#well. I still have a couple more teeth to fix. then I need to buy a tablet before my laptop completely dies

[blackmetalsnake]

Me: *Have been stressed for the last few days because of a toothache, visit to the dentist (I have a big phobia of dentists) and a tooth removal*

My brain: Ooh, I feel so bad, do something about it. What do you mean you can't eat sweets now? You won’t even have onigiri or pizza? Too bad. Then jerk off, now you will get aroused from literally everything again. I need relief!

[reminiscingtonight]

Tech Support

Alexia Putellas & Putellas!Reader (Jana Fernández x Putellas!Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

“So I am… supposed to click this?”

Alexia’s hand is swatted away at record speed before she can make contact with the screen.

“No, this one.”

Who would’ve thought. Captain of the country. Legend of your club. The La Reina may be feared by players worldwide, but even she could be beaten by something as simple as a new phone.

The two of you have been at this for a couple hours now.

When your sister first slid the box across the table at you, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You didn’t even have time to thank Alexia before she crushed your dreams right then and there. What you first thought was a present for you turned out to be a resigned plea for help.

As the resident tech genius you were high in demand. Last week it was setting up your mami’s tablet. Yesterday it was fixing Olga’s laptop. And today it seems to be Alexia’s turn.

Though now that you think about it, “genius” may be a stretch. It’s not until the third time you stop yourself from throwing Alexia’s phone at her that she lets it slip that Alba was actually her first call for help. It’s no surprise to hear that your middle sister was quick to refuse, given that the last time she helped Alexia set up a phone resulted in heated words and staunch refusal to speak to one another for two weeks.

Given that she’s your club captain the loss in communication is something you can’t risk, but you’ve always thought of yourself as gifted when it comes to technology. If you could teach your mami how to use facebook without spamming her personal page with posts about you and your sisters, surely helping Alexia transfer her data and set up a new phone would not be too hard of a challenge.

Oh how you’re wrong.

Though you’re only eight years younger than Alexia, she still manages to struggle as if she’s well into her nineties.

Ask if she’s backed up her data? Might as well have told her to recite the first fifteen digits of pi.

Ask if she’s taken note of the apps she needs to redownload? Might as well have asked if she knew the secret to happiness.

Tell her to grant certain apps permissions to her phone? Might as well have told her you were transferring to Real Madrid.

Ask her to re-sign back into her multitude of accounts? Might as well have asked her to transfer to Real Madrid.

If you had known just how teeth pulling this would be, you would have left Olga to deal with Alexia herself.

Despite your clear and well-informed instructions of what to click where, which settings to enable or disable, Alexia kept bulldozing through your words, thinking she knew better.

Spoiler, she did not.

Jana’s already been by to give you some words of encouragement, but after the fifth time you quietly asked if she could make up an excuse to drag you out, she hunkered down on a nearby couch with Olga. The two of them, traitors at heart, are having a blast watching some trashy reality tv show while you struggle away with Alexia.

At this point you’re one more question away from factory resetting Alexia’s new phone, but a promise from Olga to buy you lunch and a burning desire to prove to Alba that you’re a better teacher than she is leaves you clinging to the last piece of sanity you have.

After what seems like an eternity, Alexia finally sits back from where she’s been hunched over your shoulder, poking and prodding at her phone.

“I still don’t understand why I have to set up a passcode when I could just use my fingerprint to unlock everything.”

The only word capable of describing Alexia at this moment in time is brooding. Arms crossed, face drawn in a frown, your thirty-year-old sister is brooding over your insistence at setting a passcode.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What if you’re at training and you need Mapi to pull up something from your phone while your hands are busy?”

Alexia huffs, smile on her face as she thinks she’s got you. “Simple, I would never trust Maria with my phone!”

“Ale!” you groan. “That’s not the point.”

She’s not wrong. The last person to mistakenly trust the blonde haired woman with their unlocked phone received the device back with fifteen added stories to their instagram account. Though that was on the tamer side of what the defender was capable of, no one’s really let her borrow their phone since.

You catch Jana’s twinkling eyes over the back of the couch as she shares a giggle with Olga.

“Okay, what if I get hurt on the pitch and you’re too busy consoling me? I’m sure Jana would appreciate being able to use your phone to call mami to let her know I’ve been hurt.”

Alexia rolls her eyes. “First, Jana already has mami’s phone number. Pretty sure she likes your girlfriend more than the both of us.”

The number of times Eli has called you just to ask if Jana would be coming over for a family dinner would be insulting if you weren’t smitten with the idea of your girlfriend having fit right into your own family. Though the two of you haven’t officially been together long, years of friendship meant Eli was more than delighted when she found out the two of you were together. It also meant she was quick to catch Jana up on any and all family events she was hosting.

“Also, that’s not a problem because mami never misses one of our games so she’d already be there!”

It’s almost as if Olga can see the steam coming out of your ears. She’s quick to walk over, rubbing you back apologetically before throwing an arm around Alexia’s shoulder.

“Would you please set one for me, amor? Sometimes I misplace my phone and yours is closer.”

It’s maddening the way Alexia instantly starts nodding like a lovesick puppy. She plucks the phone right out of your hands, swiping until she can get to the right screen.

From over Alexia’s shoulder Olga gives you a wink.

With her girlfriend wrapped tightly around her, you take your cue to exit.

Jana opens her arms wide and you enter willingly. The older girl chuckles when you instantly bury your face against her stomach, arms tightening around her legs.

“I wanna go home,” you grumble, ignoring the way you can feel the vibrations of Jana’s laughter.

“Don’t you wanna stay for lunch?”

As much as you loathe the hours wasted on Alexia, the promise of free sushi did sound pretty good. All you have in your fridge is some leftover pasta from the night before, and you’re never one to pass up free food.

“Hermanita, what’s this I’m seeing about unlocking my phone with my face?”

You stiffen.

On second thought, leftovers didn’t sound too bad.

[naamahdarling]

Edit: Thank you all so, so much. I am incredibly moved and incredibly grateful for everything you all have done. Donations, signal boosts, kind words. We can cover their food for at least one month. Anything sent from here out is most welcome and will go towards their needs, but the food crisis is past for now!

The extra will be held until Raleigh sees the specialist on the 11th and either put towards vet bills or used to get him more of his stinky wet food.

----

Guys, we REALLY need help paying for cat food. This is not normally an issue, they come first, but a lot of bad shit happened this month and it has literally taken everything we had. I have tried my hardest to stretch their food to the end of the month but the boys, all three, are out of scrip food TOMORROW.

I'm so sorry. I don't want to be doing this.

It isn't helped by the fact that their food has shot up in price so much I can't believe it.

Please if you can help we would be so grateful. Just five bucks. My boyfriend's PayPal is theothershea@gmail.com.

We need a total refill on Dried Pickle Man/Sid tummy care kibble, and hopefully a month of wet food for Raleigh, which is around $300 for it all. That sadly isn't an error. That isn't even touching the cost of their vet plans and vet debt, which are another $300, and we are behind by about $100 on the vet plans. But all we really need is most of that $300 for food.

The boys can't be off their scrip food. Sid becomes violently ill (I had to buy hospital biohazard spill absorber for when he throws up) with even a little regular food, and Dried Pickle Man eats the same food he does. For Raleigh, well, he's dying. He needs to be kept comfortable for what time he has left and without this food he develops extremely painful and very dangerous urinary crystals very fast and without wet food he can't eat without severe pain in his mouth. We are trying to fix his teeth but need clearance from a specialist which we cannot get until July. He has already been off his scrip food for a couple of days.

We have gotten along this far via Patreon every month, which pays for a lot of the cat stuff, but PayPal and Patreon are holding over $700 of our money due to some sort of technical issue and I don't know when that can be resolved. Without it, we will have nothing in either bank account by the end of the month. Like. Nothing.

We need help. Badly.

Again, my boyfriend's PayPal is theothershea@gmail.com.

All money will go to him to get food for the cats and pay for their monthly plans and medical debt.

This is Raleigh, who will take your fingers and kiss them if you hold your hand out. Please at least help us get wet food for him so he can eat without pain while he is still here to hold my hand.

(If Raleigh does pass before his food runs out, we can easily return the remaining cans and put that money toward the cost of the euthanasia.)

(Reference, reference. These foods cost the same everywhere I can find, and have gone up in price a lot because greedflation, which is a big part of why paying is suddenly more of an issue.)

[irenadel]

And if the devil...... 7/10

TW: Blood, domestic violence, talk of SA, miscarriages (this is HotD after all) This chapter is short on Aemond but I promise he'll be back on his bullshit next chapter. Also it turns out I am an absolute idiot and erased this chapter so here I am publishing again. Once more beautiful banner courtsey of @barbieaemond's gorgeous gifs and we have now ten chapters instead of 9

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

The moment he sees you, bag in one hand, jaw clenched so tight your teeth hurt, your uncle orders you close to his chair. He can move, but not well and will not risk it for the likes of you. He demands the truth, and slaps you when you dare withhold it from him. It isn’t a particularly good slap, but nothing ever erases the sting of humiliation. When he rails and grabs for your wrist, twisting it painfully in his slack grip, you still refuse to answer. Your eyes fixed back on the floor, your back having lost its rigid posture. You don’t look stubborn. Just defeated. He does not insist.

Your cousin Angus is white as a sheet, home for a brief holiday, wondering if he’ll be able to go back to his apprenticeship after this is done. The little ones are hushed up by their mother and you sit at the table, eating nothing, feeling nauseous with anger and dread.

Your aunt does not shout, does not ask what happened. She waits for a quiet, private moment. Looks at you with a tired, pinched face and says, “Did you get a recommendation?”

You do not answer this either. You look away, too ashamed and heartbroken to face her.

“I’ll earn the coin somehow,” you promise, cold dread already spreading through your limbs, fear so terrible that your heart seems to have caught in your throat and you are choking on the stupid, wretched thing. “Don’t fret.”

And for a time you keep your word.

It’s grueling work. A miserly merchant’s house that you take on, because a noble house would have required the letter of recommendation you had refused with your fist and your spit on the prince’s face. The sort of merchant who hires only a couple of girls and expects his wife to direct it all, no steward to be had and enough work for a staff of thrice that number. But that is also the kind of merchant who will not care if you worked at the Red Keep or not. It is the butcher’s on rest days, in spite of the neighbors talking about hours sacred to the Seven, and laundry taken in at night because you still can’t manage sewing.

Even then it’s just barely enough.

Your aunt suggests the butcher, over sixty and with bad gout and a house full of children might need a strong, young wife he would pay a good bride price for. It would be enough to pay for Angus’ apprenticeship. You would have a place near them, an allowance of your own and less work. You had done enough, she told you. You deserved some rest from all this toil.

She could not know how you recoiled inwardly at this thought. She could not know that when there had been no laundry to take in, and the miser’s wife had been particularly scathing with you and you were feeling desperate enough to do anything, if only you could ensure there would be enough of everything for your family tomorrow and the day after and all the days after… only then had you considered going to find a man who would buy the only thing of value you possessed.

But you couldn’t. Not now. Not ever again. Thrice had been thrice too many times. And you had known without a shadow of a doubt that if you had to touch a man you did not want, after knowing the taste of flesh, love and blood of the dragon… then you would begin to scream and never stop again, until you had driven the whole world mad with you.

Not even for a butcher and a fat bride price.

