#waking up was actually agony today

[honeyyglaze]

I’ve dreamt of the same person 4 nights this week

[moon7jay]

OKAY (p.sh)

Warnings : smut, rough sex, degradation, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Dedicated to •┈┈⛧ @hoondrop

Sunghoon didn't think of it much when you let him into your apartment without a single word when usually you'd be huffing and puffing because he showed up unannounced. He didn't think much of it when you slipped off your dress silently and laid on the bed, spread open, waiting for him to use you however he wanted.

He attributed it to you being really needy. Sunghoon was too lost in his own lust to notice how you cried out his name when he slipped himself home inside of your wet heat in one painful thrust. Your nails dug into his back and your hazy eyes fell on his expressions of bliss, hot pants falling from his mouth, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on your heaving chest. He wasn't even looking at your face and an acute pain started to bloom inside your chest.

"Fuck-oh god-never been inside a pussy so fucking good ,you were just made to be fucked" He grunted, pelting his hips harshly into you. His touches were rough, palms groping around your body in a desperate abandon, leaving bruises in their wake. Usually you loved it, your body welcomed the familiar sting and the pleasure that came along with it, but the bruises from your inside were looming on the surface today, making you feel like an open, gaping wound.

He buried his face inside the crook of your neck, folding your body in half, his thrusts merciless as always. "fucking slut, can't stop coming back to this tight little cunt, you should get paid for it" he panted in your ear. His words were hitting you as hard as his thrusts were, the hollowness in your chest intensifying by the second. Soft sobs started leaving your lips before you could stop them.

"Yeah ? Does it hurt?" He asked coming up to rest his forehead against yours, looking you dead in the eye for the first time since he came over. His eyes were dark in lust, hot breaths of exertion falling on your lips while his hips kept pounding you into the sheets. You nodded, your vision becoming blurry as you were unable to control the onslaught of tears that was wracking your body. "You can take it, just keep letting me use this hot little body till I'm fucking satisfied" His movements became rapid, you could tell that he was close. Your walls were breaking down with each snap of his hips, pain beginning to constrict your throat. Your breaths were becoming shorter, sobs becoming ugly, the physical pain transcending into emotional one.

You hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable and raw, especially in front of someone who didn't give two fucks about you. Maybe it was the stupid feelings you had started harbouring for the boy above you that were begging him to notice your suffering. To see you, look beyond the relief that your body had to offer and peek behind the mask which was your face. To hold your aching body till it didn't feel like something was clawing it's way out of your chest, till you could voice out your grief and give this empty feeling a name.

Sunghoon's mind was beginning to get clouded over by the feelings of ecstasy, his hips stuttering, feeling his high approaching closer. Even though his body was responding to the pleasure you were giving him, something about the way you were looking at him was filling him with unease. He had never seen you crying so much during sex and something inside him was telling him that this was something else. Those weren't the sobs of pleasure that were racking your tiny form underneath him, your wails sounded like cries of actual pain and he wasn't sure what to do. His high faded into the void the more that he focused on your quivering lips and flooded eyes, his hips coming to a halt inside of you. When you didn't stop wailing despite the lack of his assault on your lower body, sunghoon's chest constricted in panic. Did he hurt you? what the fuck was going on?

You were jolted out of your agony by the feeling of two big palms cupping your face.

"Y/n? Hey, hey, calm down" Sunghoon's panic filled voice penetrated through the viel of tears covering your eyes. It took you a while to notice how he wasn't inside of you anymore, the aching between your legs was lost somewhere between your grief stricken cries. You pushed him away and curled into yourself, wrapping your hands around your middle to find some sort of comfort. Rocking your body back and forth to calm your stuttering breaths. This was all you had. For as long as you can remember, this tiny stroke of comfort was all you had to ground yourself to reality. The fact that someone else was witnessing your breakdown was making you feel defenseless. "G-Go please" you sobbed and closed your eyes to drown out your surroundings.

Sunghoon's brain was going into overdrive. Seeing you like this was something he had not thought about even in his worst nightmares and he felt helpless. He didn't want to leave but at the same time he didn't want to push your limits either, so he gathered his clothes and dressed himself as fast as he could. There was an intense urge to hold you that was blooming in his chest, but who was he kidding? He couldn't comfort people for shit. Sunghoon didn't do emotions, he didn't do feelings and he sure as fuck didn't care about anyone, so why were you making him feel this way?

As he took one last look at your naked body curled into a fetus position, your cries tearing through his heart, sunghoon did what he did best. He left.

As you stared at the empty screen of your phone with no calls or messages from sunghoon, you could hear the distinct sound of your heart breaking. One would think you would have gotten used to that sound by now. How pathetic.

Did you not know how it was gonna end from the beginning? or when you decided to be vulnerable and scare him away ? Did you really think you meant something to him? That you meant more to him than just a warm body to fuck? How many heart breaks would it take for you to realize that you were just convenient? Convenient and replaceable and so so naive. You wouldn't call yourself naive tho, you were just desperate. Choosing to ignore reality to live in momentary illusions of happiness. You guess this is what becomes of people who come out of broken homes, searching for little specks of love where it doesn't exist, deluding yourself till the glaring reality decides to shove you back to where you came from. Somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with the fact that you couldn't make people love you. You had always lacked that ability, to make someone want you, to make someone stay.

You picked on the scab of wound on your knuckle mindlessly, chuckling to yourself as tears started streaming down your face again. You out of all people should have known better. You had so much love inside of you and no one to give it to. And what was excess love if not grief? Where do you put this agony? How do you get rid of this aching need to be enough for someone else?

He must be with some other girl right now, some girl who didn't ruin his pleasure with random breakdowns and ugly sobs. Someone who wasn't so difficult and unlovable and excruciatingly clingy. you kept scratching till the healed skin was peeling off, making way for warm blood to ooze out. A sigh fell from your quivering lips at the familiar sting, wondering if he stayed when other girls asked him to.

Sunghoon downed his 6th shot of the night and yet, he was wide awake and functioning. He'd been sitting in this godforsaken bar for days but no amount of alcohol could take you out of his head. You were like a constant itch at the back of his mind. What fucked him up the most was the fact that he missed you. Utterly and desperately. And not just your body, he missed YOU. He missed your giggles and he missed your flustered smiles. He missed the way you sassed him when he teased you. He missed watching his big palms engulf your small ones.

The past few days had been enough to bring him to the glaring realization that he needed you. He cared about you. Your wails were still ringing in his ears and your broken voice when you told him to leave was haunting him at nights. His dark circles could attest to that. His hands shook with the desperate need to call you and hear your voice but he was a coward. He left you in your worst moment and the guilt and shame was eating him from the inside. What would he even say to you? You probably hated him now.

His mind drifted off to the conversation you had with him a few weeks ago. He'd been getting ready to leave when your soft, hesitant voice had spoken the words which changed the trajectory of his life. "c-can you stay?" you'd asked and sunghoon had looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. Your tiny figure had been wrapped in your white sheets while you peered up at him nervously, your fingers fiddling with the stray thread on the duvet. "can you stop being fucking clingy?" He'd replied, regretting his words as soon as he'd seen you visibly flinch. Then truth was that he'd been afraid. He was scared then and he was scared now. Scared of how badly he'd wanted to stay.

He downed another shot and hoped it would be enough to give him the liquid courage for what he was about to do.

You didn't know what to expect when your doorbell rang in the middle of the night. You were lounging on your couch in the living room, staring blankly at the romcom playing on your television. Your first thought was to ignore it, the emotional distress of the past few days had taken so much away from you physically that you had little to no strength left in your body.

But whoever was behind that door was persistent. Ringing and ringing till you couldn't help but heave yourself up from the couch in frustration.

You yanked the door open and froze. It took a few seconds for you to process the fact that he was standing in front of you and another few seconds to stop yourself from running into his arms. You swallowed harshly and stepped aside to let him in. His eyes were fixated on you and you were looking anywhere but at him. Not quite ready to face your demons just yet. You weren't surprised to see him at your door to be honest, he couldn't stay without sex for too long.

At least you are useful for something, you thought. You were in the middle of slipping off your top's strap down your shoulder when his voice interrupted you. "What are you doing?" He asked, making you look up at him, staring at him blankly. "Getting undressed" you replied in a solemn monotone like it was the most obvious thing in the world but he shook his head, his gaze intense "why? "

"Isn't that what you're here for?"

Your genuinely confused question hit sunghoon like a slap across the face. He knew that he had been treating you like shit but why were you treating yourself like this? It made him want to puke. He shook his head again and willed his heart to calm down "I'm not here to have sex with you"

His words sounded like static to you. Oh. He was here to break things off with you, because of course he was. Did you really think he was going to come back to you for sex after what you had done when he could have any girl he wanted for the night? You really were delusional. You bit your lower lip to stop it from wobbling when you felt tears gathering at your waterline. So this was it then? You really had driven another person you loved away from you successfully.

"I-im sorry, j-just don't hate me please" you spoke through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly to avoid crying in front of him again. If he couldn't love you, you wanted to make sure he didn't leave hating you. You honestly wouldn't be able to live with yourself if he did.

Sunghoon watched your cowering form inching away from him and he was overcome with an intense urge to wrap you in his arms and keep you close. You looked so scared and small standing there, asking him to not hate you. Silly little girl, he thought. How could he ever hate you?

He rubbed a shaky hand over his face to choose his next words carefully but you interpreted his actions the wrong way. Your throat constricted and you fisted the hem of your top tightly. The feeling of desperation was beginning to overpower your rational thoughts, what were you going to do if he left? Your feet moved before you could stop yourself and your shaky fingers were tugging on his shirt softly. When his dark eyes met yours, you couldn't stop the tears from pouring down your cheeks. "G-give me one chance, I won't ruin it this time" you hiccuped through your sobs. "Y/n- " please sunghoon i-i'll be so good and s- so quiet, just u-use m-your words were cut of by a sobbed gasp escaping your lips when sunghoon pinned you against the wall behind you forcefully, his body pressed firmly against yours. You stared up at him with wide teary eyes and he looked angry, the vein on his forehead throbbing visibly. "Stop that" He spoke sternly through gritted teeth and cupped your face in his palms, resting his forehead against yours. "Stop treating yourself like a fucking object y/n, this isn't you" His lips captured yours before you could react and the softness of the kiss caught you off gaurd. You didn't remember the last time you had been kissed with so much tenderness and you couldn't help but sob into his mouth, your hands fisting his shirt desperately. Sunghoon didn't stop kissing you. More like, he couldn't stop kissing you. Hoping that he could convey with his kiss, all the words that he couldn't say. His hold on your face was soft and you couldn't help but press yourself closer to his body, seeking warmth, looking for comfort. He pulled away briefly, his forehead still pressed against yours and he stared right into your soul. His thumbs reached up to wipe your tears and you hiccuped through your sniffles. "would you believe me if I said that I'm here to stay baby?" He asked softly. The sweet nickname was something he'd only called you in throes of passion sometimes, so the fact that he was consciously speaking to you with so much affection made your heart hurt. Hope fluttered like butterflies in your stomach and you searched his face. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get lost in his affection even if he was lying, so exhausted from your emotional turmoil. Your eyes flooded with tears and you sobbed a pathetic "no" while you shook your head. Sunghoon closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against yours, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "will you give me a chance to prove it to you?" He asked, his hot breath warming up your mouth. You bit your lower lip and buried your face into his chest, unable to stop yourself from crying your heart out. This felt like a fever dream and you wanted to stay in it a little longer. You wanted to feel his arms around you, holding you closer in a way only you had ever done to yourself. He wrapped your body in his embrace and sighed in relief, he couldn't comprehend how he'd gone so long without the feeling of you in his arms. "please baby, you're like air to me and i know that i have hurt you and i won't ask you to forgive me but these past few days have been hell and i don't think I can survive something like that again" He whispered his truth and it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest.

He hated that he was always so afraid of his own feelings, hated that you were turning him into this emotional person that he was not. His words made you tighten your hold around his shoulders and you peeked up slightly to stare into his eyes. His eyes that were staring at you with so much adoration that you couldn't help the blush spreading across your cheeks.

He pecked your nose "let me inside your heart baby, I want to know what hurts you and makes you bleed, I want to swallow your pain if it's the last thing I do"

Your breathing had evened out from hearing him speak and you were suddenly coming to the realisation that he was asking you to give him a chance at loving you. Sunghoon wanted to love you. Your heart was beating rapidly across your chest at the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated and yet at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but question. Were you ready to let him in like that? would you be able to take it if he left you stranded again? You didn't know. But what you did know was that you were tired of running away.

"Okay" you whispered and his lips were immediately on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it, in a way it did. "Okay" He whispered back into your mouth and swallowed your whines, pressing you closer to himself, tasting you like he'd never given himself the liberty to.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him and so many feelings he wanted to express. But for now, okay was enough.

[jemiswumbo]

she’s out of her mind

luke castellan x daughter of hades!reader

anon prompt: Hey babes! I saw your post about wanting prompts and I was wondering you could write Luke Castellan x Daughter of Hades! Reader where it's like sunshine (Luke) x grumpy (Reader) trope?

authors note: hello i am back with a small drabble for the cute prompt above! i got drunk off of applebees dollaritas and wrote this in 15mins so do with that information what you will. hope you enjoy! :)

title is from she’s out of her mind by blink-182. lyrics are a lil fitting.

warnings: none? i think? it’s just fluff, i think. sort of.

“Wake up, sunshine.”

You groaned low and deep, releasing a guttural sound full of pure agony. Rolling over on your (extremely warm, cozy, sleep inducing) bed, you came face to face with your boyfriend, Luke Castellan, who was currently opening up the curtains in your cabin.

Being the only child of Hades at the camp, the entire cabin was sparse and empty, save for the corner you called home. There was a bed with black sheets and blanket, a side table full of the few memorabilia you had to your name, and a dresser beside that which held your extensive collection of black clothing. The walls resembled the inner workings of a cavern; slick rock prodded with small bones and beautiful jewels encapsulated the bedroom areas. Sconces held lit torches burning bright with turquoise Greek fire.

Your favourite part of the cabin, though, was the specially-crafted blackout curtains that were typically drawn tight over the windows. Not even a sliver of light could penetrate the thick, black, velvet drapes. That was, until, your idiot boyfriend took it upon himself to draw them open. The harsh blades of sunlight violated your eyes, illiciting your pained groan. You hated it when people interrupted your sleep.

“Luke,” You whined, shoving your face into your pillow, hoping to evade the blinding light. “Let me sleep, please, for the love of the gods.”

