something wrong. 

“Like I said, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship,” I explained. “And…I guess I kinda thought I’d never get a chance. So you saying that you…” The word felt heavy as it sat on my tongue. “...are strongly attracted to me…I guess it kinda scared me. I’ve never dealt with this before, and didn’t think I’d have to. Not that it’s bad or anything! Because I like you too, I’m just…scared.”

Connors led spun yellow, processing what I had just said. Finally it settled on a serene blue, his face morphed from fear, to relief, to settling on pure joy.

“I also don’t have experience in this field,” Connor replied. “I was built with a social programme, but it didn’t include anything to do with romantic human relations. I would like to learn with you.” 

Heat simmered through me, heart beating faster and I felt inexplicably happy. So happy, I had no idea what to do with this newfound energy bursting through me. I stared at Connor, his cute freckles, deep brown eyes, perfect eyebrows, full lips, to that damned piece of hair still out of place. It was hard to believe someone who looked so perfect would want to be with me. 

Trying to calm myself from doing something I’d regret, I lifted my hand up and brushed that piece of hair up and into place. Connor closed his eyes, tilting his head closer to my hand. I couldn’t help but marvel at how soft his hair felt. 

Continuing to brush his hair gently, I finally replied, “I wouldn’t want to learn with anyone else.”

Connor opened his eyes, his smile seeming to split at the seams. My heartrate spiked once more as I finally could put a word to the look in his eyes when he looked at me. Love.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello, may I please request Jeff Clarke from chicago fire. With the prompt 34. There’s no chance in hell?

Tagging: @kmc1989  @witches-unruly-heart  @telepathay    @iworldlywriter @caffeinatedwoman @winchesterszvonecek @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @skyesthebomb @neapolitantoebeans @olymosity @stxrryswvrld @courtney-elizabeth93

The scent of smoke still clings to Jeff’s skin as he sits in a treatment bay in Chicago Med waiting for you. There’s ash smeared across his cheeks, his uniform clings to his form, sticky with perspiration. He looks like hell. He knows he does.

That last fire it had been bad one. He almost hadn’t made it out. When that beam came down he thought he was a goner and all he could think about was the things he hadn’t done. That’s why he’s here right now because he can’t go another second without showing you how he feels.

You’re smiling when you step into the treatment room, it’s a rare, beautiful thing and it lights up Jeff’s entire world.

"What can I do for you Lieutenant?" You ask him, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and his voice just dies because now that he’s here, he’s realising there isn’t a chance in hell a girl like you can fall for a guy like him.

"I seem to be suffering from an accelerated heart rate." He finds himself telling you.

He isn’t lying, everytime he looks at you he feels this way. Somehow you’re both enticing and terrifying all at the same time.

"Hm." You make the noise low in your throat, removing the  stereoscope from around your neck before you place it on his chest. He can feel the press of the cool disk through the fabric of his t-shirt, you lean in close and the scent of jasmine floods his senses. His body tightens in response to your proximity and he can’t help but wonder if you’d taste the same under his lips.

"Your heart rate’s is pretty fast.” You say quietly, your eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Were there any symptoms before this?"

"I've felt it coming on for a while." he admits, trying to clear his throat against the huskiness he could hear lacing in his voice.

"Any dizzy spells?" You ask him, removing the stethoscope. "Headaches?"

"No." Jeff says gruffly before raising to his feet. “Noelle…”

You’ve forgotten how tall he is, how well his stature fits with his broad shoulders and toned thighs. You tilt your hand up to meet his gaze and he sighs as he looks down at you. His large hands encompass your features, his calloused thumbs sweeping over your cheeks. His lips brush over yours and the moment they do you’re lost.

There’s a softness in his kiss, a tenderness you don’t expect. Your palms come to rest on his chest and you can feel the firmness of the muscle underneath your fingertips.

It’s the crackle of his radio that interrupts you. Jeff draws away unwillingly, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as his thumb traces over the line of your jaw.

“I need to…”

“Go.” You whisper against his lips, before you give him a gentle push. “I’ll catch up with you at Molly’s later tonight.”

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[meetmyothersouls]

Back To You

Jonah Hauer-King x Reader

Literally writing this because I want to 🥰 this will be a multi-part series on how love always manages to find its way back to where it’s supposed to be. Some trigger warnings: car accident, memory loss, unborn child loss (mentioned), hospital.

Chapter 1

I wake up in to the sounds of repetitive beeping and distant accented voices. I can’t make out who any of them are or what they’re saying other than a few words here and there. I squint my eyes, as if the motion will help me hear what they’re saying. I’m able focus on two voices that sound particularly worried. One is a male. British. The other is familiar. My sister?

As quick as I’m able to pick them up I lose them to the overwhelming pain that hits me well…everywhere. My head, my back, my stomach. It must make my heart rate accelerate because the machine next to me starts beeping rapidly and uncontrollably, the noise mixed with the pain makes me feel nauseous.

A doctor and a few nurses rush in.

“She’s awake!” A nurse calls out to the male voice and my sister (I think) in the hall.

“Oh thank god,” the man says. I see a glimpse of him before the curtain to my room is shut. From what I see I do not know him. And that confuses me even more than the soft accent he speaks with.

“Hello, y/n, it’s so nice to see you awake,” a man that I assume is a doctor says. He’s British also. What’s with that? “We thought you’d sleep another few days, but this is great news. Great progress. Tell me now, what’s hurting you?”

“Everything,” I groan, as a female nurse with a kind smile wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm. Even lifting it hurts.

“Pressures within range,” she says a few moments after with, of course, a British accent.

The doctor, who had stepped out after assessing my pain level, reappears with a syringe. “This is for your pain, but it won’t knock you out. Now that you’re up we’d like to keep you awake, make some assessments.”

The doctor injects me and within minutes I feel my pain ebbing away. “I’m sorry, but what the hell happened?”

The doctor, who’s name is Vincent, which I can now make out by the embroidery on his white coat, gives me a tight smile. “You were in a car accident, y/n, you suffered many injuries including a grade four concussion, among others which I won’t overwhelm you with now.”

Dr. Vincent steps out and this time I can hear his whispers. “She’s stable and alert and that’s what’s important. We worry about memory loss with the type of head injury she sustained, so don’t be alarmed if she doesn’t seem like her self or seems to have lapses in memory. They’ll come back as her head and brain heal.”

The British man says words I can’t hear even when I strain to do so.

“Just be patient with her,” Dr. Vincent replies. “I only want one of you in to see her at a time as to not overwhelm her. Which ever one of you would like to see her first is welcome to.”

There’s a moment of silence followed by more whispering until I finally see a familiar face. My sister pushes open the curtain and runs to my side. She’s on her knees in an instant, taking my hand into hers. I catch a peek of the man in the hall before the curtain flutters closed. This time he’s not peering into my room. He’s pacing and I see him run a hand over his face.

“Y/n, thank god. We thought we were going to lose you too,” Haven says.

Who else did we lose?

“I came as soon as Jonah called. He’s a mess, y/n.”

Who the fuck is Jonah?

“Are you okay? How’s your head? How’s your stomach?” Her hands goes to my belly and then she pulls it away, awkwardly.

“Haven, I have no idea what happened. What’s going on? Where am I? Everyone’s fucking British but us.”

I can see the worry in her eyes. The type that she thinks I can’t see, but I know is there when she’s not trying to panic. She’s not good at hiding it.

“The doctor said not overwhelm you.”

“Well then tell me something!”

“You were in a car accident and got really hurt, y/n. They had to pull you out of the car and revive you on the side of the road.”

Holy shit. I fucking died. But I’m here and I’m in one piece. The severity of the situation sinks in and it must be evident on my face since Haven is nodding in agreement. “You’re lucky to be alive, y/n,” Haven adds her eyes moving down to my stomach again. “And I guess since you asked, everyone’s British because you’re in England.”

The room begins to spin as I digest her words. “Wait. What? When the fuck? Why am I in England!?”

“You don’t-”

The curtain swipes open in a fast motion and the man from the other side storms in. His face is full of emotion, none of which I can place. Now that I see him in his entirety, he’s very attractive, even through the flurry of emotions he’s wearing and the obvious lack of sleep, his eyes are kind. He’s at least six foot tall. He has to duck under the curtain rod closing off my room to keep from hitting his head. His dark hair is messy, which matches the sleepy eyes. If I wasn’t totally numb from the pain medication, I’d definitely try to get his attention.

Except, I don’t have to try at all. He’s focused on me and relief floods his face. His whole body relaxes when he sees me, like a thousand pound weight has just been plucked off of his shoulders and he can finally breath again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his accent as soft and kind as his eyes. “I know he said only one person at a time, but I couldn’t wait.”

Haven moves to the corner of the room. I glance over at her but she won’t make eye contact with me. She knows I don’t know this man. She’s biting her bottom lip like she does when she’s nervous, waiting for something to happen. The man takes her seat and slides his hand into mine. His hands are big, totally engulfing mine in his grasp, and his skin is soft.

“I was so scared, y/n,” he says softly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

I’m about to open my mouth, to say what? I’m not sure but I’m stopped when he brings his face to mine. He’s trying to kiss me and as kissable as he looks this is all just too much. I have no idea what’s going on or who he is or what he’s talking about.

“Jonah,” Haven starts.

My hand goes his chest just as his lips graze mine. I can smell the coffee on his breath that has probably been keeping him awake for the last few hours. I put a gentle pressure on his chest and his breath hitches in a gentle gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Jonah asks, that same mixture of emotions flood his face again. I immediately feel guilty and I don’t know why.

“I…I don’t.”

“Jonah,” my sister steps in. Jonah turns his head, looking at her and I see her shake her head, a seeing a silent question. He turns back to me and I can see the tears in his eyes as he blinks them away.

“You don’t remember me?” Jonah asks. There’s almost a hint of a smile on his face. As if I’m telling a bad joke and he’s waiting to hear the punchline. But I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t even answer his question. I don’t know why but I wish I could lie. I don’t even know this man and I want to please him. I want to tell him that I remember him and kiss him back…but I can’t. Nothing about him is familiar. “I’m your husband, y/n,” Jonah says, his voice shaking as each word comes out. “Please tell me you remember that.”

“I…I’m sorry,” is all I can manage to say.