You are half thankful you are too miserable and tired to eat much and try not to miss the room and board you got at the Red Keep. All you want to do is sleep and forget. Instead you are awake at dawn, haggard and full of worries. It would be easier to endure misery again if only you could forget happiness. You turn away from talk of the castle. You cannot bear the sight of babes in arms, thinking that the princess’ time will come and go and there is nothing you can do to help her.

At night you go to bed so exhausted you do not dream. When you see his face before you, twisted in a grimace of hatred, you are always wide awake and scrubbing floors, bent down over bread or under buckets of water or heavy gaudy furniture. You wash other people’s filth so hard your hands bleed because all you want to do is work and work and work… work until you are too tired to remember Prince Aemond’s beautiful, wounded expression.

You hadn’t wanted to hurt him further then, but had had no words of comfort for him. No words to explain the ways of the world to a prince, born over gold and silver and dragon eggs, who looked at you as furious as he was heartbroken.

“Aegon is less than a worm,” he had hissed in defeat. “You could’ve broken every bone in his body before you let him touch you.”

You had not known who the anger in his face had been for. You or his brother or himself.

You do your best not to think of him. Even when food tastes like ashes in your mouth and you cannot even be bothered with anger and shame of your own when your uncle throws a laden plate at you, reminding you he is tired of dumplings and turnips, and it is all your fault for managing to ruin the one good chance you had ever known in your life. If you had had any tears left in you, you would have wept until your throat bled. But Princess Helaena had been right. A dragon’s love leaves nothing but devastation in its wake.

Your aunt watches you like a hawk. You can feel her worried eyes drilling a hole in the back of your neck. You avoid her as best as you can but even toil relents after months of careful vigilance. She catches you at night when you are boiling white shirts and scrubbing small clothes by the light of the sputtering, old castle lamp. No one else is awake at this time and you know she has sought you out to give you your privacy. She has always been kind like that, for the small things if not for the big ones.

You are prepared to fend her off, claim you are too tired to talk, but her question catches you off guard.

“Whose is it? That lad who didn’t marry you?”

It takes you a moment to understand it fully. You gape at her and immediately prepare to deny it but the words die on your lips. The truth is you don’t know. Hadn’t even thought of the possibility. Had been too miserable and heartsick to realize it had been over two months since…

Your aunt takes the lamp off its perch and gives you a handful of seed wheat and tells you to go plant it in the yard and piss on it. Better to be sure, she had said. You could not know that Dothraki women had done the same thing for centuries. You had not known any Dothraki women. Just her. Just the woman who had never been a mother to you but always there at least. Even now.

Even when you know, a week after, from the first little seedlings sprouting. Even when you throw up what little food you have managed to eat and sit with her, at night again, too stunned to think, too scared to move.

All you can hear is Aemond’s recriminations. That he should have known from the start the snake he had allowed in his bed. Fool. Thrice damned fool. Blinder than a man with both his eyes gouged out. Telling you, you were to be banished from his and the princess’ presence lest your lechery infect her and everything around her too. You would have begged in that moment. You would have fallen on your knees and tried to explain the world you inhabited, the one where you do not dare say no to princes, even when you know full well you could break their noses.

But you hadn’t been able to look at Aemond Targaryen and lie to him. You had no words to tell him the truth you lived. You couldn’t tell him you had not wanted his brother, or how hard you had tried to keep wanting him even after he spoke to you, if only for a second, before you realized the futility of it. Before you had realized how drunk he was and that only jesting boldness could have ever brought about his interest in you. Because he was beautiful too. A king’s son too. No lice. All his teeth. Hands soft as silk. And he wanted you when no one did. Wanted you before Aemond or Helaena had deigned to notice you existed at all. When all you knew was the small, meanness of the world and endless work without thanks.

But then he had spoken and you had felt your heart die. Because they all had to speak in the end. Prince Aegon and the rancid sea captain and that one drunk, old lecher who had backhanded you and almost refused to pay, when you had been only fifteen and desperate to get your family the things they needed from you. It was as if they could not help but ruin your simple, pitiful illusion that this was anything but animal filth. The knowledge that you had carried every day of your life after you had left the Dothraki Sea: that a man would sooner piss on you than fuck you.

And then you had wanted to rip that silver hair off his head, his eyes from their sockets, knock in each one of his perfect teeth. Because he hadn’t even dignified you with desire. None of them ever did. And you had shredded your nails to pieces against the stone floor, willing it to be over soon, willing yourself not to enjoy it, because it had been so long since someone, anyone, had touched you.

And then Aemond had come into your life and changed it all. With his daggers and his insane, impossible demands. Blood and desire mixed inextricably together for the both of you, so much that love would forever more taste of copper to your tongue. Because that had been his gift to you. Leave to lay hands on him as easily as men had ever laid hands on you. You had used it then, one last time, when he had said, venom overflowing his lips, that he should have known your falseness when you had been kind to Helaena.

And that had been the end of it. You swinging at Prince Aemond one last time. Spitting on his face after splitting his lip open, because there was no more love for you on his sharp, cruel mouth. And because you had had nothing to lose, no further thing to be taken from you, you had said to him you would rather walk the rest of your days, like the old and infirm of a khalasar, before you ever laid eyes on him again.

And Aemond, fierce Valyrian purple eye fixed on both your red ones, looking more regal and perfect than any man with a bleeding mouth had the right to, had cursed you in a single breath, “That is exactly what you’ll do.”

You had left with nothing because you had wanted nothing of him, or his blood. You had refused to look for the steward or Princess Helaena or the queen. And now here you were, staring at your aunt, feeling sick again, with your heart torn from your breast and a belly full of prince.

Your aunt holds you, even when you still cannot find your tears. All you can think of is that the gods had known. From Stranger to Mother of Mountains, to the gods of Old Valyria you had once known the names of because Aemond had taught them to you. The gods had known who you were, stupid, eager girl. Because when you had laid with Prince Aegon you had washed his seed out of you as quick as you could and used honey and prayed. There had been no money for moontea and the terror that you might lose your position had been too great to ask anyone for help. So you had prayed to any god who would listen to you until your blood had come but now… You hadn’t prayed hard or often enough for Aemond. The gods could tell what you had truly wanted.

So when your aunt, face as pale and frightened as yours, had suggested you could go to the Street of Silk to find a way to flush this problem out, or you could marry the butcher, quickly enough that he would not suspect the babe to not be his, you had pushed her away so fast she had nearly fallen and you had stood straight as a spear to tell her you would not.

“He is Blood of the Dragon.”

And your aunt had looked as broken and defeated as you knew you should’ve felt. Had been too horrified by the certainty and conviction in your face to notice your cousin Angus, lumbering as he was, trying to wedge his ungainly big-boned frame closer to the staircase so he could hear you both and remain unseen. Home and awake at this hour because you had finally been unable to continue paying his master.

“The… king?” Your aunt had guessed breathlessly, not knowing the blow she had dealt you when doubting, quite naturally, that you could have caught the eye of a prince. Let alone two. You do not think about it. Refuse to linger on Prince Aegon when you know you carry a babe in your belly.

Your babe. 

You do not know what you are thinking, merely shake your head in denial and murmur furtively,

“The prince. Aemond One-Eye.”

And you do not blame your aunt that her knees buckle under her and she sits down, her hand on her mouth holding in her fear. She knows next to nothing of the royal family, except what little she has pried from you. But this she knows.

She looks at you in something close to awe. Her savage girl. The one born of horses and spite.

“Gods save us all.”

And that was exactly what she had screamed, when your uncle had hauled you out of bed in the morning, after she had let you sleep in while she made breakfast alone, having begged you already to reconsider dignity and heartbreak, to go back to the Red Keep and inform someone, anyone, of the danger you carried in your belly. Because a royal bastard, no matter the mud on its mother’s feet, was an entirely different beast.

But there had been no time. No accounting for her husband’s newfound strength, aided by Angus on his bad side, as shocked and horrified as any of them, but still unable to let his old father falter, as he dragged you out of bed and house.

“I’ll not have you in my home,” he had panted, hard at work dragging you behind him, tripping on his own weak leg, his useless arm all but forgotten in his scorn. “I’ll not have a harlot carrying on like this! With my daughters here!”

You can hear Bree and Delma comforting the younger ones. You can hear your aunt crying and begging and doing nothing. You catch a glimpse of Angus’ stricken face, sick with shock, but still holding up his father’s mangled body.

Always there, never a part of them, you had told Prince Aemond. And he had known exactly what you meant. Had devoured your lips with hunger and urgency and kissed your hands, angry thoughts full of Luke and Jace, Baela and Rhaena.

The worst part. The hardest to swallow. The most painful thought. That you loved them, all of them, sleepless nights and resentment and enduring silence… but still you had loved them.

And there might have been some love left for you in your uncle’s rage. It was the hidden truth behind every man who had ever called a woman he loved a whore. There might have been tears still left in him for the little orphan child he had taken in, his sister’s wild girl, a little ghost of a thing he had sent to work for strangers and been unable to protect.

But it was not enough. It had not been enough for Aemond to hear whatever words you had been unable to speak to him. And it was not enough to stop your uncle, exhausted from the effort of dragging his strong, young niece out the house, and unable to haul you further. It wasn’t enough to stop him from feeling the shame of his aching and weakened body, and of taking that shame out on you, one gnarled hand with a handful of your hair, finding no strength to keep moving, but finding enough anger to slam your face against the door frame again and again and again.

And you would have let him. If you had been nought but the resigned, lonely girl Prince Aegon had shoved against the stone floor, then you would have closed your eyes and prayed it would be over soon.

But you weren’t that anymore and it had been foolish to think you ever would be again. You had tasted fire from Aemond One-Eye’s lips. You had tasted steel and sulfur and hatred. And you had tasted love. You were growing a dragon inside you and you would broker no disrespect for him or yourself.

It’s one swift motion, one even a prince could be proud of. Your right hand grabbing a hold of your uncle’s left and your left using your momentum to swing. You hear a sickening crunch and feel something breaking under your knuckles. Good. You almost don’t feel sorry.

Your aunt and cousins are sobbing and you can barely see through the film of blood seeping from your forehead and the ringing of your abused ear. You want to spit on the floor of this place you had thought a home. You want to say something proud like your father would have, something fierce and scornful like Aemond.

You don’t get the chance.

Angus is a big lad now, a big hurt lad, who had never understood you but had always looked up to you. You don’t want to blame him for knocking you into the floor with the awkward, hulking launch of his body for your midsection.

He’s only a boy. Your boy. Whose hurts you have patched. Whose food you have paid for, in tears and sweat and hate. He’s only a boy defending his father… but you can’t afford pity today. Today your coin’s all spent.

You knee him in the groin, and he does not laugh like Aemond. There are tears of pain and humiliation at the corners of his eyes. A penniless boy’s dignity much dearer to him than to a prince. And you don’t flee him as you had fled Aemond, a lifetime ago, because you know, instinctively, the danger of pursuit. You climb on top of him and grab a hold of his head, hitting it once, twice for good measure, so he will know to stay down.

He does not. For a second you are proud.

Then you feel his fist knock the air out of you, but you do not falter. You do not back down. You find his nose with your left hand because you do not trust your exhausted sight, and ram the heel of your right between his eyes, breaking one more thing in this house before you leave it forever.