“Fuck the gods,” Luke said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice without needing to see his (cute, devilishly handsome) face. “Anyways, it’s 9am! You’ve slept in long enough and I wanna have breakfast with you and your pretty face.” Luke flopped down on the bed beside you and flipped your body back over with ease, in a foolish attempt to force you into the world of the living.

Typical for a child of Death, you kept your eyes squeezed shut and pounded the bedsheet with your fist. “I will literally, genuinely, actually murder you without hesitation if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend.” Luke said, pressed a small kiss to your nose. You swatted him away with anger.

Any other (normal, rational, smart) kid at camp would’ve soiled their pants and fled in terror from such a threat uttered by the one and only daughter of Hades. You were capable of a simple killing — you were graciously bestowed the gift of sucking out the souls of mortals with a mere flick of the wrist — and so it was only logical to fear such a ghastly claim. Luke, however, had realized early on in your Camp days that you were full of shit and would never hurt a fly. He took an opportunity to befriend you and you’d been dating for a few years now. You were (truly, madly, deeply) in love with him and yes, despite your immense hatred for morning sunlight, you would never actually hurt him.

“Come on,” he prodded again, cuddling up beside you and tapping your forehead mischievously. You mustered the courage to crack open one eye (barely) and saw him grinning down at you. “Wake up, baby. Let’s get breakfast and then spend the day at the docks. We can swim and sun bathe and have a picnic—“

“Gods, you’re ambitious today,” you grumbled, rolling back over to face the opposite direction of Luke (and, the open windows), allowing him to grab your waist and pull you up against his chest. “I hate being in the sun. You know this.”

“Yeah, but I like to try new things with you,” Luke said, peppering a few kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, squeezing his taut arm around your torso. “And I’m dying to see you in a bikini.”

“Perv,” you mumbled, but deep down you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing a crimson blush to bloom over your chest. “Give me another hour to sleep.”

“No,” Luke said, and now it was his turn to groan impatiently. “Please, now, for me? I love you and want to spend time with you.”

“I hate you and want you to leave me alone,” you replied, pulling your fluffy duvet back up over your shoulders. “Bed time.”

“Beach time,” Luke decided. He sat up slightly and ripped the blankets entirely off your form, exposing your body to the cold air of the morning.

You shrieked. “Luke, you asshole—“

Luke jumped out of the bed, smiling wide. He gathered up all the blankets up into his arms, much to your dismay, and held them away from you. You only wore shorts and a tank top to sleep last night, and the chill in the room froze you right to your bones. Luke bundled up the bedding into a ball and fired it across the room. “There, now you’re acclimated.”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

“You are a grouchy, sleepy demon who needs breakfast and vitamin D.”

“Ugh!” You exploded, finally shoving yourself out of bed in a fit of exasperation. Luke had the audacity to applaud you. “Okay, there, I’m up!”

“So proud of you, my sleeping beauty,” Luke remarked. He crossed the room to you and placed a tender kiss to your lips, making sure to nip at your pouty bottom lip.

“Sorry for being rude,” You murmured, after having kissed him back. “I love you. I just don’t love being woken up.”

“I know,” Luke said with a grin. “I actually think you’re cute when your grumpy, so I do it on purpose to bug you.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smirk from appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever. You promised breakfast and I’m starving, so let’s go.”

Luke mimicked your playful eyeroll. He took your hand, leading you out the door and towards the dining pavilion.

note 2: hi hi! if you read this and enjoyed it and maybe want to read more from me, i would super appreciate prompts and requests sent to my inbox! can’t guarantee i’ll write them all but i will for sure try my best! thanks for reading! :)

[trappolia]

── NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN

(minor spoilers for season 2!) sevika. near what feels like death, sevika has a revelation and a confession.

Sevika thinks two things when the Hexcore's static passes through her scar and seizes her bloodstream.

One: she can't believe that she's writhing on the floor in agony, beaten by Vi's little Piltie girlfriend in her ridiculous beret.

Two: she might actually die today.

It's ridiculous, she thinks, how everyone has gone to absolute shit. There's a new sort of madness glinting in Jinx's no-longer-baby-blues (the odd magenta shimmer of her eyes sends a shiver down her spine) and not to mention that little shit that has tagged along in this operation, with Jinx doing little to dissuade the runt besides some sarcastic melodramatic warning and a few finger guns. And now they're here, beaten and clawing at each other's faces wildly like fucking children (she can see Jinx in her peripheral, has never seen her fight so sloppily with her little hands; she understands now why Silco had insisted her skills laid in engineering and inventions, rather than the fists that her sister wielded so boldly) and Sevika doesn't know where the fuck Isha is nor does she know what the fuck is going on with their weapons. Her new arm is fine, albeit heavy with extra weight and throbbing with phantom pain— but something had gone wrong

She's going to die. She's going to fucking die, and because of some fucking magic trick gone wrong.

Sevika doesn't fear death. Hell, she's lasted a lot longer than what her own mother thought. Life down here in the Undercity is nothing like the wealth and opulence and light of Piltover's Topside. To some, death may have been a blessing. Some days, Sevika thinks that it's better than cleaning up after Jinx's messes and running Silco's errands.

But Silco is dead, and the one thing he loved more than their city is off the fucking rails. Sevika can't die now. Not with these fucking blue bellies gassing her home with the fucking Grey again, not when there's so much left to be done.

And maybe there's a third thing in the mix too. Caught between rage and pure, genuine terror, Sevika twitches and grunts and claws at her skin, thinking: Fuck. Fuck. She's going to die like a wimp whimpering on the cold stone, and she's never going to see you again.

Sevika is not the romantic sort. Before you, she'd found simple pleasures in the smoky rooms of Margo's brothels, or pretty doe-eyed lasses she met at the bar. But now she finally finds it in herself to admit that for fucking once, she might have wanted to take you to a candlelit dinner. Seen you giggle and shit about her poor attempts at romance— not the malicious sort of giggle, no, but fond. Endlessly fond, in the way Sevika never deserved.

The thing — magic, engineering, Hextech or whatever the fuck it's called — crackles across her veins and bones, setting fire to her blood and the viscera that sits contained under her skin. Her body gives another involuntary jerk. It's certainly not her first time having the misfortune of being caught at the wrong place at the wrong time— hell, that blue explosion all those years ago is the reason she has to rely on a metal arm now. But this is different, wrong. It sinks deep into her bones, claws at the essence of her being with its arcane

Sevika tries to scream, but she can't.

In the ringing between her ears, Sevika can only think of where she could be— anywhere but here, either dying or something far, far worse. She wants to sit by your bar after a long day's work while listening to you re-tell the odd and frankly ridiculous narratives your patrons tell you when they're neck deep in drink and tab. She wants to wake up in the middle of the night when you roll over and instinctively press yourself to her side for warmth in your sleep. And maybe, more than anything, she wants to go back in time and cradle your face when you beg her not to leave, kiss you and tell you that she'll be home in time for dinner.

(She'd dismissed you then, told you that a spoiled Piltie couldn't beat her ass hard enough to keep her down.

She was wrong. So fucking wrong.)

Sevika thinks of you now, waiting at home. Anxious; oh, so anxious, because Silco is dead and Jinx has been haywire and who is level-headed enough to at least attempt to clean everything up, but she's only one woman and the Chembarons are fucking deranged and she's just— just—

"Just come home safe, Vika."

Fuck. Fuck.

From her periphery, she registers Cait — Vi's little girlfriend, that prestigious bitch — stumbling to her feet, fumbling for her glitching (why the fuck is it glitching?) rifle. Sevika moans in pain, trying to will some strength into her muscles to get up, fucking get up! Cait can't be a better shot than Jinx. No one is. But Jinx is out of weapons, having been clawing at Vi with her bare hands and pink-blue nails for what might have been just a minute or hours, Sevika's brain is too muddled to tell. But she knows Jinx, knows that she's nearly damn useless when it comes to rationality without her sanity and her trinkets, and when she's squabbling with Vi so blindly, so violently, Sevika knows Cait will have a clear shot.

And she does.

Sevika hears a cry. Pained, almost child-like. She thinks its Jinx, at first— and for a split moment, it is. Jinx, blue-haired, glossy-eyed, a finger shot straight off its knuckle. Electricity crackles over the palm of her gloved hands, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each breath she takes.

But then the pain overtakes Sevika again, and she clutches at her rib, her leg— everything. She wants it out, but she doesn't know where it even is.

When her eyes clear again and she can breathe semi-properly, it's Isha now. That little runt with her mop of messy brown hair and that stupid helmet that's toppled to the floor. Vi is straddling her sister-- or was, before that stupid kid ran from where she was hiding in the rafters (when had she gotten down, and how did she do it so quickly?), shoved herself between the pink-haired turncoat and Jinx.

There's two holding a gun now.

Words being spoken. Isha wails, clinging onto Jinx fiercely even when Jinx tries to shove her off, equal parts frustrated and confused by the younger girl's behaviour. Sevika thinks of you, just as quick to shove yourself between Sevika and danger when the two of you had been barely strangers.

"Come back to me."

A groan rips itself from her throat, silent but pained. Sevika pulls herself to her feet, the goddamned Devil's lightning still crackling around her limbs like some fancy magic trick gone horribly wrong (She hopes it doesn't ruin her new arm. She literally just got it this week, goddammit.) Cait's back is turned to her, the Enforcer's hands gripping her rifle like a lifeline— but too stupid, too caught up in playing hero for her fucked little kingdom to notice the heavy footfalls behind her.

She stumbles to the wall, wracks her brain for somethng. She's missing it. Sevika blames it on that damn Jinx, the way she yaps like an overexcited puppy when she's explaining her plans; and the way she never actually elaborates on them, because "Sevika is too dumb, Sevika won't get it." Stupid kid. Sevika needs to get her out of here.

"Sevika. Please, don't do this," your pretty face, your teary little eyes. You're a tough little cookie, Sevika knows, like a stubborn weed growing in their nasty streets, but you're always so quick to tears when you think Sevika's staking her bets too high.

Maybe she did. But she can't lose the game. Not now.

One more bet.

Her human arm fumbles clumsily over the flat stone wall— not one of those pillars that Jinx and Vi had so recklessly ruined in their squabble. She feels along the ridges, remembers the flares and bombs that Jinx had planted all around Topside.

There's a click.

"Don't go."

Oh, she's not going. She's got another day yet.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Today is my friday bc I booked time off to go see my grammy!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You don’t dare enter the suite again until you hear snoring. You’re cautious as you move around in the low rhythm of Lloyd’s slumber. It begins to dawn on you slowly what you’ve agreed to. You’re used to controlled doses of him. You go to work, do his bidding, then clock out. There might be a few late nights but this is too much. 

One million dollars. You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. With that money you can but your way free of this man once and for all. Hell, you might go back to school so you can be an insufferable boss one day. That might actually make your mother proud. 

You shut yourself in the bathroom and try to wake yourself with a shower. It’s nice but your fatigue is even more obvious as you emerge. Your coffee sits cold and forgotten next to scraps of bacon and an empty cup. 

You go back down to the dining hall and sit to enjoy your coffee without the threat of another awkward moment. You rub your forehead as you lean your elbow on the table and sip. Not bad for hotel brand. 

You return to the room and knock before you let yourself in. You hear stirring in the bed as you do but nothing as lewd as last time. Lloyd groans and whimpers. 

“My head,” he moans. 

“It’s almost ten,” you say. “What time is this brunch at?” 

He whines again and drags a pillow over his head. You open your carry-on and pull out your travel tube of pain killers. You cross to him and grab his hand, shoving the capsules into his palm. 

“Get up,” you say, “what time?” 

He clasps onto your fist and rips the pillow off. He tugs on you as he sits up. His eyes are blood shot and his forehead creased with agony. You want to laugh in his face. Serves him right. 

“Twelve,” he pouts. 

You wrench your hand free and go to the mini fridge. You grab him a bottle of water and toss it onto his lap. He catches it with a flinch. 

“Woah, watch the gems,” he warns. 

“I gotta go get my luggage. Find something appropriate,” you look down at the grey sweatshirt and leggings meant for the flight home. “Get yourself together.” 

You turn and grab your jacket. You’re really not looking forward to this. You agreed to it, though, and you won’t be Lloyd. You’re not going to gripe about a decision you made. One million, one million, one million... 

You go out to your car and grab your bag. You haul it back up and after another cautious tap on the door, you push your way into the room. The bathroom door is open as the shower thrums and Lloyd’s groans underline the hum. You shut it and prop your bag up on the chair. 

You pick out the cashmere cream blouse with the twisted neckline and a pair of soft beige wool trousers. Presentable but not high effort. These people are not going to stress, not any more than he already has. 

You change and search your toiletry bag. You use the wall mirror to get ready as you hear the shower crank off. Lloyd’s clumsy steps slap the tile and he crashes into the door from the inside. You make no effort to check on his as you blend in your blush. 

“Urghhhhh,” he appears like a yeti from a snow drift, staggering with his head nearly beneath his shoulders. “I feel like a sorority girl after rush week.” 

“That’s gross,” you reprimand as you put the blush stick away. “I think maybe this is a good lesson. Take it easy on the mimosas at brunch, huh?” 

“Hair of the dog,” he insists as he clutches the top of the towel and stumbles to the bed. “You wanna get out my Gucci suit. You can iron the jacket--” 

“Excuse me?” You turn. 

“Please, my beloved,” he whines. 

“N. O.” You say. 

“I’m paying you--” 

“That wasn’t what we discussed.” 

“Wives iron suits,” he retorts. 

“In 1952.” You bounce back. “Lloyd. This is business. We sell this thing to your family so you can get your money, and I can get mine, and that’s that. This is a shell. Okay?” 

“Hmph,” he grunts. He sucks his teeth as he thinks and you turn back to the mirror. You see his reflection. You don’t like that twinkle in his eyes. “Well, if we really want to sell this thing, we gotta make it seem natural.” He stands up and wobbles as he braces his forehead. He takes a breath and lumbers towards you, “you gotta act like you’re into me.” 

He brings his hand down and squeezes your ass. It’s more painful than you expect. You’re reminded of that unceremonious pinch issued by another of his bloodline. 

You spin to face him and slap his hand down, “ow. Don’t do that.” 

“Like I said, you’re not going to be engaged to guy you can’t stand. Okay? So you gotta get into it,” he reaches around you with both arms and cups your ass, pulling you flush to him. You drop your mascara and smack his upper stomach. 