Jonah let’s go of my hand and runs it down his face. He gets up and walks quickly out of the room. I see and hear his footsteps as he walks down the hall. Moments later he’s walking back with what I assume is Dr. Vincent.

“There has to be something we can do. I already lost our baby in the accident I can’t lose her too,” Jonah whispers.

Haven sits back down where Jonah was.

“Baby?” I ask.

“You were pregnant, y/n. They were able to save you but they weren’t able to save the baby. I’m so sorry.”

The pain in my stomach makes sense to me now. What doesn’t is that I don’t feel an immense amount of loss. I should. But I don’t. And it feels so wrong. The room spins again and my breathing is coming out rapidly. My chest rises and falls so quickly, I’m barely able to get a full breath in before exhaling again. My heart rate monitor beeps uncontrollably again as the Dr. Vincent comes in.

The last thing I see before my eyes close again is Jonah.

This is my first non Timothee chalamet related fic so be nice to me 😂 if you want to be added to my Jonah tag list let me know!

[rpedia]

[Ask RPedia] Writing Panic Attacks?

@twodemigodtraveleroflorien​ asked: Any advice on how to RP a character having a panic attack

Sure! As usual, ‘show don’t tell’ is gonna be big here. By that, I mean describe what is going on through connected ideas, not straightforward ones. When someone is in love they smile, and gaze, and touch. When someone is angry they sneer. When someone is scared they sweat, and triple check nothing is behind them. Don’t ever just say ‘Mary was scared’ unless it’s a stylistic choice to give a certain feel to your writing. Pick it consciously as what your story needs, or not at all.

Beyond that, panic attacks can hit in a ton of different ways. We’ll get into this below, and describe not only panic attacks, but some methods on how to help them. If you’re sensitive to this material, please don’t walk in knowingly, fuck yourself up, and have a bad day. I love you kids too much for that. Also remember this is for roleplay, I will be discussing the awkward as fuck things, like “picking which symptoms match your character” and “using panic attacks in plot.” 

Writers, amirite? (Please only continue if you’re in the mental space for it! It can get graphic and triggering. Take breaks as needed.)

To reassure my readers, yes, I have had panic attacks an awful lot. So I can actually speak from experience for once. But only my experience, so give me some slack if yours hits you differently, or if I don’t nail it. Give other writers that slack too, and don’t think one size fits all will ever work here. Give them the benefit of the doubt, so long as they make a decent effort. No one needs their panic attacks nitpicked, it’s either from personal experience or to further the plot. Do either of those things really need someone telling them right at that moment they’re not doing it right? If they’re just making a mockery of it OOCly, go ahead and rip ‘em with facts. ICly, well, Jan. It’s supposed to be problematic, that’s a plot hook for character growth. If it bugs you, communicate that OOCly you’d like to move on.

So anyways, let’s just waltz right into the thick of it. According to the diagnostic criteria listed in the DSM-5, panic attacks are experienced as a sudden sense of fear and dread plus four or more of the following mental, emotional, and physical symptoms:

Heart palpitations or accelerated heart rate

Feelings of numbness or tingling sensations

Excessive sweating

Trembling or shaking

Shortness of breath or smothering sensations

Feeling of choking

Chest pain or discomfort

Nausea or abdominal pain

Feeling dizzy, unsteady, lightheaded, or faint

Chills or hot flashes

Derealization and/or depersonalization

Fear of losing control or going crazy

Fear of dying

So immediately we realize, not everyone’s panic attacks are going to be the same thing. Some people get their heart beating a mile a minute, and feel like they’re miles away, are scared they’ll die, and be afraid they’ll lose control. Some people will have aggressive chest pains, start sweating and shaking, then feel like they’re going to pass out, choke, and vomit at the same time. Can you see why those would present differently in a roleplay, or how they’d fit different character models better, or even the outcomes of these on different personalities? That’s important to the writer right there. You have to understand your character and how they would experience fear, and sensations that are unpleasant, and which ones they’re feeling.

The only thing that is solidly in every panic attack is that sudden feeling of dread or fear. People who have not had one can relate to it, honestly. Have you ever turned off the lights in your bathroom or some dark spooky hallway and suddenly felt like something was in there? Then you have to fucking run before the thing gets you, or turn on a light to check, and the hairs rise on your neck and your eyes open up wide enough to suck in every photon of light for miles because suddenly your brain wants the power to see in the dark? Yeah. That creeping feeling of being prey is the dread and fear. Yes, people may feel these differently. Fear is not exactly one size fits all. But this is a pretty good start to understanding the drop of an ‘oh fuck’ barreling down on you from behind.

Myths abound on panic attack causes, but the truth is simple. Sometimes, they happen because something triggered it, but a lot of the time there is no trigger. Your body just decides to fuck you over because that seems like a great idea right now. You can’t even really avoid them by sleeping. That’s right, you can get panic attacks while dead asleep. That’s so thoughtful of them, they don’t want you miss out, I say in the most sarcastic voice ever.

The good thing is, no, you can’t die from a panic attack or be ‘driven insane’,and no they aren’t just you overreacting to fear or pain. They aren’t even always part of a panic disorder (other disorders bring them to the party too). The good news is, although they suck rancid eggs, they can be managed. If you treat some of the underlying causes, you can help lessen them over time. 

What disorders are linked? Oh boy, that’s a hell of a list. Anxiety disorders are a big one, agoraphobia, OCD, depression, Bipolar disorder. They all like to invite panic attacks with them. Other fun party guests are eating disorders, personality disorders, and substance-related conditions. Heck, GERD, IBS, and sleeping disorders are also friends with panic attacks. So while writing your character, look at what might be the underlying cause of it. Whatever building blocks you pick end up visible in not only panic attacks you decided to throw in to make the scene worse, but a constant background noise to their lives.

That’s one of the important things you need to remember. If you choose to give your character a condition like the above, there’s a couple rules that make this go over a lot better with the community. Let’s look at them.

Do not only use it to get attention. It may be plot relevant, but if it comes up every single time the spotlight is off you, it gets old quick. This is a shitty medical thing, not your golden ticket to being fussed over.

Do not use the disorder as their only personality. You have a character who happens to have and live with the disorder, not a walking form of the disorder who happens to have some character stuck in there.

Do not use it to only have good things happen. Realistically, you may get a panic attack at the worst time ever and fuck everything up. Don’t make it a ‘get out of jail free’ card, balance it with bad timing and bad outcomes.

Do not play Sympathy Sue with it. We don’t want to have to coax, dote, and protect your character every step of the way in a story without them ever showing signs of doing anything but keeping the attention on them and their issues. In real life, real people have personalities beyond their issues, they have friends, they tend to learn how to manage things over time. So let your character grow, and show themselves too. In writing, we do this for fun and to escape bad things. We don’t want to shoulder something during playtime, we may encounter often in real life.

Do not go into this without research. Practice writing up little stories to describe the symptoms. Read everything you can. Look up webpages, blogs, and everything where people are offering the information on their struggles freely. 

Make sure everyone in the group is comfortable playing this out. It can trigger things when you go whole hog descriptive about every symptom they have until they suddenly start having one in real life because fuck, they’re right there again. Never surprise someone with a panic attack in character unless you know it’s okay, or are willing to just skim over it.

Understand the gist of why these exist? Good. Go with the spirit of them, not the letter of them. Basically respect, even though as writers we intentionally use them for plot and growth, we should not abuse that ability by lacking respect for the real people who have them. Be tactful, be polite, be respectful as the person behind the keyboard. Anything that isn’t tactful, polite, or respectful had better be in character, and had better relate to the plot and characterization pretty damn well. You should also make it very obvious that you disagree with the character in narration. If they say something crass or obtuse, point out that they said something crass and obtuse. 

“It’s not like it’s really that bad, you’re just scared right? Get over it, you whiner,” he said, sneering. His lack of empathy for the subject really showed his lack of experience with it.

Tada, by adding in one line, you’re a better writer in general, and have accurately explored characterization while pointing out you recognize he’s a total asshole. Doing things in a way that clearly shows you give a damn and understand what you’re choosing to let the character do is the key to not pissing someone else off.

Okay so back to the attacks! These symptoms are basically just names right now. You can say what’s happening straight out, and that’s cool, but... how do you make your reader empathize with them? You’re going to want to explore each of these feelings in writing, or at least the ones you know you’re going to use. This is homework! Explain each of these in detail in a way you can connect with them. Put yourself into your character’s position, and write from the heart.

Their heart racing, what do they feel when this happens? The skipping beats that feel awkward and clunky? The way you can feel it pounding along, a mile a minute, ready to burst out of your chest? Go running, when your heart rate gets up there, you’ll really fucking quickly pick up on how that part feels. The pounding, heaviness of a heart going so fast your shirt is trembling, and your hands can’t stay steady. Describe it, describe how that heartbeat going mad feels to you and how out of place it is.

Tingling and numbness? You might have had a limb go to sleep before, use that as a jumping off point. Except in a panic attack, it’s everywhere and the pins aren’t painful. They’re just a loss of feeling everywhere. Your hands tickle with them, your skin feels like it’s tightened up weird, and can’t feel like it used to even if you’re hypersensitive to touch. Sweating so much you soak the sheets? Use that experience, the dripping, the suddenness. How it contrasts with the temperature being comfortable. Sweating from anxiousness or nerves. Damp palms. I fucking hate flop sweats like that, because I end up with a disgusting feeling scalp, wet neck, and my body is just damp all over after I’ve been through an extreme.

Everyone’s probably trembled in their lives. A shiver through your limbs. What happens when you tremble? Is it harder to write, or grab onto things? Is your grip worse? Explore how trembling effects your environment as much as it effects you. It helps to understand that the tremble is sudden, violent. You cannot stop it, it’s beyond your control, and you struggle to keep yourself from showing it a lot if you’re that type of a person. Since it’s down to personality, someone might have a shaking quavering voice, or they might be hiding that shaking hand and stiffening up to hide it all from the others.