Angus does not try to hit you again, just lays on the floor, clutching his face, moaning in pain. You grab a handful of his hair so you can haul him up to you, so he can hear you. Shout it so the rest can hear it too.

“I am fucking done with all of you!”

You don’t want to look at your aunt. You don’t want to try to discern her expression behind the veil of sweat and tears and hate. But your eyes are as treacherous as they are dead and you seek her out anyway. You do not know if it is rage or hurt or grief on her, but you know something is wrong.

She is crying, unmoving but crying, her older girls in her arms are looking at you with something close to horror. And through your pain and nausea and heartbreak you can hear her say it again.

“Gods save us all.”

When you look down at where she’s looking, you see your skirts blooming red with blood.

[madisonmontgomeryimagines]

brooke + a reader who’s more extroverted and openly affectionate? ^^

Initially, you had been a little worried that you'd overwhelm her, the much more reserved girl always polite when you exchanged a few words on her way into the library. While you wouldn't consider yourself rowdy, you couldn't deny that you flourished when you were around other people. You didn't know enough about the other girl to say that she was the opposite, but you worked at the library often enough to notice that Brooke generally kept to herself unless she needed help.

There was nothing wrong with that, it was meant to be a quiet and peaceful environment, but it would be a lie to say that boredom never snuck up on you and made you ache for companionship. Brooke had taken to spending hours at a time in the library anyway, it just made sense to be friendly, but you didn't want to push anything and seem weird.

A shrill shriek made you jump harder than the loud snarl of thunder did, cast into darkness by the storm. Despite yourself, you heaved an inward groan at the thought of fighting with the backup generator, and suddenly going to make sure no one was being murdered was almost appealing. Almost.

The streetlights outside were dark too, not leaving you much optimism for a speedy fix. "Hello? Is everyone okay?" You called out, fingers trailing the wall as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. You could make out a couple flashlight beams - an elderly woman using her phone to illuminate the crossword puzzle she was working away at and one of the local students making a hasty exit through the glass doors.

"Sorry," Brooke's mumble came from one of the aisles to your right, and if you stared hard enough into the shadows you could make out her frame. "I thought I saw something, trick of the lightning."

"It's okay, as long as you're not hurt or anything?" You dug around the re-shelving cart for the flashlight someone insisted on keeping there, carefully guiding the beam towards your companion while trying not to blind her.

"No, just mortified." Brooke offered a wry smile, looking very much like she'd like the ground to open up and swallow her.

"Well, I should have the lights back on in no time, but if you want to head home before the storm gets worse I can wait for your ride with you."

"No," she answered too quickly, silent steps closing the distance between the two of you. "If the power is coming back on, I still have some stuff I need to find."

"Fair enough. Give me a little bit to get it set up."

With that, you'd made your way to the door that descended to the basement, not even realizing your companion had followed you until you were already squeezing between boxes of stored books and documents to get to the beast you needed to appease. A coworker had tried to explain it once, what actually happened when you reset the generator and brought it back on, but you didn't really feel confident enough in your understanding of electricity and motors to say you understood it beyond memorizing the ritual to make it turn on.

Brooke took the flashlight gently from your grasp before you could ask her to hold it, a measure of curiosity in her gaze as she illuminated your work station.

"Thanks," you flashed her a grin, "really didn't want to have to hold it in my teeth." You were only half joking, but it was enough to earn a chuckle from her anyway.

"Does this always happen when it storms?"

"Just about," you lifted a shoulder. "The wiring is all fucked up and around here the power nearly goes out if the breeze is too strong." When you heard the great beast hum to life, you wiped your hands on your pants and stepped back, taking the flashlight back, fingers lingering when they brushed hers. "Once it gets up and running the lights will be back. Maybe I can help you find what you're looking for."

"I'd appreciate it." Her smile made your bones weak and turned your thoughts to quick glimpses of desire to spend time with her outside of work - buying her a coffee, grabbing lunch together, cooking her dinner.

Embarrassed at how smitten you were, you could only nod as you led her carefully back to the stairs, grabbing her hand gently without thinking about it as you weaved through the piles of boxes again. Above you, the lights buzzed quietly with grumblings as they glowed to life again. Without releasing your hand, Brooke gravitated to the same aisle you had found her in, leading you away to a space that almost felt tight enough to be intimate.

Finding the book that she wanted seemed rather determined to make itself a challenge for you. It hadn't been on the shelves, or in the piles at the desk, or on the carts. You knew the library had it, you could even see the title in your own handwriting in one of the inventory logs, and the last time it had been checked out was almost a year and a half ago.

"It's okay, I can try and dig around online for a copy somewhere." Brooke clearly felt guilty that her request for help was now approaching a half hour long search without results.

"Let me check one last place," you pleaded quickly, enjoying her company and not wanting to face the misery of working alone. Again you went down into the basement. The piles of boxes were helpful landmarks now, the closer they were to the back wall where the generator was, the longer they had been down there. As the person who got saddled with the unlucky job of bringing the boxes down here, you were confident in saying that only three or four boxes of nonfiction reference books came down in the time since the book Brooke wanted had last left your doors.

She sat on one of the bottom stairs as you shifted through different sizes and titles, and when you peeked at her from the corner of your eye, the smile playing on her lips threatened to make you search every last box. Mercifully, your quarry was in the second one you checked, a triumphant sound slipping from your lips as you lifted the book out of the box and extended it towards Brooke.

"You're incredible," she was on her feet in an instant, dark eyes greedily scanning the pages she was flipping through.

It felt like you were walking on air as you followed her back upstairs and urged yourself back to your nightly duties so you could close up soon. "I'll wait for you and we can leave together," she had told you in her soft voice when your paths crossed as you headed to the computer room.

You felt ready to burst out of your skin when you were finally released from the jaws of responsibility as the hour turned over and you could lock the doors with yourself outside of them.

"Let me thank you with dinner." Brooke suggested when your hand again reached for hers before you could think better of it.

"I won't complain," your voice was playful, smile audible as you pressed a kiss to her cheek.

[victorluvsalice]

-->And it’s a good thing I did, because when I arrived at the park, I realized, “wow, this place is pretty shit.” Like, I was prepared to buy some stuff to make the weenie roast successful (like a campfire), but there is NOT a lot to this park at all. It’s kind of sad. I mean, I know the pier's not far from the lot, but still. :(

-->But it wasn’t my goal to fix the entire park today – it was my goal to set up a weenie roast! To that end, I went ahead and set up one corner of the lot as a sort of impromptu campsite – we had a campfire surrounded by fun and colorful camp chairs; a BBQ and a couple of picnic tables; a horseshoes pit; and a telescope! Plus I went ahead and slapped on the “Sunny Aspect,” “Convivial,” and “Party Place” lot traits, to help out more. :p Right after that, though, I realized “oh shit, Smiler should have brought their guitar!” and wondered if I could head back to the house to grab it –

Nope. Right after I got out of build mode, I got the pop-up asking if I wanted to start the event. 21 Sim-minutes late. *rolls eyes* Weenie Roasts, man...but I said yes and then just popped back into Build/Buy to get a public-use guitar (and a cooler, since the game said I needed one). Sorry Smiler – I’ll try to remember to put it in your inventory the next time you guys use the old campfire!

-->With the venue set up and the guests arriving (I was a little worried they weren’t, but eventually found them walking in from the far side of the lot – Sara never showed up, admittedly, but we got Cletus, Aleah, and Knox!), I had Victor fulfill his Grill Master duties by making some mushroom steaks while Smiler and Alice sat around the freshly-lit campfire roasting marshmallows (aka one of the few bits of Sim food that “doesn’t count” when it comes to Smiler’s “Withered Stomach” weakness). Once Victor was done with his steaks, I directed him to go and roast a hot dog over the fire with Alice while Smiler encouraged their guests to hang out with them. Everything seemed to be going okay for a second –

-->Aaaand then everyone glitched out and popped out of their seats. *gritted teeth* Weenie Roasts, man... I persevered, though, and got everyone back around the campfire to hang out and add logs –

And that’s when teenage spellcaster Teulia appeared right over the campfire on her broomstick, landed, and spontaneously joined the party. O.o She didn’t interact with the others much, and ended up leaving well before the end, but – still. *shrug* Weenie Roasts, man?

-->Never mind – I was a WOMAN on a MISSION by this point, and that mission was to COMPLETE A WEENIE ROAST, DAMN IT. So as Aleah wandered off to the barbecue to start making herbal concoctions, I had Victor and Alice try roasting hot dogs again while Smiler chatted a bit with the others and played with the fire. I waited with bated breath to see if the pair would be successful –

And they were! :D Both successfully created hot dogs, meaning two out of three weenies had been roasted for the main goal. Pleased, I had Victor go and get some juice to start working on the “get drinks out of the cooler” goal, then had him and Alice go hit the toilets while Smiler chatted with Cletus (learning officially the guy is a Slob) –

[slacktivist]

Richard Dawkins really misunderstood empiricism as meaning:

Cognition = Valid

Stimuli = Thereness

It was taught to me in my Indigenous culture, in my upbringing, through song, art, story and my ancestral lineage: the world remains, and that we are fleeting.

Since our cognition, there has been the earth. We have told each other for thousands of years, that the stars and celestial objects have been there, they have moved, waned, twinkled, and eclipsed. The sustainability of these things over time gave us routine: Day / Night, Full Moon / New Moon. It keeps us alive and feeds us, and the International Space Station.

For generations of children, our community and family elders have reiterated for us to keep an eye on the earth. Granted, schools and media tell me to do this as well, but for incredibly different reasons. I clearly couldn't care less about white picket fence and mortgage, because my parents were fed the exact same lies that the bureaucratic and capitalistic structure fed us all. But I do it anyway, I went to school, uni, I'm even doing my postgraduate studies and working full time. I'm finally making money, finally get to buy whatever I want. I'm 25 and I should feel sorted, because I have more material wealth than I ever did growing up.

But why do I still feel the way that I do? Surely I was the perfect colonial subject. I hated being brown so badly and all I wanted was to be white. I refused to be in the sun, and obviously that made my mental situation worse. Do not recommend. Vit D is good, (always use SPF though). For 15 years now I have been writing about how the education system did nothing for me, and yet I am working in it today? Like why lol. Just leave?

Lo and behold, the songs we sang, the stories we are told. The information is contradictory to what I was made to sit through as a child. In a hideous school uniform.

Today, I'm being exploited because it's the exact same system. My supposed leaders pay me to make their place more welcoming and open to other brown people. But they have no idea that what they've asked me to do, means I need to change what they find comfortable, because they are comfortable with being exclusionary.

I refuse to do mundane jobs for money just to buy a couple things. So I've never worked to my job description ever. I do what I think and what I know is right, even if it's above my pay grade. Almost opening myself up to be exploited. I don't recommend this to anybody, because it is death by a thousand cuts. But I dream about dying anyway, so I think that for me at least, it's okay? Maybe? I really only enjoy stickers and like... cute clothes and books? I'm not out here travelling, never left the south pacific. Ive never owned a car, probably never going to have a house, can't afford a passport, or to get my teeth fixed. But i like my job and they give me a flash computer with access to lots of data to play with. That's the only enjoyable part.