“Lloyd,” you growl. 

“Put a little honey in it,” he kneads your ass as you squirm. 

“Let go--” 

“You know I’m right,” he wiggles his hips and the towel slips off. 

“Oh, god!” You push on him harder. 

“Mm, you know, I never realised how tiny you are. I could just...” He bends his knees as he slides one hand down your thigh and the other up your back. He angles to scoop you up. You squeal in surprise. “Ah, easy as pie. Just like me, Pixie stick. 

“Lloyd, put me down,” you writhe in his grasp. “This isn’t okay!” 

“Should we consummate now--” 

“Ew, oh, no.” 

“Ew?” He echoes. “What’s ew about it? I’m rich, I’m attractive--” He pauses as he turns and tosses you toward the bed. You land in a heap with a yelp. “And I’m strong.” 

You don’t have a chance to recover before he’s on top of you. He catches your hands before you can swipe at his face and he pins them above your head. He straddles you, shamelessly naked, and snickers. 

“Trust me, my thrust game is on point,” he rolls his hips and you close your eyes. 

“Lloyd, off. Now.” 

“I’m tryna get off, Pixie, trust,” he leans over you until you feel his breath. “We could have lots of fun. After three years of tension, you know it’s inevitable.” 

“Tension?” You hiss, “oh, I don’t think it’s the kind you think.” 

“You’re stressed. I’m offering you relief. A little extra bang for your buck, here.” 

“No,” you grit out between your teeth, twisting your wrists in his grip and you kick your legs. You don’t like the way it makes the whole bed jostle. “Just get off of me. Please.” 

“I’m trying to get in you,” he snarls. 

Your eyes snap open as his nose comes down next to yours. He leers down at you as his irises no longer sparkle. His features are sinister as he puffs down at you like a wild beast. Your heart jumps into your throat. He’s no longer just a nuisance, he’s a danger. 

You open and close your fingers, “we’ll be late if you don’t.” 

He stares down at you. You feel him breathing, shallow and rabid, as your own heartbeat thumps in your chest. He doesn’t have to stop and there’s really nothing you can do to make him. 

“Mom’s already mad at me,” he grumbles and pushes himself up. He slowly drags himself off and turns his back to you. You watch the muscles tauten and bring yourself up on your elbows. 

“I’ll iron your suit,” you relent. “Just put some underwear one.” 

He scoffs as you carefully roll away from him. You move as if any sudden motion might antagonize him. He gets up and grabs his phone from the night stand. He huffs as he lights up the screen. 

“This licks ass,” he growls. 

You go to his suitcase and open it. You search out the label with the G on it and hold up the red blazer. “Is this the one?” 

He looks at you as he chews his cheek. He nods and quickly goes back to his phone, tapping on it with his thumb. You roll your eyes and find a pair of black slacks to match. You take it all out and unfold the ironing board from the wall. 

You nearly wince as he approaches. He passes you and goes to his bag, bending to sift through it. “You know, I usually like to hang free.” He rips something from the suitcase, “but for you, I’ll tie the hog down.” He stands and steps into the briefs one leg at a time. He snaps the band and puts his hands on his hips. “Happy?” 

“Not really,” you mutter. 

“Yeah, me neither,” he sighs. 

❄️

In the daylight, the Hansen’s mansion appears even more pristine. As you come up the long walk with the elaborate set stone, Lloyd neatens his mustache with a small mother of pearl comb. You give him a side glance but say nothing. He hasn’t stopped fidgeting since you got in the car. 

You get to the front door and prepare yourself for another encounter with the worst people you’ve met. For all your time working for the man next to you, you should be perfectly honed for the task. Still, you’re not sure you can be ready for that bunch. 

Lloyd lets himself in and you follow. As you unzip your booties, he clears his throat. “Hey, mom, we’re here.” 

He receives no answer but you can hear the din humming from another room. He takes off his jacket and hangs it. You put yours next to his. His cheek ticks with dread and he forces his chin up. 

You follow him to the dining room and as he enters, he receives no welcome. A few stray looks are aimed at you but no one acknowledges your arrival. Lloyd clears his throat and sits. You claim the seat next to him and peer around. How jolly of a holiday. 

As your boss shifts beside you, you hold back a yawn. You haven’t got enough sleep for this nonsense. Lloyd sits forward and reaches for the jug of orange juice. Another hand reaches out to catch the crystal decanter. 

“Let us get the formalities out of the way, son,” William snarls. “You owe your mother an apology.” 

Lloyd rescinds his reach and flinches, “an apology?” 

“Yes, you humiliated her last night, storming off like that.” 

Lloyd blinks, as genuinely confused as you’ve ever seen him. His throat bobs and his eyes brows arch, “Mom,” he looks at Gwenyth as she puts her posture as straight as she can. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you? And what about this one? I’d say she started all this trouble,” she accuses as she points at you with a red acrylic. 

You nearly scoff. Instead, you match her energy. “I have nothing to apologise for.” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd hisses. 

“No, why should I apologise? Tell me exactly what I did and I’ll let you know if I’m sorry.” 

“Pix, what are you doing?” Lloyd murmurs. 

“Well, you...” Gwenyth begins. “You said—You--” 

“You accused me of being out for money. I’m not. You insulted him,” you gesture carelessly to Lloyd, “repeatedly. So, I’m not entirely sure what I did that offended you so much. I’ve been pleasant but it doesn’t mean you can walk all over me.” 

“You are defiant,” she yaps shrilly. 

“I’m being honest. And to apologise wouldn’t be honest,” you shrug. “Now, if you would rather we leave, I’m more than happy to pack up. Obviously, I can’t meet your high standards.” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd whispers. 

The table is silent as you stare across it. You feel the fire burning under your skin. You’re not sure where that came from. Maybe it’s because none of this really matters. You don’t need to impress them. You just need to get that courthouse contract signed and you can be on your merry way. This is all just pretense. 

“Hm,” William pushes the jug toward Lloyd, “you hold onto that one. She’s clever.” 

“William,” Gwenyth yowls and swats her husband’s arm. 

“She has a point,” he says. 

“But--” 

“Suppose we are a bit hard on the boy,” he argues. 

“Or maybe he’s just a disappointment,” Lillian preens. “Daddy, please. He waited forty-three years to meet expectations.” 

“Better late than never,” Benson snorts. “I’d prefer never.” 

There’s a bit of laughter, though Gwenyth and Lillian continue to glare across at you. You would be intimidated if you were concerned about their opinions. But they are nothing compared to your grandmother’s eternal glower or your mother’s grim sighs. You might be better prepared for this than you thought. 

“Exactly what she said,” Lloyd swipes up the jug and stops himself, reaching for your glass instead of his. He fills it and presents it to you with a smirk. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“All this waiting and for what,” Gwenyth fans herself and sniffles. “And he chooses this prissy little--” 

“Gwen,” William warns curtly. “Please, do not spoil another meal.” 

“Me? Spoil? I never.” She whines. 

“Hm, yes, we will not mention Easter then,” William tuts. “Let us just enjoy today. After all, I’m sure she could be at home with her own family.” 

You could and you would rather be. Yet, that is one thing you can blame on Lloyd. The more you think of it, you can blame every single snipe and jab on him. After all, he snared you into this. You might have been easily bought but that doesn’t excuse his machinations. 

You look at him with no effort to conceal the revelation. He meets your eye and his brows twitch. He bares his teeth sheepishly. Your eyes narrow as you center every ounce of exhaustion, chagrin, and general distaste in his direction.  

“You okay, honey pie?” He asks softly. 

You reach for your glass and examine it, “is there prosecco in this? If not, could I request some?” You turn back to the table. You hear Lloyd gulp and feel him shift before he reaches to touch your arm. It’s your turn to indulge. 

[unlimitedlust]

The Death Of Peace Of Mind - Noah Sebastian x Reader (+18)

Author’s Note:

This story was a request by an anon, and I hope I made justice to their imagination.

Warnings: Lots and lots of smut as always, masturbation, oral (both receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie, aftercare, Noah’s chain living rent free in my mind.

Once again: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Tag request: @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning

WC: 2.8K

Final reminders: requests are open with Noah, but they may have an expiration date because I tend to have writer’s block with people I see in real life (that happened back in my teenage years with Anthony Kiedis and last year with Till Lindemann), so since I’m seeing Bad Omens this October, my stories with Noah might come to an end after this date, so if you have anything in mind, feel free to contact me, I’m all ears!!!

Please, if you enjoy it, don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment, your feedback is what keeps me writing!!!

End of Author’s Note

-0-

You missed him.

You texted each other daily, but you missed waking up to his beautiful voice singing random songs around the house, ordering take out food for anime marathon nights, fighting over ps5 games and even the bickering you had with each other on occasion.

But that’s the cost of being a world wide famous rockstar roommate.

You and Noah were friends for a few years now and even though the idea of being roommates was a temporary thing at the beginning, the dynamics between the two of you worked out so great you just settled with it, even though you already were financially stable enough to have your own place.

But honestly, that was just an excuse you kept repeating to yourself in order to deny the sparkles in your chest every time you saw him, every time you were with him or even thought about him.

You were friends and you never let those sparkles ignite inside you because you didn’t want to ruin it all and lose him.

However, being away from him for months now was driving you insane, and the fact he still had a couple of months on the road until he came back got you climbing up the walls in agony.

It took you his long absence to acknowledge that those sparks were actually a wildfire being kept under control by his presence.

And today you missed and wanted him so much you found yourself in his bedroom, rummaging through his clothes. You soon found one of his favorite hoodies to wear while home and put it on immediately, reveling in the smell of his cologne that lingered.

You studied his bed covered by a dark comforter and you couldn’t help but to wonder what is it like to have him there, unholy thoughts taking over your mind in record speed as you got all hot and bothered only by contemplating his bed and all the ways you’d crave for him to have you there.

You sprawled on his bed and a wicked idea came into your head as heat pooled between your legs.

Your hand found its way down your center while Noah’s image painted itself in your head. The first touch, despite being delicate, followed by a wave of pleasure spreading goosebumps all over your skin.

You closed your eyes and from there on, in your mind he was there with you. Those were his fingers instead of yours.

You imagined the way his thin nose would run up your neck before he kissed and nipped on it, the sinful ways his slender tattooed fingers would explore the curves on their way up your body until he wrapped them around your neck, choking you as he bottomed you out looking in your eyes.

Those thoughts alone were enough to make your fingers work harder on your nerve bud as your other hand squeezed one of your boobs from underneath his hoodie, his name leaving your lips in lascive whimpers as you got dangerously close to your orgasm in record speed, your hips shamelessly moving in sync with your hands for an extra shot of pleasure.

You were so concentrated and so close to your climax you didn’t hear the front door opening downstairs, nor the steps coming up the stairs and then halting by the bedroom door at the sight of you.

Noah, who’d came home earlier during a few days break to surprise you, was hypnotized not only by watching you fuck yourself off, but also by the way his name slipped out of your lips in filthy moans, and his pants seemed to get incredibly tight in matter of seconds.

He couldn’t help but to palm himself over his dark jeans, while he leant his other arm on the door jamb to get more comfortable to watch that show in front of him, his eyes switching from your lips chanting his name, to your hand on your breasts underneath his hoodie and to the hand inside your shorts, dying take them off and bury himself deep in you, to get coated in your slick, to feel you clenching around him.

He wanted to join you. He wanted you.

So when he realized you were a few strokes away from your orgasm, he cleared his throat to make his presence known, making you jump as you covered yourself, mortified that you’d been caught by him, your whole face burning in shame as you dropped your gaze, unable to take the smallest look at his reaction.

“I’m so sorry” Your apology came out as a whisper.

“I’m not” He licked his lips causing you to throb.

Noah closed the door behind himself and stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed as he raked his eyes over your figure. He’d never looked at you like that, at least you’d never noticed, but at that very moment you were sure he also wanted you to be more than just his friend.

Still you decided to play dumb, you never thought you’d reach that point with him and now that he’d already caught you hands on, you wanted to see what he would do next.

“I’m so sorry, Noah, I shouldn’t have come to your room like that I…” He cut you off.

“You’re really sorry?”

“Yes”

“Then show me”

His words went straight to your core and your heart was beating so fast you thought you’d collapse in front of him.

“How?”

“Come here”

He motioned with his hand as you crawled on the bed towards him, his tall frame towering over you as you sat on your knees before him.

He cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your lips, tugging on your lower lip, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you lick the pad of his thumb, twirling your tongue around it as he pushed his finger inside your mouth.

“I always knew you’d look good in my bed”

His confession made your blood run faster through your veins as he brought your head closer to his body, making you bend forwards as his fingers slid to the back of your head, entangling in your hair, your mouth now only inches away from the very evident bulge inside his pants.

Your hands went straight to his waistband, hooking your fingers on it as your eyes asked silently for his permission, which came with a reassuring nod in less than a second.

You pulled his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his very hard manhood right in front of your face, and knowing that he felt the same way towards you got you eager to show him how much you wanted him, how much you fantasized about him, how much you craved for him.

You flattened your tongue on the base of his underside, running it slowly all the way to his tip, twirling your tongue around it just like you’d done with his finger, making him let out a gasp as you kept on teasing his tip.

One of your hands moved up his thigh towards his shaft, holding onto its base as your lips wrapped around his tip and you started to bob your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks every time on their way back as your hand stroked the parts your mouth couldn’t fit in just yet.

But you’d make him fit.

Noah gritted his teeth when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again as you fought your gag reflex, so hot by his reactions and by him getting close to his climax, twitching against your tongue, you just didn’t care.

When you were about to pull out a bit for some air, Noah kept you in place and thrust his hip forwards, going so deep your nose touched his pubic zone as he fucked your face. Despite being overwhelmed by the rhythm and the depth he was reaching, you couldn’t help but to squeeze your thighs together desperate for some friction as you almost came by how erotic having him fucking your face was.

“I’m… Fuck…” Noah tried to pull out as he was clearly at his limit, but this time you were the one to keep him in.

“In my mouth please” You whimpered against his cock.

Your plea along with your hollowed cheeks was enough for him to buck his hips and spill in your tongue and down your throat in hot spurts, the moan coming from his lips in such a sinful tone got you aching between your legs.

You swallowed every drop of his spent and then wiped away the saliva on the corner of your lips as he watched you mesmerized with glazed eyes.

“Take off your clothes” He commanded, still a bit breathless, while he finished stripping off of his own, the sight of his tattoo covered body in front of you made your mouth go dry as he kneeled on the bed before you, leading you to lay down as he appreciated the view.