Choking, smothering, unable to breathe... well that sounds like running to me, but I’m out of shape as hella. Crying does it too though, unable to get past a throat filled with snot. The absolute lack of breath, it’s like you’re depressurized. Remember nothing, from the feeling of choking, to the stitch in your side, to feeling sick to your stomach, is exclusive to a panic attack. You’ll probably have encountered being dizzy or light headed in your life without ever seeing a panic attack. Chills and hot flashes too. They can be way more extreme, like sitting there shivering and teeth chattering despite being in a 85°F/29°C room. Just absolutely taken by how cold you are, and nothing can warm you because you’re already sweating. It looks a lot like a symptom of shock, which is why they throw those blankets over you after a severe accident of any kind, even if you’re not hurt.

While you’re looking at those, don’t just look at the symptom. Look at the character’s reaction to the symptoms. Does stomach pain make them cry? Does it make the shortness of breath worse? Do they have sweating, lightheadedness, hot flashes, and nausea and just wave it off as a thing that’s happening because they’re scared? Mix and match. Some characters handle things better than others. Some have different reactions. Find them, and pull them out and shove them in the light for other people to see.

The final symptoms are a bit more in-depth because we can’t find aspects of them to jump off of from real life. Derealization, depersonalization, a fear of losing control or not feeling ‘sane’, or a fear of dying? These we might not feel very often or at all if we’re neurotypical. So we’re going to rely on people who have experienced them to learn about what they’re like. That’s dangerous territory, be respectful when you explore it. Not sure where you’ll find details on these without stepping on toes? Hi! I’ve had all of them, so lemme get down to brass tacks and tell you what they may be like. Once again, one person’s experiences do not equal all people’s experiences, but as an intelligent person with critical thinking you knew that and were totally going to google Reddit threads and blogs about the subject if you intended to write them, right?

So, derealization and depersonalization are very interconnected, which is probably while they’re listed as a grouped symptom in the list. They are experiencing the feeling of becoming entirely unhinged from either reality, or yourself. It’s a wild sensation to be several feet outside of your body, watching as everything happens. It’s even more wild that it can vary, a few inches away, or even just ‘somewhere else’ while your body keeps going. You can lose your entire grip on a situation, your mind fully consumed with something else, to the point you don’t really feel like it’s you talking, or moving. 

Same thing when everything stops feeling real. Like you’re in a movie, or a dream, watching shit play out you have no control over. Yet, you function through it. On autopilot, saying the things you would say, doing the things you would or should do. Even though you’re feeling a bubble or padding between you and there. In my case, I’ve definitely felt like I was underwater, and should be unable to breathe, but I was breathing fine, looking through this glassy feeling at a body that was going through a panic attack, but it wasn’t really me. It was a bunch of chemical firing, everything happening felt rehearsed, fake, and far away. Like, it had been predetermined to happen, and I had no control over it. 

It’s varied between feeling like I, personally, am not the person doing shit. I look into a mirror, and some stranger is looking back at me, who has the wrong everything. Sometimes everything isn’t real, there’s no way everything can look like this can feel like this when the world is shutting down for me. I am empty, why is the world doing this, it cannot be real. Except it is. This is such a numbing, empty experience, that it leaves you really struggling to find something to anchor yourself to. Those are not my hands. My hands aren’t that size. This room is not my room, it looks wrong, the color is off in a way I can’t describe, the comfort isn’t for me. It’s really fucking mindboggling, and all this?

Is on top of other symptoms. At the same time. My dude lemme tell you, wearing another person’s skin and watching them unable to breath because they’re choking on air, while they suddenly go freezing cold, teeth chattering, is a TRIP! 

Fear of losing control or going crazy is fun too, in the way that I can being super sarcastic on one hand because it’s not fun at all; and also very very genuine because I have an analytical mind and it’s cool to see my own brain degrade in front of me. When in the throes of this, I definitely know I’m not insane, but what if I am? What if this is the moment I snap and lose it entirely? What if this is the terrifying reality now, that I’m never going to get any of these other symptoms under control, and instead I’m going to get worse and start chewing the walls and attacking people left and right? What if this is my breaking point? 

The terror just eats away at you, because no matter how much someone says that you’re gonna be fine, and that you’re not insane, they have no idea. They’re not a professional, and they don’t have some kind of little device that lets them see what’s going on in your head. When your thoughts get jumbled and frantic like that, it can super feel like you’re losing the plot entirely. You really do start to believe there’s no hope for you and they’re going drag you off and drug you up because everything that makes you you has spiderwebbed into this wild ass new person who has had their sanity ripped out of their hands. 

I blame Hollywood for a lot of this, because you see this kind of thing happen. Someone becomes too emotional, and wa-bam, they never come back from it. They got comatose, or hysterical and have to be dragged away. They never quite make it back to their former selves, and that! Is! terrifying! And just the kind of unrealistic thing a mind having met it’s limit would throw at you because it can no longer keep track of what is actually happening.

Fear of dying is the last one, and after the things above, is it really any surprise that you might feel like you were dying in the middle of all this? Now the last time I got this, I had managed to get a head injury and a seizure so maybe it was an ickle bitty bit of a realistic fear. (Also, I’m fine, but obviously some things have happened since I last wrote for you guys, be nice to me.) With all these feelings of rushing inevitability, fear of the end of yourself is RIGHT up there waving its hands and demanding to be seen. This is, I also got this from... slightly cutting my thumb while cooking.

It doesn’t have to make sense, I knew my thumb was not going to bleed out, but I was ready to face death because oh no, something terrible has happened. My brain saw one big drop of blood, and it was done. I was officially dying. I would lose the thumb, I would get gangrene, I would die in a corner somewhere. It became something that overwhelmed all my senses and I had to lay down for a while and let it pass. All I wanted was someone to be there for me while I was inevitably dying of a boo boo. That’s how extreme it can go from literally nothing, so it’s super hard to shake off if you pick it as one of your character’s responses!

Now if you had to take a break during this at any time, that’s perfectly normal. It may be a sign that you shouldn’t RP this situation though, because that’s gonna be even more intense. Plus, if it’s tied to your character, and you’re the type to be inside your characters POV for the smoothest writing process? You might feel like it’s happening to you. Method acting can bite you in the ass if this is something you can trigger by experiencing it. On the other hand, RPing your way through it can help compartmentalize it, and putting those horrible feelings into a new situation can help you recontextualize it from an outside perspective. Making it easier later to go through a panic attack because now you have another experience to draw from. There’s a reason Therapists like it when you roleplay.

Just remember, roleplaying is for story and fun. If you find yourself far too deep, aftercare may be needed. You don’t have to always ask someone else for that, you can just give yourself something relaxing after play. Hit up your favorite goofy TV show. Eat a treat you really love and let yourself be in the moment while you savor it. Take a nice warm bath if that’s the kind of thing that relaxes you. Sure, it’s roleplay, but it can have a real emotional effect on you, same as any other experience! So, if you need to, find someone you can talk it out with. If not friends, then a professional who can give you the tools to make the most of your new experience in helping yourself. Hell, if you simply got to the end of this and feel drained or something, go give yourself a treat and cool off a bit!

Anyways thank you for reading! Hope this helps in really expressing panic attacks a little more clearly in text, but always remember to CHECK IN on your partner. Make SURE they’re comfortable with the level of detail you want to get into! If not, go for a lighter hand! Write a vignette on the side, and upload it to your Tumblr as a fanfic of your RP if you wanna prove your skills without effecting other people! Tag your shit! Be aware of those around you, and really do make sure everyone’s comfortable when you’re exploring topics like these.

If you try your best to get it right and do the research, it’s obvious to others. You’ll be fine. Happy RPing!

[chloessapphicapothecary]

Ok, first off, I’d like to thank EVERYONE who showed their support for my first attempt at just showing my sapphic ramblings to the world. You are all amazing, and incredible, and just… means the world to me. 2024 has been a trying year, but also given me a lot of happy-firsts. :)

So, regardless, thank you for spending a few seconds reading my mini-obsessions. It means literally the world to me. (Both Earth AND Krypton. 💜☀️)

Oh, and while I’m here…. Maybe I could dust off another snippet. Now, for context, the two aren’t necessarily connected, they were both written for two separate issues *MY* ‘Cat’ has had in years past, each sparked inspiration.

That being said, this one would prolly take place before the first one, and yes, you’ll notice some similar beats to the first one… suppose I know my own tropes well… so, apologies if they are a bit too heavy-handed… but I am who I am. Lolz

Also? This one…. Might have a rumbling of a part 2, which would lead to the event teased near the end.

Regardless, enjoy! 🧡🤍🩷

“You Don’t Get to Talk to Her That Way…”

Kara knew better than to listen in, especially to this particular conversation, but between her sense of morbid curiosity, and overall feeling that she should know about this conversation too, Kara tuned her super-hearing to pick up the conversation happening inside Cat’s office, between her and her mother.

“Kitty, darling, how are you?” Katherine asked in her usual, high-brow way, even if the intent of the words was to be more of a knife in the back.

“Mother, what do you want?” The younger Grant asked, hand already massaging her left temple as she held her phone to her ear with her right, she could already feel the headache coming on.

“Wow, that harsh even for you, Kitty.” Katherine all but tisked, that tone making Cat’s blood boil internally as she tried to keep her cool, but given what she assumed this conversation was about, she was already on edge.

“Mother, what do you want??” She repeated, her words more pointed and venomous as her heart rate began to accelerate, giving Kara even more reason for pause, even if she managed to keep the appearance she was deep into researching something for the board meeting later that day for Cat.

“Fine, we’ll dispense with the pleasantries…” Katherine replied before sighing in what Cat knew was mock annoyance. A way to glamourize her plight in the phone with her “ungrateful” spawn. “I called because I saw the article in the Planet about you and…. Her.”

The ending of the sentence was steeped in moderate disdain, as if she was calling to tell a drunken frat boy to send his evening booty call home so she could get some sleep. That fact alone sent Cat right to the edge of her limits…. It was going to be touch-and-go from here on out, enough so even Kara stopped to look and see what Cat’s face looked like.

“Of course you read it in the Daily Planet…” Cat groused, rolling her eyes in irritation. “Would it kill you to buy a newspaper that I own?”

“The Planet’s record is unmatched, Kitty, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Her mother admonished.

“I’m not…” Cat grit her teeth. “I just hoped eventually you’d take pride in something your daughter made..” she added with a very heavy passive-aggressive edge.

“Oh don’t be silly, Kitty…”

“My name is Cat.” She cut her mother off, her words tumbling out with almost the full venom that Cat usually reserved for indignant men of all privilege-types. “And her name is Kara.”