Everything goes downhill the moment I need to be on the work site. All I've ever known is resisting against a culture that feels so wrong to me, thats individualistic and based on profit over people. But I honestly feel myself getting older by the day, resisting is energy expenditure. I skipped my 20s. I'm 25 Gregorian-wise, but I feel like my body ages way quicker than it is supposed to. Just feeling burnt out and chewed up and then spat out. Just feeling like life would be longer and more enjoyable for me if I learnt and questioned less. If I could just settle to the rules and say yes to everything. I wish I was oblivious to the exploitation, but it really do be hurting my spirit.

[lizhrs]

might seduce your dad type -

warnings: smut/nsfw, cunnilingus, slight dacryphilia, fingering, choking, degradation/dirty talk, breeding kink, toxic relationship, angst

summary: sick of toji acting as if you don’t exist, you travel back to your hometown to give him a piece of your mind. it doesn’t go well. (wc: 3844)

"it really isn't a big..." you trail off, leaning your head back on the sofa.

you try and keep your tone steady, nonchalantly staring at your bloodied finger. it's just a tiny cut that can be fixed with some paper and water but megumi is acting as if you cut a giant gash through your palm. he frantically puts his sweater on, shaking his head as he grabs his keys. "it's fine, i was just going to buy some ice for the party tonight. i'll grab the bandaids on the way."

"party?"

"why else would i come back home for spring break if it wasn't to throw raves?" he mutters as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"i don't know...to spend time with family?" you bite on your bottom lip.

"you're not spreading it with family."

"yeah, but—" you cut yourself off, what do you even say to that? the reason you decided to not go home for break after months of not seeing your family was because you wanted to talk to his jerk of a father after he ghosted you? it's certainly a great way to lose a friend, if anything. "isn't your father coming?"

you two arrived to his place yesterday night and so far, no sign of him. megumi shakes his head, "he's probably lounging at some bar, who cares?" he groans. "i'll be back soon, don't injure yourself even more." he chuckles before stepping out.

you finally allow yourself to let out a frustrated groan as you throw your body on the sofa. you did not travel over a thousand miles to not even talk to him once. you let a couple minutes pass before getting up and walking towards the kitchen, turning on the faucet and putting your finger under it.

you should feel guilty you traveled with your friend under false pretenses of you simply wanted to spend time with him after weeks of brain crushing exams when in reality, you just wanted to piss off his annoyingly attractive father who you just want to plummet into the ground for being such a dickwad. but, you don't. at least you don't think you do.

you needed to do this. it's been months of being ghosted and you're tired of thinking you did something wrong when you tried so hard to do everything right.

it's not you.

it's him and his inability to commit to anything. and you'll be sure to tell him that when he gets here, you'll give him a piece of your mind and tell him how much of a bastard he is—why he thinks he has the nerve to—

you gasp as you feel something pressing up behind you, more precisely someone's chest. it's definitely not megumi. he would rather die out of embarrassment than feel you up like this. no it's definitely not him. you gulp, trying to settle the hammering of your heart.

"now what are you doing here?" he says right by your ear. his voice sounds soft, almost tender but you know better.

"it's spring break." it's hard to sound like you could care less about the situation right now when you can feel every damn muscle and ab pressing against your body.

"that still doesn't explain why you're here." he then laughs. "did you come just for me?"

you scoff, about to push him off but he only tightens his hold. you were seconds away from elbowing him when he decides to snake his hand up your thigh. of course, you haven't seen each other in months and the first thing he wants to do is act like a damn pervert. you should be pushing him off and you know—giving him a piece of your mind. that's what you came here for but dammit...

it's hard. it's a very hard thing to do when he drags you closer, teeth grazing your neck.

"get off of me." you sigh, voice having absolutely no edge.

"didn't you miss me?"

"i didn't even think you remembered i existed." you mutter bitterly, those words finally creating a bit of anger inside of you. "how could i possibly miss someone who acted as if i was an insignificant little ant?"

he laughs again, more genuine. you fight the blush threatening to come up even though he can't see you. he finds this funny? of course he does. what'd you expect from someone like him? "are you really sad i didn't text you like some lovesick teenager?" he places his hands on your waist, quickly spinning you around so now you’re both face to face.

you refrain from gulping at the sight of him. of course he still looks perfectly handsome. you expected for him to at least look a bit disheveled at seeing you after a while. "it's not just texting." you grit through your teeth. "you're really acting like you didn't booty call me every single night until i left?"

he doesn't even seem like he's listening to you, fingers traveling up to your chin then mouth, pulling your bottom lip down before inserting one finger in. you immediately suckle on them, the shame coursing through you. you guess your body responds to his touches a little too well, even after everything.

"that was months ago. it's not like we were ever together. besides, i didn't want people treating me like some predator. you don't think our age gap is a bit unorthodox?" he could care less about the age difference, it's all over his face.

"we're both legal adults—"

"no, no. suck." he shushes you, his finger back on your tongue. "we both know why you're here, in that pretty little dress so why don't we skip the talking and cut to it?"

you should say no. you had a whole damn speech prepared, one almost guaranteed to make him hurt. you should say no. c'mon, say no. but then he pushes his finger even deeper, almost choking you with the action and fuck, the arousal swirls in your lower region.

"is that a yes?"

you glare at him, fucking asshole. you nod just before he inserts another finger, both traveling deeper until you're gagging, spit gathering in the corner of your lips. "sta—staph!" you push his hand away. "m-megumi might come back any second, just..."

"just what?" he grins. "what do you want?"

"t-take..." your blush intensifies. "take me to the bedroom."

he chuckles, hands quickly going under your legs and picking you up as if your weight means nothing. and to him, it isn't. fuck, has he been working out? how does he look even more ripped? you don't know when you enter the bedroom but you do gasp when he throws you on the bed as if you're nothing and damn, you hate how that turns you on even more.

he yanks your ankle, pulling you down the bed so he can hover over you, lips instantly finding yours. you moan into the kiss without a second thought, fingers going to run through his hair. his tongue is hot, making sure to feel every inch and corner of your mouth before trailing the kisses down to your neck. he has a cheshire like grin on his face as he gets to your chest, not a care in the world as he rips the dress open, the buttons flying around.

you don't have the common sense right now to think about how you'll explain the ripped material to megumi when he gets back. or the love bites toji is sure to leave all over your body. you didn't think this through, too blinded by rage and lust.

you shriek as you feel his tongue lap into your cunt, not sure how the hell he got there so fast. "t-toji..." you whimper, eyes clenching tightly as he presses down on your clit. you can't help but move your hips, trying to get more of his thick tongue inside of you but he grips your legs and that's all the warning you need before stopping.

asshole.

"scream for me, princess. that's all you need to do." he mutters against your flesh, leaving little kisses on it before diving in again. "you taste delightful."

"s-shut up." you grit through your teeth, leaning up and glaring at him. "just shut up and make me feel good.”

"someone's mad." he stands up, hand going to his back pocket and taking out a small bottle of lube. of course he keeps that of all things on him at all times. "you're that hurt i didn't text back?" he snorts. "this is why i like to avoid getting into bed with young women. always so needy."

you bite the inside of your cheek, "i'm not needy." that's the only response you're able to get out without having tears gathering in your eyes.

"oh yes you are, princess." he doesn't give any warning before he's inserting two lubed up fingers into your pussy. you clench the bedsheets, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep any sounds from coming out. he doesn't deserve to hear them.

"you've been needy ever since you came onto my balcony that night, in nothing but that oversized shirt. rambling on about a spider in your room." your walls spasm and tears pinch the corner of your eyes as he crooks his fingers. "a spider...really? that's the best you could come up with?"

"well, it achieved my goal didn't it?" you say through the moans. "had you under me not even ten minutes—ah! later."

"yeah you did, didn't you? you little slut." his other hand goes into his sweatpants and your mouth shamelessly waters at the sight of the veiny cock that slaps against his shirt. "pretending to be this little saint when you're here, begging to get screwed by a man twice your age."

"who says i'm begging?" you roll your eyes. he grabs your leg, pulling it over his shoulder as he leans down. you try and hold his gaze down but it's hard, you wonder how the hell one single look from him can be so intimidating.

"how many cocks have been in this little hole ever since you left?" he asks carelessly, changing the subject as his member aligns with said hole.

you stare at him, not sure which answer is acceptable. would he even care? you doubt it but he's a cocky and possessive man. he could feel absolutely nothing for you and still get jealous if you slept with someone else. that's the sense of entitlement this bastard has. he knows his power and exactly how to use it.

"none of your bu—fuck!" his cock starts to push in, the tightness trying to fight him but that only urges him to push deeper—until he pushes in one swift motion. you're used to him being rough, he's the damn definition of rough but this pace is enough to burn your insides and turn them into nothing. "d-deep, oh fuck. why are you so—" you're cut off by the feeling of his hand around your throat.

his grip is unmercifully tight, the pressure immediately causing you to choke and you would moan if you could because holy fuck— he's so hot. just manhandling you as if you're nothing, just a little cumrag for him to spill into. a fucktoy he can use whenever he wants to. the humiliation burns through cause you know you could care less about the dehumanizing way he treats you—at least in the bedroom. "fuck, y/n i want to hear your screams, not your little whimpering. understood?"

you nod, or at least try to and he takes his head away. you're only allowed a second to cough before he's thrusting in and out again, leaning down to latch at your nipple. you bite your lip, remembering how you 'forgot' to wear a bra this morning. you ignored the blush megumi had once he realized, not having it in you to feel self conscious. only toji was on your mind today. he's always on your mind, even when you don't want him to be. and most times you don't.

"gonna make you cum, then again and again until you're nothing but a sobbing mess." your pussy won't stop spasming around his cock, tears gathering in your lashes as his length travels even deeper. he's so big, you forgot just how big he was.

"w—we can't." you groan, voice croaking. "m-megumi is—" your body jolts as his pace increases, like the sole purpose of tonight is to ruin your insides.

all you could feel in the moment was how perfectly his cock dragged inside of you, how hot your insides felt, how this feeling felt so normal when it came to him. you always wanted this feeling with him. he grips your waist, diving in harder until you're arching off of the bed, head digging into the sheets. "t-oji!" you screech, high pitched and drawled out.

"are you going to cry for me, princess?" he laughs, the sound cutting through the air and making you feel even smaller. "c'mon, i wanna see it. let it out." he presses your forehands together, tongue lolling out to lick your cheeks.

he pulls out and the squelching sound of your cunt is enough to make you cry out before he's thrusting back in again. sweat is beading on your forehead and he grins at the sight, going to lick it and the stretch makes you whine. "t—too much." and yet you know you still crave even more.

but you know you can't have it, at least not tonight. not when megumi could be coming back any second.

"isn't that what you wanted? why you were whining like a little bitch cause i didn't contact you? why you came in this dress i bought you months ago? isn't it?"

you shake your head no and he apparently didn't like that answer as he presses his hand on it, digging your cheeks into the sheets. "don't deny it. we both know you're nothing but a needy whore when it comes to me. it's pathetic really. all those guys on that campus and still crawling back to me?" he scoffs.

that's not true. you want to say it's not but it's pointless, you're practically drooling into his sheets. you scream as his finger goes down to rub against your clit and it only takes a few seconds more before you're coming. your eyes squeeze shut as your legs shake, walls shuddering violently.

he pays no mind to that, hand going to your throat again as he pounds into you. the sounds bouncing off the walls, flesh colliding against flesh and you swear you could come again just at the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. you're going to be absolutely ruined after this round. "toji, h-hurts." you pant because it feels like he's about to tear you apart.

he only grins, "what? want me to stop? slow down?"

you both know you don't want that. he smirks at your silence. "you wanted to be fucked, didn't you? missed the feeling of my hands on you? my hands groping you—" he makes sure to grope your breast into his hands for emphasis, a guttural moan leaves your throat as he presses harshly onto your nipple.