Noah spread your legs open and licked his lips at the sight of your glistening slick running down your folds and wetting his bed.

“You always get this wet thinking about me when I’m gone baby?”

Your cheeks burned and all you could do was nod as he now hovered over you, lips so close to yours you could already feel them. Even after having him deep in your throat and swallowing his load you felt shy, and he knew that, he knew you so well you couldn’t hide any emotions from him.

“Would it help if I told you I’ve been dreaming about you like this for a very good while?”

He peppered kisses from your jaw to your neck, sending shivers through your skin as you closed your eyes and revelled in the feel of his soft lips against such a sensitive area.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve got hard just with the thought of you” He nipped on your chin and your eyes met again “Why do you think I came home earlier? I just couldn’t stay another second away from my girl”

His lips claimed yours in a breathtaking kiss, his tongue danced against yours erotically, eagerly, as if he was trying to make up for the time lost, as if he wanted to show you through that kiss how much he wanted and desired you.

“Fuck, Noah…” Your mind was foggy, you couldn’t process if his revelations were real or if you were having another wet dream with him.

“I will, but not yet”

He nibbled on your lower lip and traveled down your body, his tongue teasing and his teeth grazing and swirling over your nipples languidly on his way down before he settled himself between your legs, eyes trained on your dripping pussy.

“I need to finish what you started first”

Noah wasted no time on burying his face in you, his tongue expertly eating you out and collecting all of your arousal before he focused on your swollen clit, swirling hard circles on it, making you claw the sheets and moan out his name as he’d found your most sensitive spot in matter of seconds.

Never letting up on the work with his tongue and lips, he slid a finger inside you, immediately going for that magic spongy spot and how quick he found it made you gasp with the added wave of pleasure, the knot on your lower stomach ready to snap at any moment at that pace.

Once he realized he got you where he wanted, Noah added a second finger inside you and placed his free hand between your hip bones and below your navel, pressing down on it as he intensified both the work with his tongue and fingers, making you arch your back upwards and cry out in pleasure with a new found kind of pleasure bubbling up inside.

It all felt too much, too strong, too intense, the way his mouth and his fingers worked on you, along with the pressure on your lower belly made you snap in a way you never did before, your body trembling hard as electric shocks ran through your veins as you, completely overwhelmed by pleasure, felt yourself, for the first time in your life, squirt from such an intense experience.

The sight of him between your legs, all disheveled, face wet with your fluids and blissed out expression on his face almost made you cum again.

“How did you just do that?” You asked flabbergasted and he hovered over you again and kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’d never had it before?” He asked amused and proud of himself.

“No”

“Better get used to it then”

You shivered at his promise and kissed him again as you wrapped your arms around him, one of your hands entangling your fingers in his dark locks as the other ran down his back, feeling his muscles flexing as he settled himself between your legs, feeling him hard again as he rubbed against you, coating himself in your arousal, earning small cries out of you due to how sensitive you still were.

His hands traveled over your body, from your legs around his hips, through your breasts to the back of your head as he devoured you in a breathtaking kiss.

The way he ground against you, skipping your opening every time on purpose just to tease you, got you clawing on his back in impatience as you moved your hips trying to meet him.

“Noah please” You breathed out, desperate to feel him inside you.

“On one condition” He lined his tip against your entrance “Eyes on me. Understand?”

“Yes, please pl…” Your pleading was interrupted by a loud gasp from your lungs as he finally pushed in, a low grunt coming from his lips as he sank himself inside you, your thigh walls making him grit his teeth as bottomed you out slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Fuck”

He mumbled as he started to thrust his hips, hard and steady, his pelvis rubbing against your clit and pushing himself all the way in every time making you roll your eyes back with each slam.

“Eyes. On. Me” He commanded as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him as he intensified his movements and sped up his pace, turning you into a moaning mess under him as he claimed you with every thrust.

To watch him there, on top of you, the chain around his neck dangling over your face as he fucked you raw, plus the feeling of his cock rubbing all the right places inside you got you climbing to the top of the mountain of ecstasy for your next free fall.

Even your best dreams didn’t come close to how amazing he felt in reality, and that realization got you seeing stars as each pound.

Feeling the way your walls clenched around him, Noah stood up straight sitting on his knees and pulled you closer, putting your calves on his chest and shoulders as he held you against him with your thighs on his abs as he kept slamming himself in you, the new position and the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure as he now set a frantic pace.

You tried helplessly to hold onto the headboard but it was no use when shockwaves spread over your veins again and your body started to quiver against him as the tight knot on your stomach snapped violently, sending you over the edge as you moaned out his name in pure bliss, the feel of your climax against himself making him cum with you, the way he twitched inside you emptying himself out in long hot spurts taking your high to another level at how erotic and sensual it all felt.

Seeing Noah before you, cheeks red, hair strands damp in sweat as he pulled out of you and watched his cum running out of you with a grin on his face almost had you ready for another round as you, exhausted, admired him with raw passion in your eyes after everything you’d just done.

He bent down to kiss you tenderly before he got out of the bed to his bathroom, coming back for you moments later with a towel in his hands, cleaning you as he peppered small kisses randomly over you, cherishing every bit of you while he finally got you clean.

He snuggled up in the bed by your side and pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead as he held you tightly against his chest.

“You have know idea how long I’ve been dreaming about you like this here with me” He confessed lovingly, running his fingers up and down your arms.

“Bet you weren’t expecting such a welcome party when you decided to come home earlier” You joked, loving the way his laughter rumbled from his chest against your head.

“If I knew it I’d come home sooner” He breathed out in tiredness “I have something I need to ask you”

“What?” You questioned back, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Come with me for the rest of the tour?”

[void-ink-studios]

Rinse and Spit - A Mouthwashing AU

I fully blame @hrhowling for infecting me with these brain worms, and @an-artist-complex for encouraging them.

So....

Here we go.

There is an intention to make this the first part of a series, but in case that doesn't happen, I at least wanted to make this first part stand alone.

Enjoy~

Word Cout: 2,100

Content Warning: Jimmy is his own content warning.

Curly had decided he hated the sun set.  At least the sunset that seemed to be the only thing displayed in the Med Bay window screen.  He hated every aspect of it.

He hated the way the reds and oranges were too bright, painfully so, constantly bathing his body in its burning light.  He hated the way it flickered and tore, as if a company like Pony Express couldn’t have afforded to spring for a screen that actually worked.

Or, in light of recent news, maybe they really couldn’t after all.

He hated how it buzzed and crackled, never offering him a single moment of silence as he sat here.

He hated it so very much.

Yet he poured every ounce of energy he had into looking at it.  Studied every pixel, every strange artifact of light.

Because what was the alternative?

The alternative was acknowledging the agony he was in, every moment, every breath, every slight shift in his body.  The alternative was to stare into the metal ceilings of the Tulpar and worry about each and every seam.  The alternative was to wiggle his limbs, and see if today was the day he had the strength and pain tolerance to sit up.

He deserved this.  He knew he deserved it.  It had become part of his regular cycle of thoughts, right alongside wishing for death, or praying that this is just some horrific dream he’d wake up from any day now.

But the longer he stared at that god damn sunset, the more he had to come to grips with reality.  And every second of that reality was earned and deserved.

He often thought back to where he went wrong. And there was a lot of time to think.

He thought about telling... Him it would all be okay. How he listened to Him talk about how there was no survivors despite the efforts of the brave Captain Curly. Curly had been so confused about what He meant at the time. He could've seen the warning it was. The threat it was. Why didn't he go to the cockpit with Him?

He thought about Her, desperately hiding the gun so that even if she couldn't reach it, He wouldn't either. When she told him she was pregnant, told him a second time what happened. Curly had been so worried about Her hurting herself that he didn't even stop to think about how he was hurting her.

He thought about that late night conversation with Her. About the dead pixel on the screen in the Lounge. He had told her how he looked at the bigger picture. How true that was. Standing too far back to acknowledge the details, the important details. Why were there no locks on the sleeping quarter's door, but they needed a code just to get some fucking sweetener?

Anya...

Maybe that's why he stared so heavily at the sunset to his left. Maybe he was looking for a dead pixel of his own. Just something that could connect him to Anya. Something that could tell her that he Understood.

He stared at the sunset because what was the alternative?

The alternative was to look at the other side of the room.

Curly didn't get many visitors. He didn't blame them. Swansea wasn't paid nearly enough to look at his traitorous captain, and Daisuke was just a kid, one who didn't need an anatomy lesson.

No, Curly didn't get visitors. Only one of two people would ever be on that side of the room. And he couldn't dare look either of them in the eye.

He decided to try and sit up today. He hadn't tried in... Jesus, how long has it been? How long has he been sitting like this?

Regardless, he had tried a few times before. He was sick of sitting in his own filth. Festering in his own blood and pus. His body protested his every movement as he tried to prop himself up on the stumps where his hands once were.

I hope this hurts.

It did...

I hope this hurts.

It so very did. He couldn't do it.

He heard the heavy doors slide open, metal grinding against metal. He didn't look. He couldn't.

Please no...

"Feeling lively today, aren't we?"

Curly still couldn't look at Him. He knew what was coming.

"Hey. If you're awake enough to squirm, you're awake enough to look at me."

He still didn't move.

"I said Look at me."

Curly felt hands on his head, forcefully turned to face Him.

A face of a friend. Or, what was once a friend. Or, maybe not even that. Whatever he was then, it didn't change what he was now. A truth Curly tried to ignore, one that he was forced to stare at every day.

Jimmy was a monster.

"...You still think you're too good for us, don't you?"

Curly stared at Jimmy. Before, Jimmy would say things he thought unnerving, but ultimately harmless. He had made dark jokes before, things Curly would laugh at uncomfortably, and they'd move on. He'd say things that were needlessly defensive or aggressive, things Curly would try to talk him down from, with mixed results, and they'd move on.

Curly couldn't do either of those things now. Even if he could speak, he couldn't speak over the look in Jimmy's eyes. Was that emptiness always there?

Jimmy grabbed him by the collar of his hospital gown, pulling a wheezing gasp from his mangled throat.

"You think you're too good for us. For this job. Even when we're keeping you alive and cleaning up your blood and shit, you still think you're too good for us."

Jimmy made a sound, one that might've been a laugh or a scoff.

"Well. So much for your greener pastures."

Jimmy dropped him back onto the bed with a rough thud, sending shocks of pain up and down his back and head.

Curly watched as Jimmy casually, oh so casually, walked towards the desk scattered with pills. The former captain couldn't look at his despised sunset anymore. Not when he knew what was coming.

"At least you have these to make you feel better. Open up."

I hope this hurts.

It does.

I hope this hurts.

Jimmy is far from gentle in opening his mouth, shoving fingers against his tongue and down his throat. Curly chokes, he does every time. He had thought he at least would stop struggling from reflex, but his body fails him again.

He flailed his arms against Jimmy's shoulders and face as his mouth is wrenched further open and the pill is dropped in.

"Stop fucking moving."

Curly wheezed as Jimmy lifted his head up by his jaw and slammed him back down. Small mercies it's only against a pillow.

Jimmy used his fingers to shove the pill down his throat, either not knowing or not caring that he can't breathe.

It's over before Curly knows it, trying his best to gather his breath back as Jimmy's fingers retract. The two pilots look at each other, a pair of empty eyes meeting a lone trembling one.

"I'm fixing things. Stop looking at me like that."

Curly flinched, but it doesn't make the incoming punch any softer. Or the next two or three.

"You're not better than me, Curly. I'm the fucking captain now. And that means-"

"Jimmy?"

Curly's breath paused, his eye flicking back to the door. Anya stood there, compressed in her body language.

"What?"

"U-Uhm, Swansea wanted to see you? Something about a problem in the Lounge?"

"Unbelievable. Can't you guys do anything without me?"

"If it's not a good time-"

"No, no, I'll go take a look. Do my job. Someone has to around here, right?"

Curly watched carefully as Anya steeled her expression. She moved out of the doorway, no longer meeting Jimmy's gaze.

"Right... I'll take over from here."

"About time."

And with that, he's gone. Curly was aware how loud his breathing is. For once, even the buzzing of the window screen seemed quiet, drowned out in comparison to his labored breaths.

Anya moved to sit next to him. Just as she always does. She's always quiet, occasionally filling him in on the goings on of the ship. Told him about their precious Cargo.

Fucking Mouthwash.

What a joke.

Today, she's silent. Mostly just staring at the pain medications on the table across from her.

He wished he could say something to her. He wished he had his own dead pixel to point out to here. One hidden right under her nose, right here in Med Bay. Then she'd smile, maybe laugh a little bit about it, like she would've before-

Take responsibility

"How are you today, cap- Curly?"

Curly looked at her. Anya. Sweet Anya...

The best he could giver her was a shrug, even as it pulled painfully on his neck and shoulders.

"Quiet day today... We ran out of Chicken Noodle Soup. Looks like it'll be clear soup for now."

Take responsibility

Anya looked at him. Her eyes were empty to, but not like Jimmy's. Hers were drained.

"...Are you okay, Curly? I um... I heard Jimmy."

He didn't know what to think about that. She's asking him if he's okay? He doesn't drop his gaze, as much as he wants to. She deserves better.

And isn't that just the thing?

Anya deserves better. She always had. She should be in medical school, not drifting in a floating cage in who knows what section of the void of space. She should have had a better captain. A better crew. Someone who could-

Take responsibility

"Now you know how it feels."

Her voice cuts through him, her words akin to dumping ice water onto his chest. Her face said she regrets saying it the second it left her mouth.

But it took all the air out from Curly's lungs.

"I-I'm sorry, that was cruel..."

No, Anya, I deserved that.

"You know something silly?"

Curly tilted his head at her. She had his attention. Undivided. Even when it didn't mean much anymore.

"...I can't bring myself to hate you. Even though you got us into this mess. Even though you didn't do anything. I can't hate you."

You should. I should've said something. Done something.

"A part of me wants to. Would make things easier. Wouldn't fix anything, but it'd make things easier. I don't know how much I can keep going, Captain."

Curly's breath hitched, his eye flicking between her and the pill bottle.

He groaned, gurgled, tried to force his useless throat to make words. He knows she'd probably want to hear from him the least but... well, she should hear from someone.

"Don't try to strain yourself, Captain. Just... try to go to sleep. Forget I said anything. I'm sorry."