“I know who she is, Kit… Cat.” Katherine replied, begrudgingly changing course mid-way to say what her daughter wanted to hear. “But honestly? Just have a weekend fling to clear your head then get back to…”

“No.” Cat interjected again, her tone firm but reserved, which stood in stark-contrast to the red-faced woman clutching her phone tight enough to lose circulation, not to mention how her heart was jackhammering inside her chest.

That was when Kara gave up any other pretenses and excused herself to enter Cat’s office, waving plaintively, which gave Cat all the signal she needed to know Kara was not entering the room by cruel happenstance.

“You don’t get to talk about her that way, mother.” Cat jabbed back, not even hiding her contempt. “Call back when you can learn at least a modicum of human decency.”

Cat slammed the phone down on the cradle, and immediately cradled her head in her hands, leaving Kara a bit surprised. Their relationship had just finally hit the public scene a week ago, after an all-too-brief 6-months of time to just, be… together. Cat had dreaded this call every single day since the word dropped, from an article published by Cat herself, wanting to get out ahead of it before someone scooped it and made it into something much more nefarious than it ever was or could be. So in a way she was almost glad the call happened, up until she compared Kara to some… drunken frat boy she needed to fuck and get over by Monday.

“Hey… so… I assume that didn’t go well.” Kara finally piped up, her discomfort a bit noticeable, but she kept most of it under-wraps. Who knew the Girl of Steel had, or needed, such obscure powers, Cat silently mused to herself, as she could see enough to know her feelings, but not enough to know them all.

“How much of it did you happen to hear?” Cat replied without even thinking, her demeanor shifting nebulously as she tried to calm herself down from the mood that had her slamming the phone down hard enough to make her own body wince.

Kara pursed her lips, and momentarily weighed her options, but the Queen of All Media, interviewer of despots and douchebags, and the occasional not-deplorable, saw all she needed to see.

“So, all of it.” She groaned, before looking up from her forlorn position to make eye-contact. “I’m sorry, Kara.” She spoke succinctly and heartfeltly, her dalliances in ‘Keira’ all but evaporating once she had no reason to have the misspoken name as a way to keep herself in control of the woman she mocked as “Sunny” Keira Danvers, insufferably goody-goody Girl Scout. She had already eaten all the crow she deserved and more for that jab, and was even pleasantly surprised when Kara actually liked the moniker of “Sunny”. So, who was Cat to argue with the woman she was somehow always enamored with? Even when she was too afraid to own her own feelings?

“Ms. Grant, it’s ok… it’s just…” Kara began to assuage her paramour, as she always did.

“No, Kara, it’s not!” She insisted, her eyes filling with rage, rage that Kara knew better than to assume was aimed at her. “She does not get to talk about you that way… like you’re just… some silly fling I’ll get over by Monday.”

“Ok…” Kara replied, a bit taken aback. She wasn’t totally unaware of Cat being like this… but to have it be about her was certainly something she was still getting used to.

“I mean it, she doesn’t get to disparage someone as good as you, I won’t allow it. She had no right to assume you’re just some… floozy who I’m only interested in because she’s good in bed… not to say you aren’t, but you know what I mean, yes?” Cat added, her vamping was another new development, something that Kara was both surprised by, and totally enamored with. She knew Cat was head-to-toe a strong, confident woman… but to see these moment of insecurity, of vulnerability, it just managed to show Kara there was ways she could love her even more.

“It’s ok, Ms. Grant, I get it…” Kara assuaged her lover, walking behind the desk to get the distance of the desk from between them.

“So, how long til you think she calls back?” Kara asked, when of course, because pitch-perfect irony, the phone rang. Both women winced at the blaring tone, but Kara, being Kara, picked it up without skipping a beat.

“Cat Grant’s office, this is Kara, how may I help you?” She asked with perfect customer-service tone, even as her face was riddled with all the visual hallmarks of annoyance and disdain.

“Oh, it’s you…” Katherine replied, her own disgust much more telegraphed in her voice.

“It sure is, did you need something, Mrs. Grant?” Kara asked, sure to make sure her voice was so sweet and saccharine that Katherine could squirm on her end of the phone.

“Just to speak to my daughter. Post haste.” Katherine annoyedly added, as if irritated that she needed to even voice the request.

Kara looked at Cat to gage if she even wanted to be talked to. After a few moments of silent contemplation, Cat sighed and picked up her head to give her a free hand to take the phone.

“Alright, here she is… have a good day, Mrs. Grant..” Kara added, biting her tongue before she said something a bit too far for the snark and smarm of the present moment.

“Yes, Mother? Called to apologize for calling my GIRLFRIEND a weekend-only floozy?” Cat shot back, not losing a bit of her edge from the previous conversation.

“Kitty, honestly, do you expect me to go through this whole charade?” Katherine asked bluntly, her tone devoid of empathy.

“You’ll never know what I expected out of you, mother, and that’s your loss. Just like… you know what, no… Mother, new deal..” Cat replied, as the wheels were turning in her head.

“Against my better judgment, I will forget all about this… abhorrent waste of my time if you’ll agree to one thing.” Cat began to lay her case, like a prosecutor leading the witness to the exact spot she wanted them.

Katherine sighed, making little effort to hide it from her daughter’s ears. “And what exactly is this ‘one thing’ you expect of me?”

“Dinner. You, me, Kara, and Carter.” Cat explained. “I’m sure your grandson would love to see you, and… you may as well get to know the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with.” Cat said boldly, the words even making Kara react with visible shock, followed by a comforting warmth that could’ve made her float off the ground, if she wasn’t careful.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be in town…” Katherine began to tell her daughter of her future plans, but once again Cat was not wanting to be regaled by whatever vapid, vain reason her mother had to be in town, no-doubt a Nobel Laureate or Mega-Star author to which Catherine Jane Grant ‘couldn’t compare’ to.

“Oh, you don’t have to settle this with me, I’ll have Kara call you back to schedule it. Bye mother.” Cat roared, before once again slamming her phone down.

“So, I take it you’d like me to…” Kara began to ask as she noted it on her tablet, before looking up to see Cat’s head back in her hands.

“Cat, what’s wrong?” Kara asked, resting the tablet on Cat’s desk before closing the minuscule distance, resting a hand on Cat’s hunched-over shoulder.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine… I’m fine.” Cat tried to beg off, but somehow that reaction, which had become her staple reaction to any form of disappointment, just felt… wrong. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one who had the same overall thought.

“Cat, no… please don’t shut me out.” Kara meekly-pleaded in a moderate whisper, as she stopped down to look her in the eyes, only to see they were reddened and misted with tears. “El mayarah, remember?” Kara added, reaching a hand over to try to crook Cat’s face towards hers with a push on her magnificent jawline.

“Oh, Kara… you don’t need to get dragged into my mother’s delusions, especially when she thinks…”

“Cat, stronger TOGETHER. You don’t have to do any of this alone. Not anymore.” Kara all-but-pleaded, dropping her hand to squeeze Cat’s lovingly. “And, with all the honesty and respect I can manage, I don’t give a fuck what your mom thinks about me.”

Cat visibly guffawed. She was honestly not sure what to think. The confidence was startling, but the expletive was honestly shocking.

“Language!” Cat tried to fire back, her ability to keep a straight face faltering as Kara showed her own flustered reaction to Cat’s reaction.

“Hey, it got you to smile… so it was worth it.” Kara smiled, reaching over to wipe a tear from Cat’s face. “So, Cat… if I can use the question you so eloquently taught me back at you… what is the ‘anger behind the anger’ here? The tabloids have called me much worse than that..”

“Because those tabloids were written by my…. Mother.” Cat’s face went white as she realized it. It was something she knew all too well, and thought she had grown past, yet here it was, threatening to make her come unglued as she sat there.

Kara kept quiet, and just continued to crouch there, rubbing small circles on the top of Cat’s hands as her eyes stayed trained to the teary-eyed woman.

“I… no, it’s silly…” Cat tried again to retreat, but Kara gently squeezed her hand and kept her eyes trained on her. *Dick move, Supergirl..* Cat mused to herself, only because she knew that she had no defense to those kind eyes that made everything better.

“Fine.” Cat relented, letting out a deep sigh. “My issue is the same silly, stupid one I’ve had my whole life. It’s what has basically propelled me to get here,” Cat added, motioning to her desk, the room, and to a greater extent the entire building.

“I’m just a silly, stupid, weak girl who just wants her mommy to love her for who she is..” Cat just bluntly replied, before she sunk her head back onto her free hand, and use every ounce of her energy to hold back the next round of sobs.

“Cat, you are literally none of those words… not even close.” Kara began her reply, choking back feelings of her own. “And it’s perfectly normal to want that, believe me, I have experience on 2 planets, with 2 very different mothers.”

Cat just looked over at her, eyes red with hopelessness, and just stared. As if silently asking her to continue.

“You’re not weak for wanting a mother’s love. What child wouldn’t want to know that the people who made them, love them?” Kara added.

“You have a point.” Cat quietly replied.

“Oh, Cat, as the smartest woman I know always tells me, I always have a point..” she quipped back, smirk on her lips as she watched Cat realize it and get her own matching grin.

“I’m so sorry your mother can’t love you the way you deserve, Cat, but… I can try my best to fill in the gaps.” Kara offered plaintively.

Cat’s flusterment was palpable. “Kara, darling, you can’t replace my mother’s love for me… because you already show me love, and grace, to a level she could never wrap her head around.”

“Well, yeah, you’re the woman I love… what else am I supposed to do?” Kara asked, as if confused about how someone couldn’t love Cat the way she did.

“You see, darling, that’s what makes you different than her. You don’t see caring as a chore… sadly, my own mother can’t see past herself to see what you see, her loss.” Cat regained her composure, just enough to go back to matters at hand at work.

“Thank you, Kara… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Cat admitted, her dalliances in vulnerability something that just made Kara’s heart ache more for her beloved.

(To Be Continued…?)

El Mayarah,

Chlo. 💜☀️

[rabbitenn]

Hello!

May I request Yuki and TRIGGER with an s/o who makes a long, passionate speech about how much they love the boys in public?

TO MY DEAREST.