"m-megumi's coming!" you cry out, tears falling down your cheeks. fuck, it's too much. hurts so good you could do this for hours.

he rolls his eyes, "i think we're gonna have to talk about the fact you can't stop mentioning my sons name when we're—"

"shut up!" you glare at the playful smirk on his face. unbelievable.

he only smiles more, but thankfully it doesn't take long for him to come, he makes sure to kiss you as he does. the feeling sloppy, causing spit to dribble down your chin. you grab his cheeks, deepening the kiss until you're all practically engulfing each others tastes. the hot liquid fills you up, over and over again until a drawled out moan escapes your lip which only adds to toji's ego.

you hold him tighter, having missed the way his cum drenched your insides. “you feel that?” his hot breath pants against your ear. “gonna fill you up nice, y/n.”

“fill me up.” you choke out, you wanted it all. you didn’t have to say it, he already knew. you wanted him spilling deep inside of you, breeding you until it was dripping down your thighs.

he buries in deep as he can, smirking like a mad man as you milk his cock, releasing even more in thick hot spurts. he leans his head in the crook of your neck as his cock starts to soften. “fuck.” he pants. “you’re on the pill right?”

“no.” your throat feels incredibly dry. “i came here tonight just to trap you with a pregnancy.” you mutter dully.

“ha-ha.” comes the sarcastic reply.

you can feel the sweat all over your body, it's been so long since you've felt so good. only having your toys to get you through the past few months because as the toji guessed earlier, no you haven't let anyone else touch you like this.

it's stupid. it's not like this is even a proper relationship yet you have a strong desire to be his and only his.

he stands up, licking his lips at your panting body on the bed. he's taking in the work he's done before he grabs your wrist, pulling you up so you're sitting. you wince at the feeling in your lower back. "you're filthy." he whispers. "how'd you allow me to ruin you so much, y/n?" he sounds almost amazed at his own handiwork.

"aren't i ruining you too?" you look at him, nibbling on the inside of your cheek at his heated gaze. "you can pretend you're not affected by any of this but we both know you are." you hate how your voice croaks at that, you can just imagine the bruises from his hands on your throat forming.

"am i now?" he scoffs. "i'm not the bruised and shaking one always coming back to beg for more. you are."

you clench your jaw. asshole. asshole. asshole. "you can always say no yet you always practically dive at the chance to have a taste of me." you force yourself to stand up, hands going up to clench the ripped section of your dress, hiding your breast with it.

"who am i to say no to a beautiful lady?"

"is that supposed to flatter me?" you sigh, irritation showing. "so, is that how you really feel dear old toji? this is just sex? nothing more, nothing less?"

"i never directly said that." he tilts his head but you can see behind the expression on his face, he's playing you. acting as if this actually has a chance to be anything more. but...you know there was something forming a few months ago. more than just nights of passionate fucking.

"you implied it." you clench your hands into fists.

"you're acting as if i forced you into this little arrangement. you seduced me, shamelessly at that knowing how i am yet you expect more?" he huffs carelessly. "that's what i get for getting with someone your age."

you're sick of the age difference he always throws around. you know he just uses it to rile you up but it still irritates you. he says it as if you're not a grown woman in college with soaring grades. you're perfectly capable of making your own decisions, controlling your emotions yet he acts like you're nothing but a deprived little pest.

“don’t pretend like you weren’t acting like some lovey dovey boyfriend wannabe a few months ago, but then everything changed when i asked you to meet some friends. and you ran away, like a coward.”

he rolls his eyes, walking over to his drawer and taking out a cigarette pack with that lighter you got him on some shopping whim. “why would i want to hang out with people decades younger than me?” he cups his hands to the flame, lighting the cig up before putting it to his lips and taking a long drag.

“because they’re my friends! and—”

“and nothing.” he finishes for you. “i don’t want to meet your friends nor do i want to go on dates or have boring friday night dinners with your parents. i don’t need you showing me off.” he exhales, the smoke swirling up in the air.

“i wasn’t trying to show you off! i was trying to—”

“that’s exactly what you were doing.” he leans against the drawer, staring at you like he’s got it all figured out. “always wanting to take selfies together, wanting to post me on your insta feed, staring at me with that damn look in your eyes. it’s obvious what your intention was from the start.”

“you’re that dense you can’t understand those are normal—”

“you wanted to show everyone what you had won. who you were shagging and how lucky you were compared to them. i get it, we all know i’m a hunk but people finding out i’m sleeping with a damn college student is the last thing on my bucket list.”

“you give yourself too much credit.” you take a step back, towards the door. this conversation is going nowhere. you weren’t trying to show him off. you just wanted a normal relationship but you should’ve known it was pointless. albeit, maybe a tiny part of the reason you wanted to sleep with him in the first place was because of his looks. because you knew telling the girls about it would have them envious but you didn’t even spill the details of that night to anyone. you knew it’d only make things awkward with megumi, possibly even ruin the friendship. no, definitely ruin it.

and you wouldn’t be surprised. you’re his best friend yet here you are, covered in hickeys and marks by his own father while he’s out there buying you a bandaid for a cut that’s already dried up. you don’t deserve him.

“do i?” he smirks. “anyways, this doesn’t need a label. the sex outsells any of that dull shit we would’ve gotten in a trapped relationship. don’t you think so?”

you clench your jaw, who does he think you are? after everything that’s happened tonight, as if you’ll ever go back into bed with him again. “whatever." you say, trying not to let your voice crack. "i don't need you." you go to walk out. take a quick shower and put some makeup on in the guest room megumi reserved for you before he comes back and throws that damn party. "i can have anyone i want."

"good to know, princess." he nods, walking to the doorway of his bathroom. "so, same time tomorrow?"

"in your dreams." you huff, storming out and walking into the guest room.

"in my dreams, indeed." you hear him call out before you slam the door.

asshole.

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs. 

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks. 

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other. 

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him. 

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago. 

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome. 

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts. 

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is. 

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant. 

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever. 

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor. 

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away. 

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack. 

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back. 

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again. 

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans. 

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief. 

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her. 

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York. 

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry. 

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe. 

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color. 

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe. 

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[skinnyducky]

good in bed // v.h.

Hey...how y’all doing? I have halfway recovered from my wisdom teeth surgery and I definitely was feeling a bit sad not posting and whatnot. But, here I am now, so I hope you enjoy this one. Pt. 3 to Party at Y/n’s is most likely coming Monday. And, Pt. 2 to Maneater is coming Wednesday (hopefully). Any who, hope you enjoy! Also, this is very much inspired by Dula Peep’s “Good in Bed.”

Word Count: 1336, edited 

WARNING: mentions of sex, arguing, angst, language, and i think that’s it.

---------

The start of yours and Vinnie’s relationship was like ice cream on hot summer day. It was sweet, it was refreshing, and it was much needed. After being cheated on by your ex, you needed to find something to bring the love back…and that’s exactly what Vinnie did. The two of you had met after accidentally buying the same car. You bickered and fought over the vintage vehicle before he ultimately decided to let you keep it…but only if you gave him your number. You happily did so and long story short, that led to a beautiful relationship…or at least what was a beautiful relationship.

As the relationship went on, you found that the so-called “honeymoon phase” was really just a phase. For you and Vinnie, it lasted for a least a good two weeks. What started as late night conversations before bed shifted into heated debates and hate-filled goodnights. The butterflies that fluttered around had died, and now your stomach was overflowed with enraged hornets. You didn’t know what was the cause of your downfall, and you weren’t even sure that there was anything that could fix it.

Well…you knew one thing that definitely fixed it: sex. The term “angry sex” seemed like a myth. You thought people were just overhyping it…until you were actually living it. You remember the first time it happened; you were pissed that he didn’t show up to dinner with your parents, while he was pissed because you hadn’t stopped yelling at him for a good hour. The two of you argued for hours, and as an attempt to get you to stop, Vinnie grabbed you by your waist and tossed you onto his bed. It was silent, the only sound being the heavy breathing from both of you. Next thing you know, the two of you are going at it.

Ever since then, that’s all you two did: fight and screw, then pretend like nothing ever happened. As nice as the sex was, it just was too toxic for you. You didn’t want to be stuck in an endless cycle and having to resort to sex to solve your problems. And also, you wanted Vinnie to know you for more than just your body. With that being said, you figured the solution to that was to communicate. Something you two did none of.

So, here you were in Vinnie’s room, sitting on his bed and waiting for him to finish streaming. While scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, you tried to figure out what the hell you were going to say. You didn’t know how to talk about your feelings, it was completely foreign to you. Ugh, this was going to be difficult.

“…I love you guys, bye chat.”

Vinnie stopped streaming and turned around in his seat to face you. You pursed his lips and started fiddling with his thumbs. “So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“I think you know.” You said, not meeting his eyes.

“Is this the talk? You’re breaking up with me aren’t you?”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself at the boy’s stupidity. “No, Vinnie…I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Then why does it feel like you are?”

“I promise, I’m not. I just wanna try to communicate, y’know. Like other couples do.”

He shrugged. “Don’t we already do that?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call our exploration of each other’s bodies ‘communicating.’ Besides, you and I both know that our relationship isn’t the same as before. It’s like we’ve grown cold towards each other or something.”

“Is this because I forgot our anniversary?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

You gave him a puzzled look for a minute, trying to figure out when your anniversary actually was. Had you forgot too? Damn, this relationship really was trash.

“Uhm, no…this isn’t about that. Although, we really need to mark our anniversary on our calendars.”

“Then what’s this about, Y/n?”

You sighed and stood up from your spot on his bed. You paced in front of him, trying to figure out the right words to say. “Vinnie…I’m tired. I’m tired of always arguing and then having angry sex…which is amazing, by the way.”

He squinted his eyes at you as he thought about what you said. “So…are you mad about the arguing or the sex?”

“Oh my god, why is this so hard?” you groaned. “I’m mad about all of it, Vin. I’m mad that we just can’t talk to each other. I’m mad that when we do have time together, we spend it arguing. I’m mad that the only way for us to enjoy each other’s company is to have sex. I’m just tired of it all.”

“Then, let’s just end the relationship.”

You stopped your pacing and stared at him with wide eyes. “I just told you I didn’t wanna break up.”

Vinnie chuckled, “I know that Y/n, but if you’re really feeling that way…then just leave.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. You actually want to just break up? Aren’t you going to at least talk to me about what you’re feeling? Aren’t you gonna fight for us?”

“You wanna know what I’m feeling, Y/n?” Vinnie asked. You nodded, egging him to continue. “I’m feeling…very hungry right now. I want a fat burger and a fat fry with a fat shake to go along with it. That’s exactly what I’m feeling right now. And if the relationship is already going to hell…why fight for it? I say let it die.”

He then proceeded to hop out of his seat and dance around his room, chanting “let it die, let it die…let it shrivel up and die” while clapping.

You just stood there with nothing to say. You couldn’t believe that he was taking this all as a joke. You just poured your entire heart to him, trying to fix your relationship, and he’s sitting here quoting The Lorax and acting like a child. At this point, you were sure that there was no hope for the two of you and you were fine with that. You weren’t going to be driven mad by this anymore.