No, you shouldn't be sorry, this isn't your fault, I-

The door slid open one more time, and the both of them flinched. Neither of them looked at the door. They looked at each other instead. Dreading the same phantom opening his mouth and making some remark-

"We need to talk."

Swansea...

Curly looked at the round man, a grim expression on his face.

"Swansea, I just got back here, I can't leave him alone like that. He just had his pill, he could vomit, and I need to be there to adjust him if he does."

"It won't be long. But we need to talk."

"About...?"

"Something that needs to be done. Privately."

Swansea cast a dark look at Curly, a withering one. The mechanic and captain rarely saw eye to eye, especially during those last few days before the crash. He had never visited him in the Med Bay. Not that he blamed him.

"Is it a team meeting again? Is Daisuke and-"

"Daisuke has Jim distracted for a bit. This isn't a team meeting. This is a you and me meeting. Meet me in Utility, if you want."

Anya looked between him and Curly. "I really should keep an eye on him."

"You can do whatever you want. But I have a plan. You can either be in or out of it. Just figured you might want in."

Anya wrung her hands together, looking at the sunset.

"...You'll be alright, captain?"

Curly nods. He can at least give her that much. She doesn't have to care for him, not right now. She looks hesitant. He tries to nod a little harder, but the wheeze that escapes him betrayed his efforts.

"Whenever you're ready, Anya."

"...I am."

The two turn to leave. Curly groans, trying to get his voice to wrap around the words he wants. Words he should've said a long time ago. Words he doesn't think he'll ever be able to say.

Take responsibility

I'm sorry.

[biblicallyinaccuratespoons]

Have a little Legend age regression fic as a gift because you're a good person :]

It surprised nobody that Legend woke up feeling little. His nightmares had been worse than usual the night before, and his screams of agony hadn't only been from emotional pain. So, in a way, many breathed a sigh of relief that the protective fog of childhood had swept over their brother's mind.

Sky awoke to the feeling of spindly arms strong with lithe muscle circling around his arm, and the sound of muffled sobbing by his shoulder. Instantly, he knew who it was. Legend, his little brother, the snazzy veteran with a soft bunny's heart, now a child's mind in a weathered adult body.

"Hi there, little bunny. Do you wanna cuddle?" Sky whispered softly, his voice slightly gravelly due to it being early morning.

Legend raised his head, revealing bloodshot eyes filled with tears and pain. The boy barely spared a second to nod before he flung his arms around Sky's waist and burrowed his face into the soft, squishy fat of the older man's chest. He let out a small, happy noise when Sky sleepily held him close, weaving fingers through his strawberry blonde locks. Though, it didn't calm the gentle shivers that wracked through Legend's body, nor the tears that seeped into the other man's tunic.

"Everything okay?" Sky whispered, shifting a little to cover them both with his sailcloth.

"Mmmh... 'urts." Legend groaned, voice muffled by the chest he's resting on, but pained.

"Oh, poor thing..." Sky ducked his head forward, planting a gentle kiss on his brother's hairline. If anything, it made the boy cling to him harder, weeping openly now.

"It's okay, sweetie... you can cry, you're safe. It's okay..."

"I- I dun'- I don'wanna hurt... can- can you make th'urt go 'way?" Legend sobbed, voice shaking and hitching. His shoulders shuddered with every breath, eyes squinting open as he looked up at Sky.

Another presence approached slowly. With a signature smell of hay and goats with an undertone of dark magic, Twilight carefully sat down beside the pair.

"Hey hun, could ya drink this for me? It'll make ya feel better, promise!" Twilight said softly, offering a small potion vial housing a light pink elixr. Legend's go-to pain killer for when his joints were acting up.

Legend lifted his face off Sky's chest and eyed the liquid suspiciously. His nose scrunched with disgust. "Taste bad..."

"Mhm, I know, honey, I know. But if you drink it, you won' be in pain no more." Twilight's soft tone sank with pity. Then he leaned down, whispering like he was telling a secret. "If ya drink it, I'll ask Wild to make some apple crumble. Deal?"

Legend lay there for a few more seconds, and both Sky and Twilight waited patiently. Things took a little longer to process in his little mindset, but nobody minded. They just waited in silence as the cogs turned in his head, and he eventually pushed himself up, snatched the vial out of Twilight's hands, and downed it in one gulp. He gagged a little before he flopped down, back onto the mattress Sky had become.

They half expected Legend to say something else, but he'd already passed out again.

"Guess we're not moving anywhere today, huh?" Sky whispered with no amnosity behind his words, merely running a hand up and down Legend's spine in a way he hoped was soothing. Judging by his content sigh, it was effective.

"I'll go let the old man and the captain know. Get some rest, Sky." Twilight whispered back, ruffling Legend's hair affectionately and patting Sky on the shoulder.

So he did, slipping quickly into a peaceful slumber. For all he liked his personal space, Legend was actually quite a good hugger.

...

Poke.

"Sky." Poke.

"Sky! Wake up!" Pokepokepokepoke-

"Mmgh?" He groaned, half opening an eye to find Legend staring at him, face almost uncomfortably close. His face was poked again. "Oh, hi! D'ya need anything?"

"Can-" Legend paused, biting his lip and looking away. He shuffled backwards slightly.

"Hm? What's up, buddy?" Sky propped himself up with his elbows, tilting his head slightly.

"Can-youtellmeastoryplease-" He spoke quickly, looking away afterwards.

Sky's heart melted, and he barely resisted the urge to scoop the veteran up like a remlit and plop him on his lap. Instead, he just gave the boy a soft smile. "Of course! Have I ever told you about the time-"

And then he delved into a story- age appropriate, of course- and though it was fairly tame, Sky's deep storytelling voice carried across camp and before long, most of the chain had gathered around.

Legend stuck close by Sky, who'd taken a break from dramatic storytelling to eat an omelette, as all of the others took it in turns to tell tales of their lives. Wind told epic adventures of endless oceans and ancient sages (nobody questioned when it brought Time to tears). Wild shared frankly insane moments from his adventure, from tumbling down snowy mountains after his shield broke to diving into Death Mountain to tame a giant possessed robot. Time spoke of playing games with mysterious children within the Moon (nobody believed it for a second).

Hours passed this way, just laughing and telling life stories. It was almost enough to just pretend Legend had regressed only because he'd been feeling little and not because nightmares had woken him up screaming many times that night. The veteran showed no signs of recollection; he was happy, content to just be little and let his brothers care for him. He sat patiently while Wind and Warriors braided flowers into his hair, speaking very little but making excited noises whenever pleased. Wind couldn't imagine anything other than his little sister, but the comparison made his heart melt regardless.

Eventually, Wild had decided to start making the promised apple crumble. His plan had initially been to just slip away and make it in peace, but Legend had other plans.

"I wanna help! Can I cut the apples?" He asked earnestly, poking his head over Wild's shoulder.

"Sure! Just be very careful, okay? Don't be afraid to ask for help." Wild responded with a warm smile, handing the little veteran an apple and one of his blunter knives.

Legend nodded eagerly and scurried off. He placed the apple in his lap and chopped it with very precise cuts considering his mental age. It was good! He went back and forth to Wild with handfuls of chopped apple. Until he cut himself.

It had been an accident; he got carried away and cut too far and sliced the skin of his palm. At first, Legend just stared. Staring...

Then he burst into tears, cupping the injured hand with the other and holding them close to his chest.

"Woah- hey buddy, you okay?" Hyrule, being the closest, rushed over to help. His hands hovered awkwardly, with him not being used to dealing with crying children.

"M-m-my- my hand!" Legend wailed, turning to Hyrule with tears in his eyes. His little state... isn't good with handling pain.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! Gimme your hand, I'll show you something cool." Hyrule offered his hand, keeping a smile on his face. This tone seemed to work whenever Twilight cared for little Legend, so hopefully it'll be good-?

Sniffing, Legend slowly put his hurt hand in Hyrule's. With a small hum from the curly haired traveller, his palm lit up in a refreshing mint hue and all pain evaporated from the (admittedly small) wound. Legend watched in wonder, eyes sparkling. Hyrule just smiled and gave it a small, gentle kiss. What he wasn't expecting was for Legend to flop forward into his arms, face buried in the crook of his neck and the veteran's own arms latched around his waist.

"Thankyou!" Legend's voice, a little muffled, called out. His previous fear was replaced by warmth and an intense need to hug someone, but Hyrule didn't mind.

By now Wild had enough apples for now, so set them all in his cooking pot with a generous amount of brown sugar and cinnamon. Stirring occasionally, he let the mixture simmer over a low flame while he crumbled together flour, sugar, and butter. By the time it'd reached a nice consistency, the apple chunks had softened and the sugar had melted them slightly into a bubbling mixture. Deciding it's good enough, Wild crumbled the now crumbly dough over the top, finishing it off with brown sugar and oats. He then threw a little dirt over the fire, placing another pot over the top and placing ashes on top of that.

By the time he'd turned around, the scene was completely changed. Hyrule was gently rocking Legend back and forth while the boy clung to him happily, the traveller awkwardly looking to Wind for confirmation he was doing something right. Four and Sky sat beside eachother under a tree, with Four reading a book while Sky carved something out of wood. Warriors and Twilight were... wrestling??? For some reason, and Time was goading them on instead of stopping them.

You know what? Not his circus, not his monkeys. Actually, what is a monkey...? Ah whatever. Wild decided to just sit by Hyrule, Legend, and Wind. He contemplated just taking a nap, but decided against it. A burnt apple crumble would probably crumble (heh) Legend's fragile mental state into dust.

...

Long story short, everyone loved it. Legend burst into tears again and hugged Wild so tight he might've bruised a rib, but did he care? Absolutely not. He made his brother happy, and that's what mattered.

In fact, it was enough to soothe the veteran into a light snooze, which ended up trapping Wild. But, upon waking, Legend decided that maybe he was ready to be an adult again.

He can finally take on his responsibilities, knowing his brothers have his back.

- your eeby sleeby mutual (please be kind, I haven't written any age regression fics before, I just think the concept is sweet)

: O

oh my gosh!!! this is so sweet!!!! (you literally had me nearly crying and pacing my house afterwards)

for your first one i'm astounded!! it's adorable!!! (also i feel as though you have read "Tiny Bunny in his Burrow, Gazing up at the Sky")

i loved this so much thank you so much!! you have spurred me on to continue my Little Legend writings!

i hope you have a wonderful day and have a cookie and a hug if you like those.

and here's a sketch from one of my favourite moments:

okay i'm going to stop rambling now, but just know you made my entire week! (i received this when i wasn't doing great and you kinda just turned everything around,)

[allwormdiet]

Extermination 8.5

Skitter is now one for three on interacting with New Wave kids without making them hate her.

Also fun fact I actually hit the image limit while making this post so I had to nix a few of the smaller observations made, there's just that much shit going on

Neat to meet more of New Wave, but boy I wish it was under different circumstances

Also Taylor you were so close to making that descriptor of their anguish work, you shouldn't have acknowledged it

How fucking harrowing must it be to let your daughter go anywhere near the fucking thing that killed your son.

Also I like how even as Skitter realizes that this is not the time or place, she's still indignant at being called "the girl."

What an awful fucking day for all of them. What can even be done, what can even be said?

Just a wet fucking cat of a girl, being carried through the air.

Oh hey Coil, bet your asshole is clenching really fucking hard rn

I wish there was a way for Coil to drown down there without killing Dinah too, but alas

Also absolutely insane that this has all been in the span of, what, an hour? Maybe a little more? What the fuck

And here's Parian proving that she's actually a huge badass

"Why manipulate cloth" honestly my first assumption is that it's bc her power is cloth control

Really fucking funny that people apparently keep thinking that superpowers are magic, though

We hardly knew ye.

I did learn that this is a retcon; Browbeat survived in the initial version of the story, although he quit the Wards in the wake of this attack and never comes up again. The retcon was in... 2019? Reasoning is speculative but I guess people kept making stupid jokes about Browbeat and he got tired of it?

Hey you know what though, really good showing overall, better than a bunch of other capes today

Okay so did this attack go through Leviathan? What the fuck is going on with this Flechette girl, that is utterly fucking cracked. Armsmaster's fucking nanothorns couldn't hack that, what is she doing where her shots do this kinda damage.

Leviathan likes playing with its fucking food, which is weird as hell

This dramatic fucker

God that's so cool, just opening up a fucking chasm in the middle of the battlefield.

...I wonder if it was trying to get into the bunker like Coil was afraid of. I know enough about Noelle to know that could've gone really fucking poorly.

Laserdream is cool, does she get much love in the fandom or is she too peripheral a character for that?

This is kinda funny ngl

That's a lot of fucking dead people, Jesus H

Taylor you are genuinely being too cool about this, your arm is still broken

He can do anything he wants down there, it's terrifying

Very funny that Armsmaster's brand-spanking-new halberd is being put to better use in this fight by people who aren't him and for purposes he didn't intend

Haha, wuh oh!

First indicator that Coil's got some pretty remarkable commercial ties considering he managed to sneak his own fucking Endbringer shelter in for private use and nobody noticed.

Also, god that's gotta be fucking terrifying

...I think like 99% of things that have come up in this arc are fucking terrifying if we're being real for a second but I'm gonna keep saying it

Seeing someone who treats you like dirt and have a happy life outside of treating you like dirt is a certain kind of agony. Also fuck Gladly on principle tbh.

Ah fuck

She could have so easily given into spite and let them all suffer and die. She was under no obligation beyond her own drive to be good, to be better, to be better than Gladly. And that's why she's among the best of these fucking people.

And so the bug girl, both creepy AND wet, goes in there and saves everyone left standing by shoving the Halberd up Levi's nonexistent asshole and baiting him back out the shelter

She's a bigger hero than so many of the others

This might be one of the most intensely and personally terrifying moments of all. Paralysis and drowning hand in hand. A slow and insidious kind of horror.

Rachel Lindt MVP

Well hey, cool of Rachel to be concerned though

They should be giving Bitch the key to the fucking city for this, honestly

This poor girl sacrificed the closest thing she has to family to buy even a fraction of extra time for this asscrack of a city

And then there's this fucking asshole

Imagine if God thought you, personally and specifically, fucking sucked. What a weird feeling that must be.

Skipping past the downturn in the fighting and the teleportation bc we have to get to the conclusion of the chapter

Taylor did more to save this whole city than any of these people can even imagine, and they manhandle her into a cot and cuff her broken-ass arm because y'can't be too careful with villains, can you

This is going to go so poorly

Current Thoughts

Taylor did more, in the moment-to-moment breakdown of tracking, fighting, and responding to Leviathan, than like 90% of the other capes in this whole fucking deal, and nobody will ever know the full extent of it. She might have honestly saved more lives than Armsmaster, because he was too busy fucking grandstanding in the moments leading up to his, ahaha, disarmament.