Because the world needs to know your love for him.

ft. Yuki, Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Tsunashi Ryunosuke x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, mild spoilers for part 5 of the story, slight mentions of alcohol.

Thank you for your request, nonnie, dear ! I’m very sorry this took so long, I hope you still like it <3

♡ YUKI

— Well, a public speech is definitely one way to fluster him.

— Really, despite his cool exterior and at times intimidating presence towards his juniors, Yuki is easily fazed by your acts of affection.

— So you expressing how much he means to you in front of the whole television station was not something he expected to happen on his daily life.

— Moreover, given the situation going on with rumors being spread around him, courtesy of Tsukumo.

— “What do you mean you feel like you cannot trust him?” You were asking one of the staff, a rather angry expression on your face at the other’s hesitation.

— Boiling anger shines white-hot in you at such a statement, your heart rate accelerating in utter fury at people believing baseless rumors.

— And you know, you know that Yuki would tell you he’s the one who has to deny any of those, but perhaps this time (or always) your love for him overpowers your reason.

— “Yuki is a very kind person, you know? If you bothered to get to know him for who he truly is and not just believe that gossip you’d know for yourself! In all the years we’ve been together, he’s always been there for me. He’s attentive to details and surprises me when I least expect it with the sweetest gestures. I know him, I know him well. He does everything for me, from cooking my favorite dishes when he knows I’ve had a long day to running me warm baths with my favorite bath salts. I love him more than anything. And I always will. So you better inform yourself before saying anything bad about him!”

— With that, you turn tail, pace brisk as you leave the interviewer speechless and defeated, not conceding any room for argument.

— And with the adrenaline pulsating through you, you haven’t realized how the whole room has gone quiet.

— Nor are you thinking right now about the fact your boyfriend totally heard everything.

— As you make your way back to the green room, he intercepts you.

— Hand catching your wrist, he tugs you along, until he closes the door behind you.

— You stare at your lover, eyes widened, fixated on his icy stare.

— “[Y/n], close your eyes.” Yuki asks, face partially obscured by long silvery locks.

— “Why?”

— “Because I’m going to kiss you right now.” Are his words before leaning in.

— You were too good to be true. And if his shyness won’t let him express it with words, then he’ll show you this way.

— Not that you are complaining, though.

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

— He’s a simp.

— Like, seriously. Gaku is so in love with you and is ready to propose and do anything for you.

— So you giving a speech in public about how much you love him? Say no more. He’s whipped.

— Probably (definitely) you weren’t completely sober.

— See, it was the new year’s party at Yaotome Productions and you had a little bit (too much) champagne.

— And so, the sparkly liquid opened the secret diary of your heart, true feelings spilling over in words of praise for your boyfriend.

— “Gaku…” You mutter, holding onto his arm, nuzzling your head on his shoulder. “Have I told you I love you today?”

— Steely eyes look at you, expression soft. Your words are a little slurred, eyes half lidded as you look up at him in wonder.

— “I know you do.” He assures, with a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “And I love you too, my darling.”

— “But I don’t tell you enough…” You pout. “Everyone should know I love you!” You conclude, walking towards a table in the center of the venue.

— “Everyone, please could you pay attention to me for a second?” You ask, waving your arms.

— “Tonight a new year ends. And with it, new memories have been stored into our hearts, no?” You smile.

— “So, before the clock strikes twelve, I would like to dedicate a few words to someone.”

— To all of this, Gaku stands there, his expression equal parts flustered and smitten with you.

— “I want to thank my boyfriend for all the moments we’ve lived together. I love him more than anything, he’s such a gentleman to me… He’s the most caring person ever, and any who have met him would agree with me that they are so, so, lucky to have come across such a chance.”

— “So, even if I will not reveal his name, and I’ll ask all of you who know here to keep it secret, I love you, my dearest. I hope you know how much.”

— A clamor of cheers and clapping engulfs the scene, as Gaku waits for you towards the back of the room.

— Ryuu shoots him an encouraging smile, while Tenn gives him a knowing smirk.

— TRIGGER’s leader is determined to take you to the most beautiful spot to see the new year’s fireworks now.

— And, of course, with no one around. For the question he has planned to ask is reserved for your ears only.

♡ KUJO TENN

— Tenn is shy about it, but hides it with a pout and averted eyes.

— He certainly did not expect to get back to Ryu’s apartment with you rambling on about how happy TRIGGER’s center makes you.

— Don’t get him wrong. Tenn finds it adorable, and were you to be in private, he’d charm and tease you.

— It’s just that you expressing your love for him in front of his friends and manager…

— It really does make his cheeks dye in rosy hues and his heart skip more than one beat.

— See, if this was in public, he’d run to silence you.

— He’s an idol and he has fans he cannot disappoint. Plus, your relationship being exposed to the public like that would only ensue rumors around the media.

— But well, if it’s just only amongst his groupmates and Anesagi-san, your boyfriend will listen to what you have to say before revealing he’s home already.

— “Tenn is just so cute and precious, guys… I love him more than anything. He loves cats and they love him… We went to a cat cafe the other day and all the small kitties flocked around him and wanted to climb on his lap…” You ramble on.

— “Tenn’s giggles were the most adorable thing ever… And the way he cared for all the cats? It was the sweetest… He’s also so caring, you know? Even if he pretends to act cold and angry sometimes, he truly is so gentle.”

— “He loves his brother so much and he’s always so good to me, he’s super affectionate when we’re in private… And he really treasures you all, guys.”

— While you proceed with your loving speech, Gaku and Ryu are aawing, commenting on how cute their youngest member is, and how they’d like to see him acting all lovey dovey with you.

— Anesagi is fawning over you and Tenn, holding back tears as she fangirls over “young love”.

— To all this scene, Gaku comments on how he’d like to see Tenn’s flustered expression if he were to hear what you guys are talking about.

— “Oh? Is that so?” The latter asks, announcing his presence. He places a sweet kiss to your cheek, shooting a vicious glare in Gaku’s direction. “Is it because you got rejected twice in the span of five minutes?”

— “You…” TRIGGER’s leader snaps.

— “Hey, guys, don’t fight, please!” You and Ryu say in unison.

— Both light haired males sigh, averting their gaze from each other, Tenn’s cheeks not unlike his image color.

— Well, the angelic idol knows he’ll be giving you plenty of affection (and teasing you too) once you’re alone later.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

— He blushes, but he’s also very happy and admires your assertiveness.

— Ryu’s a little worried about you, though.

— These are trying times for him and the rest of TRIGGER, with all the false accusations and gossip circulating around…

— For you to get involved too… your lover doesn’t want the media making up hoaxes about your private life because of him.

— And yet, despite everything, you seem hell bent on not keeping quiet in the slightest about the truth of the matter, and about how much he means to you.

— Camera flashes follow you two, paparazzi popping up in the most unlikely places, surely with nothing good in mind.

— You’re using a disguise, but well, even that way, it’s not like your partner is exactly inconspicuous.

— So, of course, you are surrounded.

— You’ve had it with them.

— So when they next ask you if you trust Ryu and whether or not you’re afraid he’ll play you, you don’t conceal the emotions burning on your face.

— “Listen here, you mindless pricks!” You grumble, taking one of the journalist’s mics.

— “Ryunosuke is just about the sweetest guy you can meet, alright? He is the kindest and most gentle, he would never betray his friends and even less so a lover, just so that you know!” You claim, determination burning in your stare.

— “Yes, go ahead and make this the next headline, who gives a damn anymore about the fake news you spread maliciously? He’s dear to many people. He loves his family more than anything. He always has a kind word for those close to him, and sweet, true smiles for his fans.”

— “And most of all, Ryu is very dear to me. All this time, all the gossip you’ve been spreading? It’s all fake constructed evidence. So pack your notebooks and go back to college. I think your degree doesn’t have much use if you can’t see something so obvious.”

— With that, you grab your boyfriend’s hand and leave the scene, a speechless crowd in your wake.

— Amber eyes look at you fondly, but a shadow of concern still lingers at the fact you got involved in all this drama.

— “[Y/n], you didn’t-“

— “I didn’t have to?” You beat him to it. “I know. I wanted to, Ryu.” Your hands cup his tan cheeks. “And I’d do it again, because I love you so much.”

— His lids flutter closed, a sigh escaping him.

— There was no helping it once you were set onto something.

— “You are too precious.” Are the words he whispers, as his strong arms wrap around you.

— “No, you!” You chuckle, with a sweet kiss to his jawline.

[vampsquerade]

Could you do one where ghost finds a male reader smoking and asks for one then they just talk for a bit?

yes omg i would love to write this for you. i’m gonna make it really angsty but i swear it’s gonna have a good ending! it’s also pretty out of character for the way he is but i feel like this just would’ve been a nice moment

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ghost x Male!Reader: A Smoke Together, Just For Tonight

Trigger Warnings: angst, comfort/hurt, smoking (tobacco), emotional distress, comforting, out of character Ghost (emotionally), slight depressed humor

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the energy in the room after hearing Hasan needed to be let go, you silently make your way out and a bit of ways away from the safehouse. The only thing you brought along with you was your knife, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. “I should probably stop doing this shit so young…” you mumble before promptly sticking the cigarette in your mouth. You cover the end with one hand, using the other to flick your light to ignite it. Taking in a brief inhale of the smoke, you close the top of your lighter and put it in your pocket. You then exhale and spit on the ground, feeling a bit more relaxed now that something’s distracting you.

Looking at the scenery surrounding the safehouse, you sigh. It was such a nice night; there was a gentle breeze, the sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly. You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the 141, but you just hoped things would slow down at least a little bit. Guard completely down, you slump your shoulders and lean against the tree you were standing next to. You take another slow drag of your cigarette, taking it out from between your lips to spit once again. Upon exhaling, you hear the snap of something to your left and swiftly take out your knife in defense while still holding your cigarette. Heart rate slightly accelerated due to the panic and stress of getting your guard back up, you’re slightly annoyed once you see it was Simon that interrupted your smoke break.

“Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a guy that’s got an extensive military background?” you ask, putting your knife back in your pocket. “Don’t reckon I see someone with that title other than myself right now. Can I have a cig and smoke out here with you?” Simon asks, mask brought up to the bridge of his nose. Quirking a brow, you just nod and take your pack of cigarettes out again. Accompanied with it was your lighter, and as you were taking the cigarette out of the box, Simon spoke up.