“You’re a fucking joke.” You growled, picking up your keys off his bed. “Y’know, I wish we hadn’t met each other because I’d be way better off if I didn’t even know you.”

“That’s not saying a lot, babe. You’d probably still be with the same dickhead who cheated on you.”

You scoffed, feeling the hornets in your stomach get their stingers ready. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m saying I made your life better. You wouldn’t be who you are today if it wasn’t for me.”

“You’re one to talk. You’d be stuck in here, playing video games and withering away if I hadn’t come along.”

Vinnie huffed, holding back a laugh. “At least I don’t have to deal with video games nagging at me all the time.”

“Jerk!” you yelled, rushing to his door. You stood in the doorway, turning around to look back at him. “I never want to see you again, you hear me? NEVER again, Vincent. You’re dead to me.”

Slamming the door behind you, you made your way down the hallway of the Hype House. But before you could go any further, something stopped you. A feeling of sadness washed over you and your anger subsided. The hornets that once threatened to pour out of you had now calmed down. At that moment, you felt your body tremble as sin known as lust flowed through your veins. You swallowed hard, trying to keep yourself from rushing back into Vinnie’s room and pouncing on him…but there was nothing you could do to stop yourself.

“Screw it,” you whispered.

You turned around and darted towards Vinnie’s room. Bursting through the door, you tackled him onto the bed and well…you know the rest. You knew going through this all over again was bad, that it was causing more damage to your relationship. It was definitely sad…but that’s what made you good in bed.

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (2)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 2,987 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, and @hoebii​​ for editing this for me.

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When you woke up, the cat was nowhere to be found, and your pillow was missing. It was just your luck that the random cat you had saved would end up being a kleptomaniac. You sighed and began to get ready for your day. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it. The cat was probably scared and confused, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

As you passed your TV stand, you bent down to peer underneath it. Copper eyes stared back at you. You greeted the cat and his tail swished back and forth against the floor, annoyed. So he wasn’t into mornings, then.

Heading into the kitchen, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee. If the cat wasn’t a morning person, then you would probably get along. You were an early riser, but that was mostly due to insomnia, not because you actually enjoyed being awake.

You brought him the rest of the chicken you had cut up the night before, prepared with his morning dose of the antibiotics. Laying down on the floor, you pushed the plate under the TV stand for him.

He sniffed at the chicken, eyes not leaving your face as he started to eat. His canines were long and pointy, you noticed, and if you paid attention when his mouth was closed, you could barely see the tip of the right one poking out from his lips.

“I’m going to go shopping today to get you some stuff.” The cat didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He was a cat. “I know you’re feeling better, but please try not to jump on stuff. You’ll hurt yourself more, and I really can’t afford another weekend trip to the vet.” His copper eyes seemed to soften at that for a moment before hardening back into a glare.

You weren’t sure what you did to make the cat constantly glare at you. Maybe he had a resting grouch face. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. You hoped that, if nothing else, he would eventually warm up to you. All the pets you’d had in the past had opened up to you right away, although you supposed that was because they were babies when your family had adopted them. You’d never adopted an adult cat before.

“Eat up,” you told him before pushing yourself off the floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

The pet store was larger than you remembered it being. When you were a kid shopping with your mother for your pets, there were only a few departments in the store. There was, of course, sections for cats and dogs, as well as areas for fish, birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Now though, in addition to the old departments, there were additional sections for hybrids of all kinds--there was even a department dedicated to large and exotic hybrids like lions, panthers, giraffes, and elephants.

Hybrids weren’t a new species by any means, but it had only been in the past decade or so that people had fully started to embrace them in society. Before, shops that catered to hybrids were usually small and boutique--hybrids used to only be seen as pets or servants, and ones that lived without ownership were few and far between. But after fighting for and receiving the rights they deserved, hybrids had become more prevalent in society. There was even a hybrid serving in the president’s cabinet, and quite a few serving in other high-ranking government positions.

You wandered through the cat section of the pet store, unsure of what to buy. You had a couple toys in your cart--catnip mice and little springs and balls that had bells in them. You knew the cat was somehow going to act offended by them, but you reminded yourself that he’s a cat, and indoor cats needed something to stimulate their minds.

You also had put some cat shampoo in your cart. The cat was dirty, and you weren’t sure how much blood was going to be caked into his fur under the bandage, so you figured a bath was somewhere in his immediate future.

Sighing, you grabbed a bag of air-dried food. He would probably hate that, too, but you couldn’t keep feeding him raw chicken. For one thing, you couldn’t stand the feel of it, and the less you had to touch the raw meat, the better. But also, chicken was expensive, and while your job paid decently, you weren’t sure how well it could support an all-raw diet for the cat. This air-dried food was turkey and salmon, and would be the next closest thing to raw.

Eventually, you would probably end up getting the cat a cat tree, but you didn’t think it was a good idea right now. With his shoulder injury, he really shouldn’t be climbing or jumping, and a cat tree would only invite that more. So you left the aisle, even though they had a tree that had a little house you knew he would love to hide in.

Before checking out, you stopped by the little kiosk that sold ID tags and collars. You knew he would hate wearing a collar, but if he ever escaped, you wanted to know someone could return him to you. You would ask the vet about microchipping later, but for now, a collar would have to do. Looking at the options, you couldn’t help but laugh. Most of the plain collars were pink or had things like little butterflies on them. A few had bells, which you knew he would find absolutely repulsive, and a couple others had bowties. You considered a dark blue plaid one with a bowtie, but decided against it. As cute as he would look, you knew the cat would probably bite you if you went anywhere near him with it.

You settled on a collar covered in piano keys. It was the plainest one they had in stock that wasn’t bright pink. You grabbed a small, circular tag, too. He would hate it, but at least maybe if you picked the least offensive options, the cat would tolerate wearing a collar.

On the way home, you stopped and grabbed a coffee from the chain cafe down the street from your apartment. You were still a little tired, and when you got home, you were glad for the extra caffeine.

“I’m home, kitty!” you called into the seemingly empty apartment. You hadn’t really been expecting the cat to be anywhere out in the open, but a small part of you had hoped.

Walking into the kitchen, you deposited the couple bags from the pet store on the table. You couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Nothing was broken or in the wrong place that you could see from first glance, but the niggling feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Something had been moved in your kitchen. Your mug from your coffee this morning was washed and sat in your drying rack, along with another cup that you had thought you put away and the dish from last night that you had used to feed the cat. You didn’t remember washing the dishes this morning, but you were still a little tired, so maybe you had and just forgot.

You didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, so you let it go, choosing instead to go find your cat. As expected, you found him under the TV stand. He was panting as if he had just run under there from somewhere else in the house.

“You know you’re allowed to be in other rooms, right?” you asked him softly, pulling the empty plate out so you could take it to the kitchen. “You don’t have to run under here every time I come home.” Copper eyes met yours for a second, and you could see panic in them. Then you saw it. The bandage around his shoulder was gone.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped it securely. He must have really been running around the house to not only loosen it, but to dislodge the bandage entirely.

“What were you doing while I was gone, dude?” you questioned. The cat looked terrified. His eyes were large as saucers, his ears flat against his head. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, his long canine teeth on full display. “Are you hurt?” That seemed to catch him off guard. “Are you still bleeding? Can I see?” You reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” you said softly, waving your phone in the dark. “But can you at least turn so I can see?”

It took you a second to realize that, again, you were talking to a cat. He wasn’t going to listen to you, despite how human his reactions to you seemed to be. In the second that it took you to remind yourself that your cat is, in fact, a cat, his demeanor changed. His ears were still pressed back against his head, but he seemed less agitated, more resigned. He crawled toward you slowly, the limp almost entirely gone.

When he was out from under the TV stand, he stood fully. You pushed yourself up so you could sit and examine him. As you reached for him, he backed away slightly. His copper eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds before they flicked away, focusing on the floor. He stood still and allowed you to scoop him up into your lap.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, scratching his head gently. “Let me just look at your shoulder.”

You ran your hand over the joint and he froze. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to bolt back under the TV stand. But he sat there stiffly, allowing you to feel for the bite marks and anything that might still be bleeding.

You found nothing. Not even a scab. The only signs of the dog attack yesterday were a ring of indents--scars, you presumed--that ran from his shoulder blades down to his chest and onto his leg. There was no way he had healed that fast.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you smiled at him. “If you don’t want to wear the bandage any more, you don’t have to,” you said soothingly, scratching at the base of his ear. His copper eyes met yours, and you pulled away at the apprehension in them.

He stepped out of your lap as soon as your hand was away from him. You nodded once, smiling at him. “I’m going to go do some work, kitty. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

You were a researcher. Always had been. When you were looking for apartments in the city, you had created spreadsheets and pro/con lists and had spent weeks researching neighborhoods. And when you decided on the right neighborhood, you had debated floor plans, after weeks of second-guessing finally settling on the single floor, three bedroom, two bathroom with the decent sized kitchen and living room.

You hadn’t done any research before taking in the cat. You loved cats, had had several growing up. You knew enough about them to not need to do any research before committing to taking home the stray living near your parents’ house.

Maybe you should have.

Although you weren’t exactly sure how researching could have possibly prevented anything. You pushed it out of your mind, though, choosing instead to focus on your next work project.

Except you couldn’t focus. Your client was a hybrid-owned cafe just outside the city, and you were trying to design their menus. Normally, it wouldn’t take you long at all. They were great clients, and they had given you all the information you needed, but your mind kept drifting to the cat in your living room. You assumed he had crawled back under the TV stand. He seemed to be comfortable enough under there, although clearly he felt comfortable leaving the shadows when you weren’t home.

And then there was the problem of his name. You had no idea what to call him, but you were sure he had a name. Though how you’d figure it out, you had no idea.

You had wanted to watch this movie for months. It had appeared on streaming services around Christmastime, but it was now April, and you still hadn’t had the chance to watch it. You curled up on your sectional in the living room to watch it, a bowl of popcorn sitting beside you. You had turned the lights off in the living room, so the only major source of light was what was coming from the TV, and it was a fairly dark movie.

Though you were invested in the plot, you still scrolled through your phone, your attention divided between social media and what was happening on the television.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a shadow moving under your TV stand. Your cat’s head poked out a second later, copper eyes watching you scroll through your social media. In another second, the rest of his body emerged from the shadows. You forced yourself to watch the movie. You didn’t want to freak him out by watching him. When you glanced back at where he had emerged, he was gone.

The movie was about halfway over when you noticed him again, slinking back into the living room from the hallway. Where he had gone, you had no idea. But he sat for a moment, staring at you from beside the wall. You had grabbed a blanket in the time that he had been gone. Your apartment tended to get chilly at night sometimes--it was old, and the insulation wasn’t the best--and you were a little cold.

Before you knew what was happening, he was up on the couch and in your lap, laying in the valley between your outstretched legs. He paused for a moment, copper eyes meeting yours as if gauging your reaction. In the dim light from the TV, you could see that hint of panic again, as if he was terrified you would shout or push him away. You smiled at him gently, resituating so more of your lap was available and going back to scrolling through your phone.