Skitter is a hero, idgaf what anyone says. She earned better than what she's about to be fucking put through, that's for sure.

[zeivira]

How do you think Emilia and the others would react to the concept of dreaming in No Rest for the Wicked?

“If I’m honest— sleeping isn’t even that bad,” Subaru starts, rubbing his eyes. He woke up an hour ago, but he still feels pretty sleepy— and how could he not, when Otto decided that the first thing he needed to do in the morning was discuss taxes with him? “You get to dream every night, which is pretty cool if you ask me.”

Subaru lets himself sink deeper into Emilia’s office couch. He loves it when she lets him watch her work.

He doesn’t usually like talking about sleeping much, not after all the trouble it already gave him— but today he dreamed he had momentarily traveled back in time to when he was eight years old, and was able to hug his parents one more time. Waking up hadn’t left him fatigued, on the contrary, it left him much better rested than usual. At least until Otto decided to be a pest, of course.

“Dreams?” Emilia raises her gaze from the papers in her desk and tilts her head to the side. “What are dreams?”

“Dreams are, uh…” He blinks. How could one describe dreaming? “It’s like traveling to another world—” no, that doesn't sound right, “—except the world doesn’t really exist ‘cus it’s merely a product of your imagination.” He crosses his arms. Did that even make sense? “Do you not do something like that when you are unconscious?”

People from Lugunica can still faint from blood-loss or other wounds. They surely had to dream then, right?

“You travel to another world when you sleep?”

Ok, maybe that was too much. Subaru blushes at the wonder marrying her voice. “Well, not literally. They are just a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep.”

“Natsuki-san, are you implying that when you sleep you… hallucinate?” The reason for his current nightmares —Otto— opens the door of Emilia’s office with a sack of papers in his hands and turns to stare at him.

Subaru pauses and rubs his chin, deep in thought. Can dreams be considered hallucinations?

“Hallucinations?” Emilia repeats, voice distant.

Otto sighs. “Indeed, when people are in agony, they sometimes see things that aren't there."

Subaru starts laughing, then stops when he realizes what Otto actually meant. “Wait— what?” Oh cmon, this can’t happen again.  “I already said I'm not in pain when I sleep.”

“You say many things,” Otto glares. “But Lady Beatrice said you often squirm or wake up crying.”

Emilia gasps.

“You know that?!” Subaru stands up, then raises his hand to hold his head at the whiplash from changing positions so quickly. His own words finally sink in as his eyes widen. “I mean— I absolutely do not do that.”

Otto squints at him. He hadn’t missed his slight headache. “You should have told the healer about the hallucinations when he visited last week, Natuki-san.”

“They aren’t hallucinations.” Subaru blinks.

“Your description sure matched them. What is the difference between hallucinations and dreams, then?”

Emilia interrupts. “Are dreams another symptom of Subaru’s Partial Sleeping Beauty, then? Should we make sure he doesn’t dream?”

Otto shakes his head. “The only way to make him stop dreaming would be to make him stop sleeping, and the doctor said we shouldn't.”

“But that’s…”

“Time out!” Subaru raises his arms, crosses them and forms a stop sign. “The squirming is completely unrelated to the dreaming. I like dreaming, It’s relaxing.” Unless he is having a nightmare, he knows better than to address that topic.

Emilia’s purple eyes fill with tears. “Is your condition so bad that you prefer spending so many hours in a fake world rather than real life?”

What the fuck.

“No, absolutely not! I love real life is just—” Subaru groans.

He should have learnt to shut up by now.

(Some hours later:

“I wonder if Heinkel-san’s wife dreams,” Emilia says during dinner, after calming down. “If she has to sleep for so many years, it would be nice if she were to hallucinate that she is in a world in which her family is safe and sound.”)

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Comforting Hands

Captain America x Reader

wc: 0.9 K summary: you are sick but Steven is here to take care warnings: fluff, no y/n used a/n: this is dedicated to my bestie @dollyure (again) because she won't stop talking about this man. help her. (but also because there's apparently too much smut about him and no fluff) (divider) enjoy!!

It started with your throat feeling sore when waking up in the morning. You still decided to go to work after drinking a hot tea for breakfast and taking a cough drop before going out. At your work desk, you tried your best to concentrate and focus on your work, but the rising temperature overall was distracting. It started to get more difficult sending out emails, let alone making logical sentences in one go. Sighing out, you lean back in your chair and try to stretch, but it only makes you groan and grimace in slight pain. Maybe you underestimated the sore throat in the morning, but now it‘s too late to go home after being halfway through your workday. It‘s not like typing on a computer and organising a few things is a hard job – you try to tell yourself.

Once the clock strikes five, you have a runny nose and a slight cough. At least you finished your work on time, so you don‘t have anything else to do for the rest of the day. Rising off your chair and getting out of your office — albeit cranky — you manage to be back at home after a careful car ride. But once you step a foot inside, all your energy leaves you instantly.

It‘s as if your body gave up completely and all you can do is lay in bed and try to warm up. The fever is causing your body to shiver even when lying in three sets of blankets. Your whole body hurts, including a piercing migraine that doesn‘t want to leave you at peace.

Of course you thought you‘d catch a cold after going out in a cute outfit on a date, which was actually too short for the rainy weather. Still, you didn‘t take Steven‘s jacket. Now you regret it.

The front door clicks open after taking a short nap, followed by the familiar voice of your boyfriend. He announces his arrival but gets worried at the silence that follows up afterwards. Wandering into the living room, he gets confused as to why he doesn‘t see you curled up in one of your favourite blankets and with the TV playing a random show. Continuing with his search, he dips his head into the bedroom.

Steven pauses as he sees the big pile of blankets, realising that you are inside, curled up and visibly tired. Exhausted. You notice him in the doorframe and give him a slow blink as a form of greeting, and he sighs out.

»What happened, sweetheart? Are you sick?« You give him a small groan in response, meaning to hum in response, but your sore throat won‘t allow it. He frowns in response and sits down at the edge of the bed, rubbing your shoulder lightly.

»Did you go to work today?« After a brief nod, he gives you a disappointed look.

»Always so stubborn, huh?« He mutters more to himself before he presses a light kiss against your forehead, frowning once more at the temperature of your skin.

»I‘ll make you soup, okay? Just stay here.«

With that, he leaves you alone in your quiet agony again and gets on about taking care of you. While in the kitchen, you can already smell the chicken broth starting to cook and hear the soft chopping sounds from cutting vegetables. Once he got the soup to cook peacefully in the pot, he returned and got you some much-needed medicine. Ibuprofen to make the fever go away and put a nasal spray for colds at your nightstand. After pressing another kiss to your forehead, he goes back to the kitchen and pours a bowl of soup for you.

»Careful, it‘s hot...« He murmurs as he slowly re-enters the room and places the hot bowl into your lap after you sit up.

The broth is steaming, and you warm your hands against it while taking in the comforting scent… at least you are trying to, with how stuffed your nose is. Steven watches you before he gets comfortable beside you, letting you eat carefully while he opens his book and continues reading where he left off last time. You barely managed to get down two spoons before you turned your head towards him, pouting sadly.

»Throat hurts...«

»Throat hurts? Try at least two more bites, you need to eat.« He mumbles back as he scoots closer, rubbing your back with a gentle hand. His warm palm works like a charm, sending a pleasant shiver through your spine before warming you up further.

With all your last remaining energy, you manage to down three spoonfuls, which makes Steven even more satisfied.

»See? Wasn‘t that hard, was it?« After a small groan from your side, he takes the bowl from you and leaves the room to tidy the kitchen briefly. By the time he‘s back, you are already lying on your side, blankets thrown over your form that‘s finally getting better.

Steven‘s expression softens as he joins you, getting in behind you and hugging you without hesitation. You can‘t help but feel fuzzy at the action, shifting to press your back further up his chest. His strong arms embrace you tightly, a protective grip around you.

»Feeling better?«

Steven‘s voice sends another shiver down your spine, getting warm all over again. It‘s like he knows, adjusting his grip on you before nuzzling in the crook of your neck. His breath brings a comfort of its own, starting to stop complaining about your cold to yourself. Maybe it was a good idea not to accept his jacket on that day…

←MASTERLIST

[specific-dreamer]

claiming this as my free space on outsiders bingo

titles from reunion square - warriors the musical

i’ll be putting it on ao3 in a little while as well but as of rn here you go :)

when you woke up today you didn’t think you could die, neither did i (but you don’t decide)

Johnny was never that big on helping people. He wouldn’t say he goes out of his way to torment people, but, well sometimes Dally’s schemes are really funny. That being said, Johnny Cade was not planning on saving those kids. After Dally’s lecture, he was ready to get in the passenger seat and commandeer the radio with a nice cigarette.

He should’ve known that if any of them would have gone back for those kids it’d be Ponyboy. So, Johnny followed. Not to save the kids, but to save Ponyboy. But then Pony handed him that first kid and, well, Johnny’s always wanted to be a hero, okay. When he started saving those kids it was like something ignited inside of him. He suddenly saw himself as the kind of hero that only appears in comics and story books.

When he takes a second to catch his breath after getting all the kids out, he smiles at Pony. The church is a thousand degrees, he’s hot as all get out, but this is the most Johnny’s ever felt alive. When he gets older, he’s going to be a firefighter. There’s not many fires in Tulsa, at least not on his side of the tracks, but Johnny’s fairly sure they do other things than just fighting fires. They save people too and, not to toot his own horn, but Johnny thinks he’s pretty good at this saving people business.

He turns to Ponyboy with a grin on his face to tell him his new career path when he hears a faint voice. It’s in that split second when he turns his head, that something knocks the wind out of him. It’s heavy enough that Johnny waits a second for it to remove itself, thinking it must be a kid they missed. Four seconds pass before he realizes it can’t possibly be a kid. That’s when he feels the burning.

Johnny knows he’s on fire. He must be because it’s hot and his back is killing him. He’s always had bad back pain, courtesy of sleeping in the lot or on Two-Bit’s old couch, but this pain is something he’s never felt before. It feels like when Two-Bit’s younger sister jumps on him in the mornings to wake him up but this time she refuses to get off. If he could focus better, he might even say that he could feel the fabric of his t-shirt and the denim of his jacket fusing into his skin.

Focus, Johnny, you can’t die here. When you’re on fire you’re meant to stop, drop and roll, right? He can’t really do that though can he; he can barely move as it is. Johnny takes a shallow breath and attempts to crawl from whatever’s pinned him down, but as soon as does he collapses in sheer agony.

He can wait here, he thinks to himself, closing his eyes. His chest aches and he can’t catch his breath and suddenly Johnny’s taken back to a few weeks ago when Bob and his friends jumped him. Everything hurts just like then and at this moment there’s nothing Johnny wants more than to go home.

His eyes start to water and Johnny’s honestly not sure if it’s from the smoke and the heat or if he’s crying, but in one last effort for help he screams. He screams for everybody, Dally, Ponyboy, Steve, Two-Bit, Ace, Sodapop, and Darry too. He’s not too sure any of them actually heard him, he doesn’t have the energy let alone the air to scream too loudly.

For one blissful moment, he feels a chill and then his breath evens out.

[valeffelees]

Oh do tell about that snowbaz au of yours 👀

I WOULD FUCKING LOVE TO, thank you so much tumblr user pidgelikethebird (and also my most beloved and loyal companion @drowninginships) for providing me the enrichment i need to survive the winter.

ok gimme a min here to turn my thoughts into comprehensible words. i'm gonna say right now: this post is gonna be a LONG one, but 10 out of 10 scientists agree you should read to the end.

so, if you didn't know, The Beauty Inside is a Korean romcom from 2015, based off an American short film of the same name; the orig short film i linked is an extremely quick watch (only 6 episodes, each one 4-10 minutes long) and i would absolutely recommend it, but the very basics of the premise is that: a man wakes up in his bed on his 18th birthday to find he's in a completely different body than his own, and every day since then, he wakes up as somebody new.

AND OBVS I JUST HAD TO FUCKING SNOWBAZ THAT, which is how my AU, titled In the Many Ways of Loving You, was born:

Simon Snow wakes up every day as somebody new; the only person who knows the truth is Penny, his best friend and roommate, since she's been by his side since it all began ten years ago.

he works on commission as a custom bookbinder—like, he has an Etsy or some shit, i dunno, some kinda online shop where people can commission him in a variety of ways to rebind their favourite books, either by paying extra for Simon to buy the book himself and rebind it from new and send it to them, or sometimes collectors will send their personal copies to him to have him rebind them, and he's very good at it, and N E WAY the point of this is that he has a small bookshop he's been going to regularly for the last eight or so years, because it's close to his and Penny's flat, and where the story begins: Baz is a new employee that just started working there about two weeks ago and Simon has a massive crush on him.

ok, now. day one: when we meet Simon for the first time, he wakes up and he's lovely and blonde and brown-eyed and ok, yeah, i've just made him look like Agatha bc i thought it'd be kinda funny, esp since Agatha's not actually in the fic otherwise.

and Simon has to pick up a copy of some random book from the bookshop today bc someone bought a custom binding of it, so he goes down and, as usual, since it's his job, Baz has to come over to talk to him and is like, "hey, can I help you with anything?" and Simon doesn't need any help bc he's been coming to this shop for years, but every time Baz asks he says yes bc he wants the excuse to talk to him, and on this day Simon is like, wait. i'm so hot rn. so he asks Baz out—

and Baz is like [finger guns] absolutely not.

and Simon is like 👁️👄👁️ welp i'm in fucking agony.

but whatever, fine. a guy like Baz is prolly already in a proper relationship, and it's always a bad idea for Simon to get involved with someone he has to see on the reg. he had to start going to a different coffee shop that's twenty minutes out of his way bc he went out on a great date with one of the baristas at his old spot and then obvs couldn't go out again after just that one time, and it made him super emo, so really, Baz saying no was prolly for the best.

TIMESKIP, it's been a few days and Simon has to go down to the bookshop again. but this time he's a bloke. and so Baz comes up to ask if Simon needs help and he says yeah, as usual, and the two of them end up having a bantery convo about the book Simon's looking for bc they've both read it and Baz hated it, but Simon loved it, and it's just very cute and casual, and then Baz is like. so, my shift ends in liiike... four hours. are you doing anything?

and Simon is like. OH. OH!!!

that whole "it's prolly for the best" thing? yeah, fuck that, that was Simon of the past, he doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about bc cute bookshop guy wants to hang out and so they go out and have the most fucking insane romcom date ever.