“Put it between my lips as well, yeah? I’ll cover it so it doesn’t go out.”

Becoming slightly flustered at this request, you did as you were told. Simon covered your lighter at the cigarette end and you successfully lit it. You watch as he takes his first drag, removing the cigarette to exhale the smoke and spitting on the ground. “Bloody hell…I quite honestly forgot how terrible these are.” he joked. Chuckling softly, you just shake your head and put your lighter away. You take another drag of your cigarette, holding it in your mouth for a bit before exhaling some O’s. “How’d you do that?” Simon asks, watching you. “It’s easy, just gotta do this motion with your mouth,” you say then proceed to make the motions with your own.

Simon looks amazed and tries it out himself, only to slightly choke on the smoke. He begins coughing, and you could’ve sworn some laughs were mixed in there as you pat his back. “Holy fuck, don’t choke yourself doing it. Guess I forgot to leave that one out.” you joke as you help him recuperate. “Sorry. I- hah…thought a master of that would’ve at least warned about it…” Simon sneers. You find yourself choking on your own cigarette, the both of you erupting in laughter between dry coughs. “I reckon I haven’t had this much fun in quite a long time. I thought I was somehow immune to it after what I went through.” Simon said breathlessly. Your smile and laughter slowly faded, lips slightly agape as you stared at him in silence. “Anything I should know about so I don’t make a mistake over it and get my fucking ass kicked?” you ask.

Simon’s face grows somber as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. “You can tell me, you know…” you say. “Just don’t end up like me by the time you’re my age. There’ll be a lot of shit you’ll feel sorry about yourself for.” he says, exhaling. You put a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. “If it makes you feel any better, you’ve become the strongest you could ever be. You defend the lives of people who are unable to protect themselves. We all lose a lot in our lives, it’s normal; but that definitely isn’t an excuse to not care for yourself because it’s what you lacked.” you say. Simon chuckles, taking another drag. “Since when did you become the 141’s therapist, eh?” he jokes bitterly as he exhales. “Since I decided I wanted to fix myself and everyone. Don’t leave yourself out of what you deserve.” you say.

He spits out some of the built up tobacco in his mouth before rubbing his eyes. “I reckon you've got a point, I’ll admit. It’s just difficult.” he says softly. “I know, but we all care about you here. We’re a family and we do not leave each other behind.” you reassure. “Y/N?” Simon asks. “Yes, Simon?” you reciprocate. “Promise you’re not lying to me. I’ll kick your teeth in, corporal.” he jokes darkly. Laughing softly, you punch his shoulder before bringing him in for a side embrace. “Aw, well I appreciate you too, lieutenant. But I promise, I’ll never abandon or leave your side.” you reassure. “Good. Thanks for at least being the semblance of a new family for me.” Simon thanks. “No problem.” you say.

The two of you then stay outside for a while longer, eventually smoking your entire cigarettes and putting them out. You spend a bit more time stargazing, enjoying each other’s company after such a moment of vulnerability. “Quite a nice night, eh? Feels fresh and clear.” you chime. “I suppose you’re right. You like to stargaze a lot?” Simon asks. “From time to time. I just like to appreciate the scenery whenever I can.” you say Simon nods, looking down at you. You look back at him, staring into his eyes. “You’re a good man, Y/N. Don’t change that.” he compliments. You smile and give him a nod and a wink, “I don’t plan on it, Simon.” you say confidently. Simon gives you a nod, bringing his mask back down over his face. The air feels much lighter now, and you could tell that that small period of gloom has effectively passed now.

You were now close to Simon “Ghost” Riley, the most intimidating person you’ve ever met.

[pandoraintheevening]

You (might of) asked so I shall deliver

Not my proudest work, but my teacher liked it so (shrugs).

This place was one of the best and worst times of my life and even though that’s an oxymoron, I stand by my opinion. When I remind myself of this time I don’t know if I should smile or frown and if I do smile guilt swarms in me in small trickling amounts. And after a while of sitting in a small but deep lake, a raging storm would come with all its fury and to my demise I have never been able to control it. Welton Academy was and still is one of the most prestigious boys boarding schools in America. Even when the popularity of these types of schools lowered it somehow won many swooning parents to still send their sons here. Its high standard on tradition and order makes my stomach knot, as it used to do way more frequently before, and its high praise of academic success makes Michael, my son, somehow turn into those swooning parents. My weighted opinion on Welton Academy makes many question why I would allow my son to come here in the first place, but not to my surprise he has never been like me. His drive and personality has always never resembled my own, but when I look at him I see myself physically. Michaels oak blonding hair and wavering blue eyes remind me way too closely of mine. And as the car begins to draw nearer to Welton I feel my heart rate begin to accelerate. 

A gentle hand falls down onto my knee and that's when I realise my leg has been bouncing. Without really thinking it settled, but my heart is still pounding through my heavy chest, begging to break free and run off somewhere to hide. Still looking at the road in the corner of my eye, I turn my head over.

I turn to see her.

This warming, but delighted smile raideating. And we stare for what feels like hours.

After what was more of a second she jokingly rolled her eyes and nudged her hand to move my gaze back on the gravel road. “Both of you stop with the bouncing or you might launch us up to the moon quicker than Neil Armstrong on Apollo 11.” Elaine scolds us in a joking tone. I hear Michael say one of his hilarious witty replies that Elaine somehow has her own to reply with. But one thing in that sentence made my stomach clench and I can’t wrap my head around how funny it was for her to say it now.

Neil.

Neil Armstrong.

Neil Perry.

I focus back on the gravel road.

***

After the long treacherous opening mass I slip away to one of the hallways and begin walking awe on what has changed and what has stayed the same. Apart from some refinishing, practically everything is the same. The yellowish glow of the warm light that I feel when exams start and the long red carpet that runs through certain sections of the school. 

Everything feels the same. 

It all feels so similar but in a peculiar way.

These weaving hallways that remind me of those very brief, but intoxicating moments that I have framed in walls of my mind. Chills that have swept me up into clouds that aren’t too high that I can’t come down, it’s just that I choose not to. As I kept walking over I finally reached the glass box that stands in its proudful way. Photos of the boys that think that there are already men. Trophies that still allow you to hear the victores roar. 

Dozens of smiling faces once my own.

In a crowded hallway that I once called home.

Wishful thinking on their minds.

Lucid dreaming that makes us blind.

Now that I look into the past,

Oh how much I wished I made it last.

Years ago I stood here in my first English class with Mr Keating and many then thought it might be foolish to do this, but I believed him. Even if it was only a mere second it felt like it was stretched. It was one of the moments that bleed into each other to allow more time for these moments. This might allow us more time to acquire more meaning from them or maybe just so we could understand a little more about them. I didn’t know it then, but Mr Keattings classes were one of the many reasons I would find that year to not end it all. A pull of some sort began tugging me closest to something and for some reason I just followed, allowing the universe to lead me to what it wanted me to find. This was something I learnt that year as well and it wasn’t what Mr Keating taught me, but what a bright, spirit full boy that I still look up to did. Neli Perry.

Mr Keating might have told us to make our lives extraordinary, but Neli was the one that taught me how to act upon it. Wishful thinking wasn’t going to make dreamscapes that plagued your mind, living would. And finding the very core passion that brought you the most fulfilment was important. It was just I didn’t know what living was when all I could think of was the face and breath of death. Calling me in any chance I had freedom in. And even when I was happy he would leave traces and prints everywhere around me. 

“Hello.” Michale’s voice or was it Neils?

“Dad, are you okay?” Michales.

I don’t look over instead I just stare at the photo in front of me. All these boys that I knew nearly nothing about, but also so much. “Do you see this photo? And that boy, close to the back with the brow hair.” I ask him almost choking with the invisible sock down my throat “There’s like four of them?” Michael replied strangely concerned. “Right corner, two boys to the left. Do you know his name?”

“Sorry, no.”

“What is your full name Michale?” I ask, finally looking over at him. His puzzled face looking at me waiting to answer, strangely scared he’ll mess up. “What’s your full name?”

“Michale Neil Anderson.”

“Neli, do you know why we had Neli as your middle name?”

“When I was young, you told me it was to do with Neil Armstrong, but that wouldn’t make any sense since I was born two years before they landed on the moon-” I cut him off because if I didn’t he might possibly start talking about carrots before he finally got to his point. “Neli Perry is the name of that boy, and he was extraordinary. He was so passionate and soulful and you very much remind me of him, Michael. That used to hurt me when you were young, but I began to learn to never be hung up on things, but one thing is all I ask from you. Not A’s for every class, but find what makes your life extraordinary and pursue it.” 

Michael nods, but his look is still puzzled, “Did you do that?” 

I tilted my head and returned his puzzled look. “What do you mean by that?”

“Did you find what makes your life extraordinary?”

A grin. I’m grinning. “Yes, I very much did.”

Me and Elaine said our goodbyes to Michael and all the fears that wrong would occur melted off like ice in fire. And to my surprise my cheeks weren’t just dry, but hurted. Was I grinning that much that they began to hurt? Michael is nothing like me, but we’re also so similar. His heart is so full of optimism which isn’t fully like mine, but one that I see everyday that makes me think ‘That is my son’ is the dreamlike wonder he brings around. 

***

After saying our goodbyes I told Elaine to head off before me, still staring at the dozens of shining faces behind walls of glass, keeping them pure, young, and persevered. Stilling in time watching the new and old as they move along the halls that they once did. Not really looking at the time I stood there, blocking everything like the drawing also did.

“Anderson!” A call behind me yells. Jumping I turned behind me to see who it was, a face so familiar with a growing smile. “Nawanda?” the name came in a question, not his first name or last, but his name.

“Yes.” He laughed with a grin, “Nawanda is I.” Charlie Dalton seemed the same with his childish grin and confident nature. “How are you Todd, didn’t know you were going to come.” He walks over patting my back with a firm hand.

“Parden?” 

“The letter, the one Knox sent out? Didn’t you get it?”

I shook my head, my gaze travelling back to the glass. Charlie speaks again,“We’re meeting in town tomorrow, the four of us, well five if you wanted to come to. What do you say Anderson?” 