The cat was apparently satisfied with your reaction, because he readjusted himself, as well, curling up so he was taking up more real estate on your lap. You didn’t mind. His little body put off quite a lot of heat, and from what you could feel of him through the blanket, he was cold, too. Eventually, he settled in, his head rested against your leg beside your free hand, his tail flopped into the crook of your elbow, the tip flicking lightly back and forth.

After a moment, you felt him shift again, and you almost jumped when you felt his head press into your hand. It took you a second, and a few more tentative bumps from him, but you eventually opened your hand and allowed him to press his forehead into your palm. You rubbed your thumb gently over the soft fur of his cheek. He leaned into your touch and you could feel him relaxing. You heard the rumbles of a purr start to stutter in his chest. It wasn’t constant like other cats’--it sounded vaguely like popcorn, crackling and popping at random.

You sighed, resting one hand on his back and continuing to stroke his cheek. He stiffened for a moment and raised his head, wide eyes staring into your face, before he slowly started to relax again.

“I can’t keep calling you kitty,” you said softly when he was comfortable. He didn’t raise his head, but his ear swiveled in your direction to show he was paying attention. “And I’m terrible at names, so you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell me what yours is. Unless you want me to call you something ridiculous like Smudge or Shadow.” The cat grunted. Apparently he didn’t like those names, either. “I didn’t think so.”

Your attention returned to the movie, but you kept petting him. His stuttering purr resumed. He directed your hand by nudging it, up his head and down to his shoulder. He adjusted how he was laying so you could rub where the scars of yesterday’s bite marks were. You massaged the area gently, his purring increasing in volume.

His fur was soft and considerably less dirty than it had been that morning. If you concentrated, he smelled like your shampoo.

“I have to take some stuff back to the pet store tomorrow,” you said finally. “So you’ll have some time alone to do whatever.”

He froze, and despite the movie playing, it was quiet without his purring. His eyes were wide, and he hissed, but aside from his ears flattening, he didn’t move. He was scared--no, he was terrified.

It broke your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You kept your voice soft and even. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

You sighed. You still felt a little weird talking so seriously with a cat, but his reactions confirmed what your research had told you. You had questions, and you were a little concerned about the logistics of everything, but you had started to come to terms with it.

Him smelling like your shampoo. The dishes being done. The stolen pillow and blanket. The things that were moved ever so slightly. The oddly appropriate reactions to what you were saying. How fast he had healed. Maybe you’d always known. Maybe that’s why you still talked to him like he was a person.

He was a person, more or less.

Your cat was a hybrid.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 15 - Liar Liar [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Dishonesty requires practice.

Series Masterlist

Every spy knew things could go downhill on a mission. Considering how your last mission had ended with your ex, you weren’t exactly unfamiliar with the idea of your cover being blown but—

None of the targets were as dangerous as this one.

For a moment, you thought about pushing that button on your wristwatch and calling your whole team here because there was no way you could take down the legendary Winter Soldier in a fight, but through the haze of panic, a voice in your head told you not to.

It was just a mission.

As long as you kept your calm, you could fix this.

“Bucky,” you heard yourself say, “I can explain.”

He stared at you and the gun in his hand, then raised his brows.

“Okay,” he said, “Yeah, please explain why you have a gun.”

God damn it.

Okay, you had to think. Your cover was the naïve sweet civilian girl so any sentence you formed had to fit the description. The spy in you was already trying to come up with something, you had been taught to lie without even blinking but somehow it felt almost—

Wrong.

You tried to pull yourself together, shaking your head.

“I—it’s—“ you took a deep breath, “Yeah I have a gun.”

“I can see that,” he said drily, “Why?”

Good question.

Why would the small town sweetheart have a gun?

The cover story didn’t have anything like that, so you had to come up with a believable lie based on—

Oh. Bingo.

“I was going to tell you,” you said. “I’ve actually—I’ve had it for weeks.”

“For weeks?” he repeated, “Why?”

You ran a hand over your eyes, then crossed your arms and shrugged.

“I’m going to need more than that, Y/N.”

You gritted your teeth and raised your glances to look up at him. “After I got mugged,” you started, “I told one of my friends back home about what happened and she’s—she came up with this idea that I should maybe buy a gun because I—I don’t know. I don’t know why I bought it, I just bought it.”

“You bought a gun because your friend told you to?”

You tilted your head, “No Bucky, I bought a gun because I got mugged and got shot within the first month of moving here.”

His gaze on you was fixed, as if he was trying to see whether you were lying or not but now that panic wasn’t taking over you, you could think straight.

Bucky was a legend among the espionage world and he was unstoppable and you probably didn’t stand a chance against him yes, but you had one advantage.

Bucky was a soldier, not a spy.

Spies were different. Bucky had the physical training to go after a target, but he never, ever had to manipulate them emotionally. You were one step ahead on that and if there was anything that could get you out of this mess, that was it.

“Listen I know that you’re concerned, but you have nothing to worry about,” you waved a dismissive hand, “The guy at the shop was very helpful, he even gave me his number—”

His head shot up, “What?”

“Yeah in case I needed anything with the gun. Or if I had any questions.”

A shadow crossed his eyes and he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Did he now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “And besides, I watched a bunch of tutorials so I think I got it. I’m a very quick learner.”  

“Tutorials?”

“Yeah, videos.”

He blinked a couple of times, and looked down at the gun before looking up at you.

“You watched videos.”

“Mm hm. One of the guys even had a deer head mounted on the wall behind him, it’s very clear he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself and you had to remind yourself not to smile.

“And I know how to take the safety off,” you added, “After that point it’s basically point and pull the trigger, that’s what the video said.”

“I don’t even know where to begin— sweetheart,” he turned to you, “Forget what the video said, I can teach you if you want, but for what it’s worth, I think it’s a terrible idea.”

Hook, line and sinker.

“I hate guns,” you insisted, “It’s just that—Stacey said it’s a big city and after I got shot… I don’t know. I know I should’ve told you, I just didn’t want you to think I’m some kind of a paranoid person.”

He heaved a sigh and reached out to tug you by the hand so that he could pull you closer.

“I don’t think you’re paranoid,” he said. “I just think that you could hurt yourself or someone if you don’t have any training.”

“The guy made it sound pretty easy.”

“Yeah, I don’t think selling it was the only thing he wanted.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Now who’s being paranoid?”

“I’m just being observant.”

“Jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said and you scrunched up your nose

“Right,” you said, “Of course you’re not.”

“So is there anything I should know about?” he changed the subject, “Anything at all? I won’t judge, I swear.”

You pressed your lips together as you looked up at him. What could you say to that?

I’ve been manipulating you all along.

I’m working for the same government that is looking for you to slip and make a mistake.

When this is over, I’m probably going to hate myself much more than you hate me.

Yeah. There was absolutely nothing you could say.

“Nothing I can think of right now,” you shrugged your shoulders, “So, can we go now?”

                                    ***

You could barely remember the last time you had been to a funfair. It didn’t even matter that you already knew where you were going, you were still quite excited despite the earlier panic you had gone through. Thankfully, Bucky seemed to have bought into your story but it didn’t mean you weren’t taking mental notes about what to do by the time the date was over.

Or when you were out of his sight, whichever.

“Thank you!” you said what it felt for the hundredth time as you put a piece of cotton candy into your mouth, enjoying the sweet taste melting in your mouth and Bucky smiled at you fondly.

“No problem darling.”

“No seriously, I haven’t been to a funfair in…I don’t know, forever!” you said, “Wait, so it was a thing back then?”

“Hm?”

“Bringing your date to a funfair?”

He nodded, walking beside you, “Yeah. There wasn’t much to do and you know, lots of people.”

“So no gossip?”

“Lots of gossip,” he corrected you, “But at least—“

“No one’s virtue got damaged.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you grinned at him and gasped when something caught your eye, making him turn his head.

“What?”

“Oh my God!” you pointed at the huge neon sign and he followed your gaze, then scoffed a laughter.

“Seriously?”

“I want to try it.”

“Shoot The Ducks.” He read out loud, “You know what, let’s see how good you are if you watched that many videos.”

“I’m going to get that teddy bear,” you pointed at the biggest teddy bear sitting on the top shelf while he looked like he was fighting a laugh.

“Are you sure you can carry that?”

“You’re going to carry it for me,” you said as you handed him the cotton candy, your nose in the air and tugged him by the wrist to lead him to the shooting range. You took a look at the paper ducks with bullseye on them, then turned to the man behind the counter.

“Excuse me, how many of those should I shoot to get that?” you asked, motioning at the teddy bear and the man looked up.

“3 sets, all bullseye.”

“Okay,” you said and reached for your purse but Bucky had already paid the man by the time you could get your wallet out. He gave you the toy rifle and you had to remind yourself you were supposed to be terrible at it no matter how much you wanted that goddamn plushie.

The good thing about being an expert sniper was that you knew exactly how to miss and look like an amateur. So you pointed the rifle slightly to the right and took your shot, and as expected you missed.

“No!” you whined and Bucky stifled a chuckle, but adapted a look of seriousness as soon as you turned around to look at him with your eyes narrowed.

“I said nothing.”

“That was just bad luck,” you insisted, then took your shot again, deliberately missing once more. You lowered the rifle, pouting.

“I’m pretty sure this is rigged.”

“Or maybe the guy with the deer head on his wall had no idea what he was talking about,” Bucky pointed out, “Almost like watching videos isn’t enough to figure out how to shoot, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“On the contrary, I am a little terrified now that I know you have a gun," he taunted you, “And seeing this…”

You glared at him and took your shot, missing again and you heaved a sigh, lowering the rifle again.

“Better luck next time miss,” the man said and you offered him a small smile. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was fighting himself.

“Which one did you say you wanted again?” he asked and you pulled your brows together, then pointed at the huge teddy bear. He nodded at the guy and handed him some cash after giving you your cotton candy back, then grabbed the toy rifle from the man and in only a couple of seconds, he had hit every single bullseye, making your jaw drop.

Okay.

You were so screwed.

You knew that he was a great super soldier but seeing it was something else. A shiver ran down your spine as what you had read on his file flashed before your eyes. You were right earlier, you had to make sure to avoid any kind of combat with him by the time this whole mission was over.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you tried to pull yourself together, letting out a breath.

“Wow,” you managed to say and the man behind the counter gawked between you two.

“Um— that one please?” you said and he blinked a couple of times, then reached out to take the teddy bear down to put it into your arms. You let out a small squeal of glee, then beamed at Bucky.

“Thank you!” you said, trying to keep your nervousness hidden and he smiled.

“No problem,” he motioned at you and you gave the teddy to him so that you could hold your cotton candy better. You shook your head slightly, distracting yourself with the sweetness on your tongue but a small laughter escaped from your lips when you took a look at the sight beside you.

The scary Winter Soldier holding a huge teddy bear in his arms.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you managed to say, “I’m going to name him Bucky.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fine, I’m going to name him Grumpy,” you said, “Same deal.”

“Hey!” he protested and you giggled, then looked around.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand, “Let’s go to the Ring Toss!”

                                ***

It was as if the time was going faster on your every single date with Bucky. Even after spending hours in that funfair until midnight, you were still quite giddy when you and Bucky reached your building. You let out a giggle as you turned around and took the huge teddy bear from him, hugging it tight.

“Thank you,” you said, looking up at him, “Really. I…I think it was the best that I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” you said, “And now I have to find something equally amazing for a modern date, so no pressure.”