'cause you gotta remember, Simon only gets one real day with people, so he doesn't do like casual coffee dates or movies or whatever. they go out and like fucking B&E a museum after hours bc Simon knows someone like the janitor or something (i dunno) leaves one of the back doors unlocked so he can step out for a cig every few hours, so they sneak in and have the time of their life running around looking at art while trying not to get caught, and we're going to use the suspended disbelief bestowed upon us by the power of romcoms to pretend security cameras aren't a thing, and it is BRILLIANT. like, Simon and Baz have so much chemistry, and when the night ends Baz is just like all smiles and creased eyes and messy black hair and, breathlessly: "I want to see you again."

and Simon's heart drops. because he wants to see Baz again, too, but he can't. no matter how much he wants to, he can't. when he wakes up tomorrow he's going to be someone new, so he can't, he can't, he can't, he—

"Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow?"

SIMON NO!!!

"It's a date."

FUCK!!!

ok, so now we have a problem. Simon can't just stand him up, i mean he could but he doesn't want to, and he really does want to see him again, so he does the only thing he can think of: he stays awake. all fucking night.

Baz, the next day: "You look exhausted."

Simon, wired asf on caffeine and trying to be smooth: "Had someone on my mind all night."

and then they go have another wicked date, but i have nothing in my notes about what it is. oh, i have them living in Canada in this fic btw bc as a rule, if a fic doesn't have to be set in England, i move them to Canada for comfort. so i might have them go cliff jumping or something? who knows. we'll go with that for now.

cue the romcom montage.

[mother tongue starts playing SO DON'T SAY YOU LOVE ME FALA AMO, JUST LET YOUR HEART SPEAK UP AND I'LL KNOW]

ok. post-date. Simon is so dumb and infatuated with Baz and does something only a boy who is dumb and infatuated and sleep-deprived would do in his situation, and he goes back to Baz's flat with him to "watch a movie", or in other words: the movie starts and then they prolly have sex, but in my notes this is written as "??? smash ???" so i guess it's kinda up in the air.

either way, Simon passes the fuck out at Baz's place bc he was properly exhausted by that point, and he wakes up to Baz screaming at him bc obvs he looks like a different person now.

Simon, half-asleep: [PANICKED FLAILING] BAZ IT'S ME!!! STOP THROWING THINGS!!! BAZ!!! IT'S ME, IT'S SIMON!!!

and Baz is like: WHAT THE FUCK

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN

and Baz is like: HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN!!!

so, here's a detail from the orig film that comes into play here: in the orig movie, the MC keeps a video diary, logging every day what his face looks like, and in this, Simon does this on his phone and backs them up to his computer every hundred days, so he gives Baz his phone and tells him the whole story while Baz scrolls through these short like minute long videos of Simon on various days going, "Hey, this is me today. I have [this and such] thing to do, blah blah blah."

and the thing is, Baz recognises him in some of them. bc Simon is always coming into the bookshop. he stops watching when he gets to the day Simon looked like Agatha, and Simon has been quiet for a while at this point, just letting Baz process.

Baz: "I want you to leave."

Simon takes his phone without a word and goes. Penny picks him up on the corner a block over and drives him back to their flat. she doesn't ask what happened. she already has a pretty good idea.

when Simon's next commission comes in, he thinks about going to another bookshop, he really does. but this one is so convenient, esp since Simon can't drive bc he can't risk getting pulled over carrying a licence that doesn't have his face on it, and he's been going there for eight years and it's not like Baz will recognise him anyway.

so, to the bookshop he goes, but this time when Baz comes up to ask if he needs help, Simon is like, "haha, no that's okay," and goes back to looking for things on his own, and Baz kinda lingers awkwardly for a moment before going on his way, but then when Simon comes up to the till to pay for the book, Baz just stands there staring at him. and Simon is so uncomfortable, like, he just wants to leave—

"Simon?"

SORRY, YOU WHAT?

"What?" Simon gapes at him. "How did— how did you? But I'm—"

"Can we talk?" Baz asks.

"How did you know it was—"

Baz shouts over to the other employee on the floor that he's taking his lunch break, and Simon just slowly follows him out of the shop with the book forgotten, unpaid for, at the check-out.

and here's the deal, Baz liked Simon a stupid amount considering they'd only gone on two dates, but they were good dates, and Baz doesn't date much, so he's a bit hung up on just how much he liked Simon and the weird way shit ended, so he's basically like. i want to see it again. and Simon is like, see what? and Baz is like, you. the... whatever that you do, i want to see you change.

and that's how Simon ends up bringing Baz back to his flat, and btw: Simon has a rule about never bringing people back to his flat bc it's weird as fuck. his room is really tiny, and it's cluttered as fuck in a Howl's bedroom type way. he keeps to the same cheap, casual style for all his clothes, but he needs things in a bunch of sizes. shoes are a nightmare. he has to take care of his hair in a million different fucking ways. so he has the lives of a dozen people shoved into a room the size of a shoebox, and his mattress has no frame. that shit is just on the floor, so it takes up less space. and there's this mirror, a wide full bodied mirror, propped up against the wall facing the bed, so that the first thing Simon can do each day is roll over and look at himself.

Simon and Baz have supper together, they talk, they pretend this isn't weird as fuck and, even though it is weird as fuck, they still have so much chemistry, and this is a fanfic, so they just end up having sex again but it's supposed to be kinda emo and tender and look, it's what my heart wants, ok?

morning comes. Simon wakes to Baz's hands on his face. which is already and improvement compared to last time. Baz is looking at him very seriously, but also very like. softly. he's touching Simon's features, tracing them, and Simon is quiet for a very long time, watching him do this, until he's just like. what are you doing.

Baz: "Getting to know you." A pause. "Why does it happen?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz: "Are there other people like you?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz, sighing: "Well, what do you know?"

Simon: "That I'm still me. Inside, I mean. Like... if you had a book, and every day you gave it a new cover, the story wouldn't change."

Baz: "You must get lost on a lot of shelves."

Simon: "Yeah."

and from there, Baz is just a part of Simon's life the same way Penny is, he knows the truth, and he deals with it. for the first time in Simon's adult life, he gets to really date. he and Baz do a bunch of domestic shit together, for months, and it's so good. all of it is so good, all the time, and they fall so fucked up deep in love with each other.

(detail from this point that is relevant later: Baz and Simon make a game out of Baz recognising Simon at work on days when he hasn't seen yet what he looks like. Simon will come in and try to act like a stranger, but Baz can Where's Waldo him every time.)

but then Christmas comes. and Baz has to go home to see his family. and i don't have an exact idea of how this convo goes, only that it is not a fight of any kind, like, it is a normal convo about the holidays but Baz apologises to Simon during it for not telling his family about him, he says they'd want Baz to bring Simon home if he did (bc i just don't wanna fuck with homophobia in this so we've shot Malcolm with the ally beam) and he wouldn't know how to explain Simon's whole... thing to them, and Simon kinda realises that like. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz can bring home to his family. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz gets to have a normal life with.

SO SIMON GHOSTS HIM.

like, Baz comes back from his family's place, annoyed that Simon hasn't returned any of his texts or calls, only to find that Simon and Penny have literally fucking moved flats in the two weeks he's been gone. and obvs he's fucking devastated and confused by this and desperately trying to get Simon to respond to him, but he won't.

Simon goes out of his way to find a new bookshop to go to, and that's the end of things for about a week or so, and i haven't actually decided what happens here exactly, but the general idea i wanna go with is that Simon goes to the bookshop Baz works at just for the sake of seeing him, checking up on him, bc he misses him.

but remember that game they played? so yeah, Baz walks up to say his usual like, "hey, can I help you find anything?" but he fucking clocks Simon after like ten seconds.

scene change: they're in Simon's new flat, like maybe Baz demanded that if Simon is going to break up with him he owes it to him to do it goddamn properly, but i dunno. details, details. but they end up getting in a huge fucking fight and Simon reveals the reason he ghosted Baz was bc he realised Baz can't have a real life with him and Baz is like:

"You don't get to decide that for me! You're still you, you're still lovely—"

"You don't even know what I look like!"

"I don't care what you look like, you fucking moron, I care that you're Simon Snow! There's a person inside you that exists every day, even when everything else changes, and he's lovely. I love him. The rest doesn't matter, how can you not see that? Stop telling me I'm not allowed to love you however you are, I'll love you a hundred different ways, Simon. Any size, any shape. I'll love you over, and over, and over. That's a life for me. A real life for me. You!"

and then Simon throws his arms around Baz's neck and hugs him like he needs him to breathe and Baz clings to his shirt and they're both prolly crying all loud and gross, but it's fine. they're gonna be fine.

the next day: Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck. "Like this one, then?" he says.

"Loveliest yet." Baz brushes his knuckles over the slope of Simon's shoulder. "Freckles, curls, broad shoulders... Mmm, maybe we should stay in bed today."

Simon laughs and rolls over to pin Baz to the mattress, grinning at him. he goes to say something, prolly rib at him the way they do, but as he does he catches his reflection in that mirror he keeps by his bed and he freezes.

"Holy shit!" he shouts, and shoves himself up onto his knees. "That's me!"

Baz rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, I told you—"

Simon shakes his head furiously. "No, it's. Baz. I'm. Jesus fucking Christ, that's me. Baz, that's me."

Baz sits up slowly. "Do you mean—"

"Fuck, holy shit!" Simon grabs his curls with both hands. he hasn't touched these curls in ten fucking years. he looks older than he remembers himself, which is a given, but it's definitely him. his father's eyes, his mother's chin. the moles on his cheek, above his eyebrow, below his ear.

Simon freaks out in a way that kinda toes the line between being happy and being a breakdown, he throws himself at Baz, and they both fall back onto the bed and Simon is laughing and he's shaking and he doesn't understand, he doesn't get it, but holy fuck, he has his own face, he has his own body, he has his own hands. Baz pushes them apart so he can get a look at him, and Simon is actually kinda self-conscious when he does, which is a new feeling. he never has to feel self-conscious about anything, usually, since he knows every flaw or insecurity isn't really his, and will be gone the next day, but this is just... him.

Baz takes Simon's face in his hands and then, breathlessly, "Hello, Simon Snow."

AND THEN THEY KISS bc what else would they do here.

and uhh, yeah. so. Simon goes out to the kitchen where Penny is making breakfast and she loses her shit when she sees him. big hugs all around. Baz really does take the day off work to spend it with Simon, even though that just means lying around on the sofa watching movies while Simon works on his current rebinding commission. when Penny gets home that evening, they order takeaway and sit around the lounge room playing boardgames together until late, late, late into the night. Penny falls asleep in the armchair, and now it's 3-am.

Simon is tired. he's looking at the clock, sitting with his knees up and his arms around them, with Baz beside him. Baz has his forehead on his shoulder, an arm around his waist. he doesn't want to go to bed, because what if... what if it was only for today. how long will it be until the next time? what if there is no next time, what if, what if—

"We'll still be here," Baz whispers, exhausted. "And you'll still be you. No matter what, Simon."

and so they go to bed.

Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck.

"Good morning, Simon Snow."

AND YEAH, that is the entire plot of my The Beauty Inside AU.

i told you this was gonna be a long one, but if you've made it all the way to the end of this mess, thank you kindly again for indulging me!

[waynes-multiverse]

Rehab – Prologue

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, general angst

Word Count: 778

A/N: Welcome, friends! I’ve missed writing for Soldier Boy, and I’m so happy to have this dirty, ol’ gramps back. Be aware, tho, that some topics are of a darker nature and it doesn’t necessarily have the happy ending y’all are imagining 😉 That being said, enjoy this prologue and lemme know if you wanna be on the series tag list for this story!

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prologue: rehab

“How are his latest test results?”

“Looking good, ma’am. His body is behaving exactly like we wanted it to. The Compound V is gone from his system after the third dose, and he’s recovering as expected. His vitals look very promising.”

“Good, good.” Grace Mallory nods at the young doctor in a white lab coat, a smirk playing across her thin lips as she looks at the unconscious fallen hero through the glass of his cryopod. “Wake him up and move him to the facility Upstate with the others,” she orders.

And so it happened that Soldier Boy was no longer a threat, the once most dangerous bomb on the planet defused, rendered harmless and impotent. These days, the former venomous snake was no more frightening than a toothless blindworm.

Y/N’s head lifts from the backgammon board in front of her and drifts to the commotion streaming in from the hall as the high-security metal entrance doors of the facility fly wide open. Curiously, she rises from her lounge chair, abandoning her winning match against her companion, and stalks closer, leaning against a concrete column. Three CIA agents hold down and wrangle with a furiously screaming man – broad-shouldered, longer sandy-blond hair, and neatly trimmed beard. They push him inside with all the strength they can muster while the guy in agony fights tooth and nail against the restraining arms around him.

“LET ME GO! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL! NO! NO! GET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! NOOOO! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?! YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’LL FUCKING END YOU FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME!”

Y/N, however, is not so surprised by that circumstance. After all, the guy’s not the first person that has ever tried to fight his way out of supe rehab. It happens all the time. In fact, she might be one of the few that actually came here willingly. Her brow significantly raises, though, as Grace Mallory strolls in behind the four men. Officially retired from the CIA but still in charge of Project Bloom, she only comes along for the special cases, the big fish, and as Y/N squints her eyes and takes a closer look at the newest arrival, her heart completely stops and drops to her slippers on the ivory linoleum.

“Is that–” She stumps, not daring to say the supe’s name aloud.

“Ben, yes,” Mallory nods and smiles, enjoying the struggle a little too much, her eyes practically fixated on the green-eyed man. “Of course, you might know him only as Soldier Boy.”

Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat. So it really is him. The sole reason why she’s here, the greatest superhero that ever lived who was captured and brainwashed by the commies – or so Vought claims. She’s never met him personally before today, but Soldier Boy’s surely been on the news a lot in recent years – the radioactive hero and his killing sprees. Whispered rumors among supes even say he fathered Homelander, which, if true, is just a blatant crime against humanity in and of itself.

“Do me a favor, Y/N? You’re our most experienced patient here – take him under your wing, make sure he adjusts and stays out of trouble,” Mallory says, albeit it’s unmistakably meant as an order. The CIA doesn’t do nicely phrased requests.