I can see his reflected face on the glass. I wanted to decline and say some lame excuse, but then I saw Nelis' framed face smiling with such gratitude and I replied with,“Where?”

***

Downstreet Cafe wasn’t even on Downstreet, it was on the bend near it. Close, but not close enough, my father would say that about me and my brothers, grades, sport, anything that didn’t meet his eye he would shoot down with a, ‘not close enough’. 

Downstreet Cafe had an apparent warm glow even from the outside, just peering in, it looked warm. It was close to spring so it may just be the temperature, but I began to grow hotter as I grew closer to opening the engraved door. Do they even want me here? Is this a good idea? Maybe I should leave. Thoughts circled me into a corner, the handle of the door staring into me.

The door suddenly opened, the surprise almost making me fall. A girl with dark brown hair and green peering eyes stares at me with confusion, but surprise.“Umm…Sir it’s a push if you didn’t know.” A tilt of her head, questioning something.

How long was I standing there?

“I’m sorry, I almost lost my senses there. Thank you.”

She nods and steps aside to allow me in. Inside the cafe it was more earthy, with yellow lighting shining through the many lamps. I began wandering through the cafe, taking the whole room in. This would be lovely to write about, hell, draw, I should write it down, sketch it.

As I was about to grab my black cover binded book a yell from across the room reached me. “Todd, you made it inside!” Nawanda. Charlie.

I give a small shy wave, walking over to the booth they're all in. “Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding or something.” 

“No, no, no. Sit down, sit down, it’s fine Todd, no need to worry.” Pitts. He’s here too.

Of course he would be what am I saying all of them are here Charlie said that already. Calm, no need to keep thinking so quickly.

“Didn’t know if you knew how doors worked. Just stood and stared at it.” They all laughed at what Charlie said, and I thought it was funny too. I laughed.

“I forgot if I knew as well.” Did I just make a joke? They all laughed though, so it must have been funny. My chest fills with this type of pride that makes me want to make them all laugh once again. Is this why Charlie likes to make jokes?

“So Mr Best selling author, nice of you to allow you in your presence.” Knox…I think at least. “Charlie tells me you didn't get my letter.” I did get it, never opened it. 

“I probably did, maybe got lost in the mail.” I shrug and my eyes fall back to their favourite place. The palms of my hands. When I was homeschooled by my mother, she would set time for me to learn social skills. Keeping eye contact was one of them and it was always the one I struggled with most. 

“Well it doesn’t matter no more, you’re here aren’t you.” Charlie says patting my back once again. All of them looked older, their prominent features the same. Meeks glasses, Pitts height, ect. Just like the school, it looked the same. It felt the same, it just aged, it just grew.

Knox, knocking on the table with his hand that held a ring. “So, Mr Keating left us something, in his will. It was a box, apparently one of us knew the code to open it. He apparently told us, does anyone know about it.”

Mr Keating, dead.

He’s gone.

Never coming back.

Neil’s dead.

He’s gone.

Never coming back.

The funny part is that I think I know the code. But I was too scared to say it. So I didn’t.

***

As I eat dinner alone tonight, since Elaine is with her sisters I begin thinking of the Why.

The question of Why hasn’t plagued my mind as much as it did when we all first found out. 

In the winter of 1959, the night of Neli’s play of Mid-sumers night's dream, I and the rest of the boys rode in silence as Mr Ketting drove us back to school. The sinking feeling in my gut strengthened. Worries have always consumed me, the fear of reaching disappointment and dissatisfaction not to myself but to others was apparent since I was young. All I knew was that I couldn’t possibly see Neil’s bed empty, I couldn’t possibly go into that room. Fortunately Mr Keating called on me to stay and talk to him.

“All right boys, all of you should get some rest now except you Mr Anderson, come talk to me for a moment.” The gentle, but sad way he spoke to us made my stomach ache in its worst faze yet. The very ripe lingering of  pomegranate seeds drawed me closer to Mr Keating and for some odd reason I followed it. “Come with me Todd, I have something I wanted to give you and the other boys. I just wanted to pass it through you first.”

He led me through the teachers' dormitories and stopped at one near the middle. “Come in, Anderson and sit down.” The room was a comfortable size, books and papers laid on all possible surfaces, some with the bottom rims of coffee or tea printed on them. Candles scattered around, looked as if he had forgotten that he put them there. A vase of dried flowers sat on a round table near the room, pink small flowers, I feel I saw them before. “Butterfly weed, Mr Anderson. Pretty aren’t they?” 

I nod, “Butterfly weed, it means Let me go.”

Looking up to see his candle lit face I see the orange yellow hews moving as he sets it on the table. Mr Keating’s expression made the knot in my stomach tighter. So tight it feels like only a thread is holding it together. “One to admire the plants, Mr Anderson? One to search the meaning of every word a symbol gives is something you have the nick for.”

Mr Keating looks up as he begins shuffling on a chair. “Sit down.”

I do as he asks, still a little dazed about what he wanted. Looking at his desk that separates us, the look of organised chaos of more papers and books soothes me. The only thing that sets apart is the lamp and a photograph of a young woman. “She’s…pretty.” I break the silence, nodding over to the gold framed photo. “Yes, she’s also in England.” His expression looked like he had said this before. Looked as if it made him more confused than sad. “She sent the butterfly flowers.” I said it more like it was a statement than a question, blurting it out without meaning it too. Slightly moving his gaze away from the frame, his eyebrows knitted. “Yes, how could you tell? Tell me, Mr Anderson, how only looking at two things in my room could you piece things together?” It felt as if he was doing the same as me, observing the slight things makes you hunger for more, for meaning, for stories.

“As you said before, I do have the nick for finding meanings.” 

Mr Keating  smiles, no, grins.

“Well then Todd, I wanted to ask you about your writing. Neli says you write a lot. How is it?” He pours two cups of tea as he asks, focusing on both the question and pouring the steaming liquid. “Writing?”

“Yes, have you been writing much?” 

“Sure.” I say playing with my fingers, cracking them, pulling them, distracting myself. Mr Keating’s gaze was still strong on me, waiting.“It was your birthday a month ago, am I right.” My response was a simple nod. “Did your friends give you anything?”

I shake my head. “No, sir.”

“Why is that the case Todd?”

“I didn’t tell them sir.”

“Todd…friendship is a two way street. You won’t get anywhere if one knows more about the other. Let your friends know you.” We were both silent.

“I told Neli.”

“Yeah…talk more to Neli. He’s a good friend.”

I nod. “Was there anything else sir?”

“Ahh, yes.” He stands to pick up a book. It’s small, it could fit in a large coat pocket. The cover was black and a brown piece of rope tied it close, to keep it together. “This is for you, hopefully you will write your thoughts. I believe that even if you can’t say what you think, you could still write them down. The book will hopefully prevent you from wanting to rip the pages out.”

I look up, his last sentence slightly shocking me. 

“Take the book now. Keep it safe for me, it says the date I gave it to you, write something down for me tonight. And once you finish the book, write the end date.” I nod, taking the book with two hands. “Have a good night Mr Anderson.”

I stood up and walked to the door, “You too Mr Keating.” I stop. “Thank you.”

***

Walking to my room, the first thing I do is open up the page and begin to write.

Dear Neil Perry,

You were amazing on stage tonight. Everyone thought the same, Charlie was probably the most quiet I have ever seen him. The way spoke and moved across the stage showed the passion you poured into it. It was extraordinary. Utterly extraordinary.

The smile and you had when we clapped at the end reminded me of the time I stumbled into you practising in our dorm. All I knew when I walked in and you finished was to clap. You smiled just like that, maybe even bigger. You picked up one of the crumpled pieces of paper in my rubbish and held it out to me saying, “Your turn Todd.” I think that was one of the very few moments I have ever felt confident enough to do that. And you clapped when I finished. It felt so good. Thank you Neli Perry, you are extraordinary.

Your dear friend,

 Todd Anderson

After writing I stood and took a minute to smile. Neil Perry was extraordinary, and he made me feel like that too. Turning to face our beds, Nelis was still empty. He probably stayed with his parents. I turn to face my bed more clearly. A box was in the centre.

Standing up I cautiously inspected the box. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Who put this here? What’s inside? Should I open it? No. Yes?

I opened the box. All that was inside was piles and piles of paper. Crumpled up pieces of paper. How very odd. Picking up the paper I read it to myself. It's mine. I think at least. Looking closer I see a letter on my pillow.

Dear Todd,

I thought you should see how amazingly talented you are.

You watch me perform. I read what you write.

Deal.

Your dear friend,

Neli Perry

I went to sleep that night with a smile.

***

After washing my dishes I walk to my studdy. I found the box and sat on my chair and read. 

Neil Perry, you are extraordinary. Deal. I may not be able to watch you perform any more, but I will love to read you every word I write. 

I will open that box with everyone.

I will show them your box for me.

Neil Perry, you are extraordinary. 

I will write till my dying days.

I will live by size the day.

Neil perry I love you.

***

After climbing a hill that felt like it took forever. I found the stone that printed your name, the white letter stared into me, but I didn't let it take a hold of me. Sitting beside the stone I lay my head on it and begin to read you what I wrote.

Today is a day I wouldn’t mind to die.

Today is a day I feel alright.

Today is a day I have said all goodbyes.

Today is the day I almost died.

[crxshed-skxlls]

Perhaps… clcokwrok and eyeelss jack … idk. yeah. idk they just seem so. yeah. u don’t have to but. yeah they’re so 😕yeah.

Your sins are my command, anon 🙏

— ❝ Elysian Targets

Clockwork x Eyeless Jack

Words: 1k+

NSFW tags :: Fingering, pnv sex, predator and prey elements, dubcon, semi-public sex (they're in the woods), praise, dacryphilia, degradation, orgasm denial, teratophilia elements

Her heart is pounding.

Natalie's head is spinning as she dodges through the wooden branches and rotted shrubs in her way. The brunette couldn't sleep, and she decided it would be a good idea to rough up her good friend into a frenzy for tonight.. Yes, not the smartest idea of hers but could you blame Natalie? She was bored, and usually Jack was against any idea of such an adrenaline rush.

Until now. In the dead of night where the birds chirping halted and the moon peered down at the sleeping blanket of night. Natalie halts for a moment, bracing herself on a tree branch as she pants. Natalie was fit enough to run miles, but something told her in the silence she had some time. Though, this may be a false sense of security. Natalie was tripping over herself as her heart rings in her ears.. Before she hears a branch snap under weight. The brunette doesn't look, instead – she's on the run again. Natalie can hear footsteps behind her, hard and fast as the lady dashed. 

The clock eyed lady stumbles for a moment, blurred eyesight as she trips. The brunette feels the upcoming dread in her veins as she falls, soon sitting right back up to look behind her but – nothing. Nothing was there. Her breathing is ragged, her lungs greedily taking the cold air around her as she crawls back slightly. She's Shakey, trembling knees as her eye darts in the darkness that engulfs her. There is silence, deafening as she sighs. Natalie seems to be paranoid, her heart rate accelerated as she stumbles to get up. Her knees want to buckle under weight, but the lady feels alive. 

She feels alive – er well. Natalie did feel alive when she dusted herself off, just to feel her spine tingle. Her intuition is telling her something is off before she whips around. Jack is right behind her, and she squeals. Natalie jumps ship, turning to run through the wood’s clearing before Jack swiftly tackles her. “No, no!!” Natalie cries out as Jack struggles with her, Jack's hand soon meeting her mouth. The brunette is muffled, arms tugging on his hoodie sleeves. Her green eye is dilated with fear, looking into the cobalt mask that fills her vision. Jack is heaving, silently panting as he catches his breath. Natalie knows even with her fit and athletic stamina, she was no match compared to Jack's strength and agility. 

She is shaking in Jack's grasp, feeling him straddle her hips. Natalie whines, but they are pitifully muffled. Jack soon growls, his grip tightening on her mouth as he falters. The demon braces himself with another hand, sitting right next to her head. “What.. Makes you think you could outrun me?” Jack breathlessly asks, his baritone voice catching her attention quickly. Her arms fall down on the leaves below her, sighing as Jack's hand leaves her mouth. Her chest heaves, up and down as her singular green eye sparkles in moonlight. “I may not be able to.. Outrun you but..” The brunette quickly takes Jack by the collar of his hoodie, catching him off guard.

Before the demon quickly reacts, Natalie wrestles Jack to the ground, putting her weight into it as the demon grunts. The brunette is stunned on the ground, air leaving his lungs as Natalie pants. I can outsmart you, Natalie internally finishes her sentence as she quickly gets up again. Jack is growling behind her, and the brunette doesn't look back yet again. She is running again, her knees like jelly as she stumbles through trees. Natalie yelps soon as she trips on a rock, falling onto her chest. The breath is knocked out of her lungs, and she's coughing before she feels Jack behind her. All she can do is gasp, jolting as Jack quickly sits down on her. He straddles her back, a clawed hand placing itself again over her mouth before she could retaliate.

“Finally.. I got you now.”

His dark voice bellows, and his grip on her mouth is unfathomable. Her eye flutters close, a muffled whimper leaving her as Jack gets between her legs. Jack's breathing staggers, soon bringing the lady upwards slightly. She lifts herself slightly, on her elbows as Jack's grip tightens. Jack growls, demonic and guttural as he keeps this strong grasp. Natalie can't help but sputter, things blurring as she remains in the grasp of her best friend.

“Make one more word, one more struggle, and I will leave your needy ass here.”

His words sting so beautifully as they melt in Natalie's stomach, feeling the demon lifting her to his chest. His hand is removed, and Natalie rolls her head back to Jack's shoulder. Natalie doesn't dare make a sound before Jack's hand is on her abdomen. She stiffens, the hand moving slowly down to her pants. She can't do anything but pant, breath heavy on her tongue as Jack's hands explore. She bites her lip as Jack's free hand grips her brown locks.

“Good girl Nat, just like that..” His words are softer this time around, hushed as his hand slips into her pants. Natalie falters as Jack's clawed digit rubs between the apex of her thighs. Natalie is shivering, head looking down as Jack places wet kisses down her neck. They are cold yet comforting, feeling the twinges of pleasure down her groin as Jack pulls on her hair. Jack is smirking on her soft skin, feeling Natalie pulsate against his fingers. His other hand let's go of Natalie's hair, letting her look back down as his hand instead does to one of her breasts. The cold touch brings Natalie into a daze, her nipples hardening through her bra as the demon kisses her ear.

“Good bunny.. Let's see how long you can last tonight, hm?” Natalie wants to retort, but she soon realizes how deep in trouble she is. All night, spent with the demon in the woodlands.. This was gonna be a story for Natalie to explain. The brunette’s hands tiredly grab at Jack's hands again, biting her lip as Jack's finger swirled slow circles against her clit. “Please, Jack wait..” “What did I tell you?” Jack's voice is a warning, a hiss as he halts. Natalie is panicked once she realizes that Jack is pulling away, her hands soon keeping the demon’s hands in place. Jack's tongue laps a strip up Natalie's neck, and she shivers. 

“Such a slut. You wanna be good, right Nat?” Jack's voice is husk as Natalie nods confidently, bobbing her head before Jack shoves her. Natalie grunts, her cheek falling into leaves as Jack's hand roughly keeps her in place. Her ass is up in the air, and her cheeks flush as the brunette keeps her in such a compromised position. “Then be a good whore and do what you're told. I won't say it again,” Jack bellows yet again, his free hand teasing the hem of her panties. Natalie doesn't respond, shivering with a sense of excitement as Jack soon grips her pants. The demon hums, pulling down her jeans shifty. Natalie groans at the air that hits her before heat pools back into her, Jack's fingers sliding over her wet undergarment. 

“Seriously Nat? You're so wet.. Are you really that perverted? To like being chased?” Jack's playful words hit her, and she's in a blur as Jack's finger rubs against her clit again. She shifts, pushing onto Jack's hand with a hushed whimper. She looks up at the other, noticing his mask was off after a while. Natalie soon jolts again, feeling Jack's hand leaves her head to pull down her underwear. She's left exposed, the wind hitting her backside coldly. Jack licks his lips as Natalie sighs at the feeling, trying her best not to let a sound escape. “You're so compliant, it's a good look on you.” Natalie shoots a glare before the demon lets a long digit slowly fill her wet hole. 

Natalie gasps, feeling Jack's finger curl inside of her. The brunette pushes onto Jack's finger, looking away to cover her mouth. Jack's finger slowly pumps in and out of the other, sending shockwaves over the lady. Jack doesn't waste time to add another finger though, his ears picking up Natalie's muffled yelp. “Good girl, taking it so nicely.” Natalie is taken back from such a statement, feeling her stomach coil up. Natalie is squirming, and Jack notices this quickly.. So the motherfucker speeds up. Natalie knows Jack is toying with her so sweetly, his fingers mercilessly thrusting inside of her warm walls. Natalie can feel a tear pull into her eye, only before Jack suddenly stops. Natalie whines, keening into her hand as her high comes back down.

Jack laughs at her, and next thing you know her ears register a zipper. Natalie gasps as Jack is soon flush against her back, one of his big hands sliding onto her hand. Jack positions the tip of his penis against her hole, and Natalie shakes with need. “Awh.. Sorry, is this not what you wanted? I can always stop here–” Jack is cut off as Natalie impatiently bucks backwards, clutching the ground as she sucks in Jack's tip. The demon growls, a stifled chuckle leaving him. “Oh you impatient brat,” Jack spits, his hand gripping Natalie's as he kisses her back. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Natalie doesn't process the words before Jack snaps into her vagina, the brunette wailing at the sudden stretch. Natalie freezes at her cry, praying the other didn't stop right here before she hears Jack grunt.

“Quiet.” Jack hisses, his hand moving to her mouth again. Natalie's muffled sobs are evident, her face warm with desire. She's so pleasantly filled, and the stretch is overstimulating. Though Jack applies soft kisses to her back, humming. “Relax bunny.. You're too tight.” The brunette whispers softly, warmly as Natalie impatiently whines in his hand. Natalie bites her lip again as Jack's cock pulls out half way, only to snap back into her warm walls. The lady tries to relax, and Jack is growling in her ear. “Good girl, fuck– that's good, Natalie..” Natalie feels exposed as Jack whispers praises into her ear, only for that rubber band to snap in her stomach. Her first orgasm is sudden, almost spontaneous as Natalie shivers in Jack's grasp. 

Jack yet again smirks into her skin, his hand gripping her mouth as she tightens around his penis. “Awh, too much already?” Jack teasingly asks before snapping his hips repeatedly into the lady. Natalie gasps, and she can feel herself drool as Jack slams into her cervix. Then, out of nowhere, Jack pulls out. Natalie is scared she's made too much noise as her mouth is released, only for the brunette to spin her around. “There, much better,” Jack mumbles, spreading her legs as he sinks right back into her warm walls. Natalie can't help it as she lets out a curse, Jack's cock meeting her cervix again. It's weird how Jack's penis softly grazes her best spots, making her feel fuzzy again. Jack grunts, groaning before Natalie's hands brace themselves on his shoulders.

“Ja–ck please, fuck– please–” Natalie's words are soft spoken, broken up as Jack slams into her wth vigor. Natalie's pleas spur Jack on, and the demon feels his heart flutter from the tears spilling from Natalie. Natalie's words are left out in the open before she arches, the feeling of pleasure overriding her senses. “Jack!! Jack oh fuck wait–” Natalie yelps before Jack leans in, catching her into a kiss as his hips stutter into the other. Natalie's moans are swallowed as Jack chases his own high, light headed as his stomach tightens like a knot. Jack soon sighs, slamming one more time into Natalie as she comes with him. The two sit there, Natalie shaking in his grasp as Jack fills her crevices with him. 

Natalie is panting once Jack breaks the kiss, lightheaded and tired as her head lays down on the hard ground. She is still twitching, jolting as Jack pulls out. The brunette hums in approval, kissing her forehead. “Learn your lesson?” Natalie nods. “Good girl. Time to go home. You need to shower.” Jack smiles as he pulls up Natalie's pants, zipping up his own jeans. Natalie is left panting  as she feels herself get picked up, the demon stumbling for a moment before walking. The metallic and ashy smell that comes from Jack invites itself to Natalie, and for once.. She's really at peace. Natalie can feel herself slip off into a blissful sleep, snoring in Jack's arms as the demon hums a small tune.