“Alright,” Y/N nods resolutely, hoping the former CIA deputy director doesn’t notice the thick swallow that drips down her throat. Her eyes swerve back to the man in question, one of the doctors forcefully ramming a needle into his jugular as the hero screams at the top of his lungs before his bowed legs give in. The violent green eyes lose their fight and close, and he succumbs to the linoleum with a loud thud worthy of his massive stature. “Is that really necessary?”

Y/N always hates when they sedate someone. After all, the clinic is supposed to help people, not necessarily torture them, albeit the CIA often shares a different view than her.

Mallory just scoffs darkly. “It is. Trust me. He’s a handful,” she notes condescendingly and rolls her eyes. “You have your work cut out for you with this moronic bastard. Don’t fall for his charm, and if he becomes dangerous, shoot him in the head. I trust your judgment.”

Y/N’s stomach churns at her words, watching as the former hero’s lifeless body gets dragged down the hallway into a room, the door locking behind him. And while she knows Soldier Boy is no innocent angel, she can’t help the sympathy that permeates her heart.

What do you see when you look at me? Don't cover my scars, let them bleed

Chapter 1: maybe

Mallory’s clearly not a Soldier Boy stan like us 😂 Hope you enjoyed this little intro, peeps! 🖤

Tag Lists:

Everything J (Prologue & Chapter 1 only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

Rehab Series: @eevvvaa @deans-spinster-witch @iamsapphine @jessjad @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @spalady26 @zepskies @syrma-sensei @muchamusedaboutnothing​

Note: Wanna be on the series tag and don’t see yourself yet? Lemme know! Everything J won’t be tagged anymore after Chapter 1.

[jahayla-parker]

Note/confession: this was an unplanned fic that I’ve written to shamelessly offer myself some semblance of comfort (or as I told @ell0ra-br3kk3r , remedying me needing my Freddy fix after the events of my trip; which you’ll more or less read about below- except unlike y/n I don’t actually have Freddy to comfort me 😭)

Bite Me : Freddy Carter x Reader

Description: 2.3k wc, y/n is fortunate enough to be looked after by her wonderfully caring husband Freddy after her recent vacation took an unexpected turn. Fluff, hurt/sick comfort.

Warnings: not proofread yet, one curse right at the start, mentions of bug bites and bugs, mentions of bug bite symptoms and treatment (including prescriptions and other medical settings & topics), minor mentions of a small amount of blood (from scratching too hard).

“Fuck me,” y/n whimpered, her body feeling truly miserable. She had been on a trip with friends to several beaches over the last week and now she was covered in bites. Prior to being bitten by them, she’d never even heard of no see ums. But, that didn’t stop them from aggressively attacking all areas of y/n’s body.

Freddy frowned as he watched y/n twitch as she tried to restrain herself from scratching at the inflamed, red, aggravated bites. He’d been bitten by the particular bug only once before and only a handful of marks formed that time, but he still knew how terribly itchy the welts could be. He even recalled having wished to have been bitten by mosquitoes instead as no see ums are far worse. As such, Freddy felt horrible for his wife.

“We’re almost there, darling,” Freddy encouraged softly. He reached across the console to grab Y/N’s hand, his thumb cautiously rubbing the back of it while avoiding the multiple bites present there. When y/n hummed begrudgingly in response, Freddy gazed over at her and his eyes once again tried to scan just how many bites she was covered in. He’d tried to count them upon her return home, but she just wanted to sleep as she’d gotten in at the early hours of the morning today. Unfortunately, as Freddy suspected, y/n had only been able to get a couple hours of sleep before waking up due to the pain and discomfort. Therefore, he was now driving her to the urgent care clinic nearby to be seen.

Y/n had initially been against Freddy’s idea, feeling like she was utilizing resources that would be better used by others. But, after Freddy had made it a point to authentically count out each of the bumps on her right lower leg, she quickly changed her mind. Freddy had only counted the bites on the area between the base of her right knee and the top of her right ankle. Yet, his counting was cut off by y/n when he’d reached 146 bites in that area alone.

It wasn’t uncommon for no see ums to bite in bunches with multiple bites on an area. But, Freddy hadn’t seen anything like this before. He could only imagine the amount of bugs that had ventured onto her legs as they decided to make a meal of her. Especially when he realized it wasn’t just her lower right leg that was bitten countless times. Instead, Freddy quickly realized the bites also more than covered y/n’s upper right leg, all the way to her bum. His despair over her predicament increased when he’d seen that the red itchy bites had mapped all over both legs in the same manner, the fronts and backs of her arms from her hands to her shoulders, her neck, chest, and entire upper and middle back areas as well. As ridiculous and impossible as it was, Freddy wished he could’ve protected his lovely wife from such an awful occurrence.

Freddy knew he couldn’t reasonably expect to count every single bite, much less when driving. But, the simple fact that when he’d looked over to do so he’d seen her agony broke his heart. Freddy sighed as she clutched her hands tightly together to keep from scratching futilely at the marks. After stopping at the next light, he leaned over and pressed a sympathetic kiss to her forehead. “I know you’re miserable, but you’re doing so well, love,” Freddy encouraged.

Freddy prepared himself to try and convince y/n to take the vile-tasting liquid medication the doctor had passed her way. Only, before he could even open his mouth, she’d confirmed with the doctor the appropriate process and then promptly downed the cup in one go. In fact, Freddy’s suspicions of the severity of her condition were confirmed when she went for a second toss of the contents in the cup to be sure to not miss a single drop of the remedy. He brushed some hair from her face and handed her a glass of water to wash down the aftertaste, hating that was all he could do for her.

Freddy listened to the doctor’s advice very carefully, asking plenty of follow-up questions to ensure he knew how to best help his wife. He’d easily memorized that in addition to the liquid steroid medication she’d just taken, the doctor was prescribing y/n some very strong prescription antihistamines to take twice a day at home. Freddy had discussed bathing and showering restrictions with the provider, making mental note to not let her take anything other than a cold water bath or shower until the welts were resolved. He had to come to terms with the notion that y/n’s severe discomfort might not be fully remedied for over two weeks even with the treatment offered. Freddy hated that idea and wanted to cry when he saw y/n holding back tears over the thought of this lasting that long.

“Oohhh,” y/n whined, a sarcastic laugh exiting her lips after. “Gaaahhh, Freddyyyyyy,” she cried out. She shifted around in her husband’s passenger seat unable to get comfortable. “It, it iiiitttcchhesss”.

Freddy’s eyes flickered from the road briefly to look at y/n. He sighed deeply with a frown. “I know,” he replied solemnly. “But-, no darling, no scratching,” Freddy directed, pulling her arm away from her thigh.

“But,” y/n croaked, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how insanely itchy her entire body was. Not to mention, there was also this simultaneous burning sensation from the bites and she was exhausted from not sleeping. Y/n genuinely didn’t think she’d been that uncomfortable before without being in excruciating pain. “It itches so badly,” y/n pointed out weakly.

With his eyes turned back onto the road, Freddy took the hand of Y/N’s he’d grabbed moments before and brought it to his lips. He placed a loving kiss on the backside of her hand. “I’m truly sorry, darling,” he acknowledged, “but scratching, well, it’ll only make it worse”.

“Oh bite me,” y/n exclaimed, using her other hand to scratch her ankle aggressively.

Freddy sighed and shook his head. He understood her desire (to the extent he was capable of that is since her situation was far worse than anything similar that he’d ever had). But, he still despised the idea that she could be harming herself by doing so. As such, he tapped one of the few clear spots on her leg and lightly shook his head at her. “Besides,” Freddy murmured, opting for another approach to his response. “I’m afraid things biting you is what got you into this situation, no?” He teased playfully, earning an unamused glare from y/n despite her small whimperish laugh.

Y/n grimaced as the itchy sensation once again fluttered through her body from head to toe and back. She began rubbing her legs against each other in hopes of having the friction ease the desire to actually scratch the bites. Y/n knew it still wasn’t likely an ideal solution, but something had to give, and at least this way she wasn’t risking opening the welts.

“Darling, it’s time,” Freddy said as he entered their living room. He quickly passed y/n her favorite water bottle and one of her newly prescribed antihistamines. They both sighed in minimal relief as she visibly swallowed the pill. It was obvious they were both hoping the pill would start to help her discomfort soon.

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. She set the water bottle down, a small smile forming as she realized her husband had explicitly cleaned her emotional support water bottle for her to use. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, noticing the confusion the sentiment made form on Freddy’s face. “I’m being difficult and whiny,” y/n admitted, “I know I am, but-“.

“Y/n, love,” Freddy coed warmly. He cupped her face; partially choosing that contact option because it was the only part of her body he could touch without further igniting the itching feeling constantly inside of her. “You can whine and complain all you want,” he said tenderly. “You’re in an absurdly unpleasant and downright desolate state,” Freddy frowned in sympathy. “You’re not being difficult by wanting to, or actually scratching, you are fighting the urge the best you can. I know that.” “Why don’t we watch something on the telly to distract you a bit?” Freddy suggested considerately.

“I am freaking miserable,” y/n said in a singsong voice. She laughed humorously as she slid her shorts back on over her irritated skin, restraining from scratching the bites. She heard Freddy’s sympathetic sigh over the faint sound of his footsteps as he made his way to their bathroom. Y/n turned on the sink faucet, groaning as she prepared to wash her hands with warm water for sanitary purposes despite knowing how much worse her symptoms would be as a result.

Just as the water trickled onto Y/N’s hand, she noticed a small bug on her left at the edge of the vanity corner. It was some small black bug, but that’s all she could tell from that angle. As such, she reached over and moved the decorative item that was blocking her eyes from determining what kind of bug it was that had broken into her home. Y/n quickly realized it was a tiny spider as it began dangling from a thin web against the wall.

Without hesitating or even thinking, Y/N smacked her bare palm against the bug. The realization of what she’d just done hit her instantaneously as she pulled her hand back and saw the squished black mark on the white bathroom wall. “I don’t fuck around with bugs anymore,” she declared thoughtlessly. Y/n didn’t realize how unhinged her behavior or remark were until she heard the way Freddy’s chuckles reverberated around their restroom.

Y/n swallowed thickly as she hurriedly washed her hands. She tried to hide her bashful expression as she spun to where Freddy was in order to dry her hands. Only, it seemed he’d noticed and it only fueled his laughter further. Y/n shot him a fake glare that quickly shifted as she burst into genuine laughter of her own over her actions.

“Bloody hell,” Freddy laughed. He snaked his arms around y/n’s lower back to avoid most of her bites. “I am absolutely enamored by you, y/n/n,” he confessed with an amused grin. “And, quite impressed, you not only didn’t ask me to kill the spider for you, but you used your bare palm to do so on your own and then trash talked it,” Freddy said as he shook his head.

Y/n giggled and cautiously rested her head against Freddy’s shoulder. She made sure she was positioned so that none of the areas of her skin that were covered in bites touched her husband. Not because they were contagious, as they weren’t, but rather to keep her symptoms from increasing. “Let’s not talk about that again,” y/n hummed bashfully.

“Oh, but, darling, we have to talk about that all again still,” Freddy argued playfully. He laughed lightheartedly at y/n’s exaggerated groan, knowing the giggles that followed it showed her true feelings over the situation.

Freddy gasped whisperingly as he entered the bedroom. He figured it was taking y/n too long to change into her pajamas, so he’d wandered that way to check on her and possibly offer some help. Only, it seemed her discomfort had intensified to the point she’d caved into the burning desire to scratch at the inflamed bites. For, Freddy had entered the bedroom to find y/n rapidly scratching any and all areas of her body she could get her hands on; her hands flying around as they moved between areas with aggressively intense speed and force. Yet, it was the already visible result of such actions that made Freddy uncontrollably gasp.

“Oh love,” Freddy whined quietly. He could only imagine how bad her body was feeling if she had resorted to painfully dragging her nails all over her skin in hopes of even temporary relief. Especially as she’d done so to the extent that several of the once red-from-inflammation welts were now red from the trace amount of blood that had begun to leave the now open bites.

Instead of scolding y/n for something he knew was a last resort effort for her, Freddy exited the bedroom and quickly returned with a wet towel. “Let’s clean these off with a cold cloth, yeah?” He suggested as he knelt down before her seated position at the edge of their bed. “Place your hands on my shoulders please, darling,” Freddy requested, planning on using that as a way to keep her from continuing to violently scratch at her body. “Perfect, thank you,” he hummed as he slowly brought the cold cloth to her bare skin.

Freddy took his time cleaning the blood from y/n’s skin. He had intentionally taken longer than was necessary because he recalled how the doctor mentioned a cold compress could help ease the inflammation and therefore hopefully the itching. It was only once Freddy had felt the cloth reach room temperature that he fully removed it from her skin.

When he heard y/n sigh quietly in slight disappointment, Freddy realized instead of ending the round of treatment, he should step up his game. As such, he held onto Y/N’s hands as they remained on his shoulders and lowered them to his chest as he stood. “Darling,” Freddy spoke softly before he kissed her forehead. “I’m going to draw you a cold bath, we’ll give that a try”.

Unfortunately, this went on for quite some time. But, Freddy never gave up on his efforts to ease y/n’s misery. And, no matter how bad it got, y/n was never able to feel truly desolate because she knew her husband would do whatever he could to help her. Eventually, things resolved and Freddy attested that he was going to be sure to remind her to pack & use bug spray for all of her travels even if he wasn’t there to apply it to her skin himself.

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GUYS HOLY SHIT I WAS ABLE TO STRETCH AND CRACK MY BACK TODAY

you have no idea how exciting that is, I haven't been able to do that in WEEKS. my bruised ribs are finally healing!!!!!!! i've had three straight days of getting out of bed in the morning without horrific groans of agony!!! yesterday i woke up and found that i'd actually ROLLED OVER in my sleep!! I'm usually a super restless sleeper but ever since i bruised my damn ribs, I've been waking up exactly how I fell asleep, bcause moving while laying down hurt my ribs so badly that even my sleeping brain wouldn't do it. BUT NOW I CAN!!!!!

I actually had a hard time keeping track of my advil doses today. My ribs used to be able to tell time, I could tell exactly when it'd been four hours since my last dose bcause the pain would start getting way worse, but now it's just a dull ache when the advil wears off!!!!

Bruised ribs suck, I hated that so much, AND IT'S FINALLY GOING AWAY!!!!

I don't even need to brace the injured part of my ribcage to get through a coughing fit anymore, this is amazing. I don't have to conciously force myself to take full breaths, I can just do it automatically again. Life is so beautiful.