He chuckled, “You don’t have to find anything,” he said, “I’d be happy just being with you, not doing anything.”

Warmth filled your insides and you smiled.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded and you put the teddy bear down, then stood on your tiptoes to pull him down to a kiss.

His arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself sighing as his other hand cupped your cheek. A fire – a very, very familiar fire started burning at the pit of your stomach as you felt yourself melt at his touch, every single doubt about the mission and the strategies and everything else wiping out of your mind until desire was the only thing left. He brushed your hair behind your ear as you pulled back and looked up at him, the same fire burning in his eyes but he was better than you at hiding it so a gentle smile pulled at his lips.

Fuck what the strategy report says.

“Um—“ you took a deep breath, “Would you want to come upstairs for...a cup of coffee or something?”

He looked almost surprised at the suggestion but for what it was worth, he overcame that quite fast. His gaze stopped on you for a moment before he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah I’d love to.”

A nervous laughter escaped from you and you nodded,

“Okay—“ you started but before you could say anything, his phone started ringing. He closed his eyes for a moment and took it out of his pocket to answer it.

“This is not a good time man,” he said, but his frown deepened as he listened to the other line, “Right now? Are you serious?”

You tilted your head and he heaved a deep sigh while the person told him something you couldn’t hear.

“Fine,” he muttered, “I’ll be there.”

Oh God damn it.

“Let me guess,” you said when he hung up, “Change of plans?”

He ran a hand over his eyes and nodded.

“Sam says there’s this group of people in need of help…” he grumbled, putting the phone into his pocket, “But somebody better be dying because if not, I can fix that really fast.”

You let out a laugh, “Don’t be like that,” you said, “It’s fine. I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Go save lives.”

“I’m really sorry darling.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated with a smile and pecked him on the lips before picking up the huge teddy bear. “But be careful, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted and you blew him a kiss before walking into the building. You took the elevator, still holding the teddy tight and as soon as you got to your floor you stepped out.

“What the hell is that?” Keith’s voice reached you and you tilted your head to look around the teddy’s arm to see him by his door, as if he was just leaving.

“It’s a teddy bear,” you said, walking to your door to open it, Keith following you into the apartment.

“What’s in it?” he asked, “Weapons? Guns? Knives?”

“…Fiber.”

“Y/N—” he started but you put it on the floor and took a step back.

“Where are you going?”

“General gave me a mission,” he said, “You seriously want me to believe you just got a teddy bear just because?”

“I was on a date.”

“Oh,” he said, “Romantic. It would be a great way to hide weapons though, even you have to admit—”

“Bucky found my gun.”

Keith stopped talking and stared at you for a couple of seconds, “I beg your pardon?”

You rubbed at your eyes, “You heard me. He found my gun.”

“Why the hell did you not alert me?”

“There was no need.”

Keith threw his head back, “Are you serious right now?” he asked you, “This is the freaking Winter Soldier we’re talking about, you’re not supposed to take any chances! For God’s sake, I live next door for a reason!”

“My cover wasn’t blown,” you insisted, “If you or the team got here, all this would’ve been for nothing. I handled it.”

He crossed his arms, “Still an unnecessary risk to take,” he insisted, “Anything could’ve happened, Y/N. You’ve read his file.”

You nodded, “I handled it,” you said, “You should go by the way. You’re going to be late, the General hates that.”

“Do you want me to say anything to him?”

You thought for a moment and shook your head.

“No,” you said, “Good luck.”

“We will talk about this when I came back.” he pointed at you and left your apartment. You took a look at the teddy bear, then grabbed your phone to touch Chloe’s name.

“Hey there!” she answered on the first ring, “How was the funfair?”

“It was good,” you said, “Listen, I need you to make sure my background is solid.”

“What?” she asked, “It is, I made sure of that—“

“Bucky found my gun,” you said, “Earlier.”

She took in a sharp breath, “God damn it.”

“No it’s fine, I came up with this story of buying it from a shop after the mugging, but…”

“You need a document just in case,” she completed your sentence, “Got it. Do you think he would check?”

“No,” you said, “But Wilson might, he and Bucky are pretty close. It would be much harder to trick him.”

“Got it,” she said, “I’ll get the document ready, maybe some footage… And I’ll go over your social media just in case.”

“Great.”

“But are you okay?”

You paused only for a moment,

“Sure,” you said, “I’m fine, I handled it. It’s all going according to plan.”

“Alright,” she said, “I’d better get to it. Be careful!”

“You too,” you said and hung up, then went to the kitchen to grab a couple of knives before going back to the living room.

“Sorry about this Bucky number two,” you murmured as you turned it around, stuck the knife into it and started ripping it, “But you really would make a good place to hide weapons.”

Chapter 16

[blzzrdstryr]

By proxy

Platonic yandere!Kaeya & child!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2195

A.N.: My first time writing platonic yanderes, hope you'll enjoy.

It's an impulsive decision for the most part - taking you, that is.

Kaeya trudges through the Wolfendom forest, a couple of his underlings, Addler and Otto, following behind as they trail a group of treasure hoarders. Criminal gang must have known that knights are on their tail, there's no other explanation for their sudden fleeing, leaving an already broken camp behind and taking only the most valuable possessions.

It's raining and he silently curses, even if this will give him advantage in battle, but archons, it's so cold. Huge droplets fall on the ground with a resounding sound, drenching everything and turning the forest landscape deep into nigh impassable terrain. Mud clings to their feet, slowing the group down, as the Sun starts to set. Sky turns all shades of purple and red, dimming light throwing the last rays over the Mondstadt as the darkness settles, yet Kaeya and his group still carry forward through the palisade of tall trees.

“Sir”, Otto carefully starts: “It seems that criminals are already several miles away from us”.

Kaeya nods for the knight to continue, already knowing that it will be an ask to stop - the weather is hellish and the rain is one of the heaviest Kaeya has ever had to experience.

“With how strong this rainfall is, the gang's traces will be gone in under an hour”

"All the more reasons to push on and catch them then", Alberich replies, paying zero attention to Adler's slight trembling or Otto's teeth chattering. The group continues on their path through descending darkness, their footsteps hasting despite the clinging and growing fatigue.

Suddenly, as the knights make their way around the cliff, a slight whimper is heard. It's human enough to stop the group - maybe some unlucky civilian got in the way of the gang, maybe criminals left their injured one. Kaeya just nods to the pair, as Otto and Adler unsheathe their weapons, wordlessly understanding the gesture.

Cavalry captain takes a step into the forest pit with a raised sword, all sight and ears, light blue vision on his belt shining and flickering both in caution and anticipation. He walks slowly and quietly, like a cat, careful not to step on the leaves and twigs lying around, and then he sees you.

You are a child, all thin and small in the way that the sick are. There are dark circles under your tired eyes, and the scrapes all over your body. You look already dead. He runs up to you, as he sees your figure swaying and knees buckling, saving you from the fall. Your skin burns Kaeya as he carries you back to the knights - it must be fever then. You blink at him several times, saying something, but your voice is too small and weak to make out anything among the droplets falling, and then you stop, eyes rolling back and head lolling to the side. You blacked out.

He thinks about handing your body to either of the knights and then continuing to run after the gang into the knight, but then decides against it - heavy rain must have blurred all the footsteps they left. Adler almost fails. You escape your delirium a couple of times, babbling words about forest and rain and wolves, and Kaeya, despite his focus on the trail ahead, can't help but listen to what you say. It's childish nonsense for the most part, an incomprehensible product of the feverish mind, yet sometimes you say meaningful things - I thought I would die, I got scared of wolf howls, The rain was so cold.

Some small part of him shrinks and aches at these words, a long buried hurt resurfacing once again. Kaeya frowns and huffs as he tries to get rid of the images of the days long gone in his mind - rainy night, hunger, pain, cold, he will die here. His lips quirk and a humorless laugh escapes him - the irony is painful.

He drops you off at the church, concerned Barbara taking you to the hospital and Kaeya, after a brief report to Jean, goes home, his mind still stuck on the memories of days long past. You will be fine, he tells himself, the church has good healers and the orphanage is nearby. Once you get better, you’ll get sent there, where devoted nuns will raise to be another disciple.

You had a look of a deadman - a strange catatonic serenity was radiating off of you, as you looked at the captain with a glazed yet piercing eyes, both seeing him and through him. It’s cold, so cold, yet no one is here. There are hot tears on his face, wet tracks burning his skin. His tummy is empty and aching, cold bites at his limbs, but Kaeya patiently waits for the adult to return. Father said that Kaeya was their last hope, so sure he would never leave him to die, right?

Cavalry captain barely sleeps through the night, memories and inner demons eating him from inside. When he does manage to doze off, a vague picture of darkening forests and howling winds wake him up, a fervent chanting buzzing in his head - Where is his father? Where is his father? Where is his father?.

Kaeya comes to you the next day, as his shift ends, legs heading to the towering church at the top on their own. Barbara leads him to your bed, your unconscious form lying limply. Idol explains your health issues to him - fever, malnutrition, inflammation, common cold and slight poisoning. The scratches you had yesterday were healed, Barbara says, but the rest of the problems can't be easily fixed with a bit of a hydro.

"Then, what medicines do they need?", Kaeya asks, understanding the unspoken words. The Church of Favonius, despite the large funding it receives from the city's treasury, still lacks a lot of resources and materials. People are free to come and get cured, without having a single mora to pay, which means that most of the remedies disappear at an alarming rate - be it some herbal balm for aching joints or a simple linen bandage.

The idol rustles in the hidden pockets of her dress, taking out a pencil and sheet of paper and begins to write, the list grows as Kaeya’s eyebrows get higher and higher. There are dried Liyuen herbs, exotic Sumeru fruits, specially treated Snezhnayan and Fontaine tinctures and medicines.

Kaeya is taken aback for a second by the sheer length of the final list - most of the items will have to be ordered and shipped and despite his salary of the captain allowing such expenses, it’s still strange to spend so much mora - a complete stranger. Captain contemplates just leaving you there - nuns will take care of you, but the hurt resurfaces again and he sees another person lying on the small hospital bed - little him, scared and confused.

He ends up buying all the listed things, and despite his efforts not to, continues to regularly check up on you when he has time. Sometimes, Barbara says, you wake up from your slumber, enough to utter some confused noises and questions, but then you drowse off again, both sickness and medicine pulling you back to sleep.

Kaeya, to his displeasure, never catches you conscious in time, until he comes one evening, expecting to spend the time looking at you sleeping again only to see you half sitting on the bed. Your posture gets straight the second you notice him too, an expression of confusion and fear appearing on your face.

"Hello", Kaeya starts, slowly walking up towards you, keeping his posture small and voice as friendly as possible:"I am that knight who carried you here, remember?", he explains, seeing the further abashment on you face.

You nod at him, prompting him to continue:"So, I just decided to visit you to ask you how you got in the forest and why were you alone"

"Sister Barbara said that you came here almost everyday," you reply, voice absolutely flat and face having no expression. Kaeya looks at you briefly - it’s rare for children to speak in such a cold manner, you must have something on your mind then.

"Yes, I did" , he says in the same friendly tone.

"Just to know why I was in the forest?" , your voice betrays you, a hint of hurt seeping into it. Ah, that’s why you asked.

"Hm, of course no! I also wanted to see you get better" , he smiles at the end, leaning a bit closer to you. You mull over his words, thinking of their sincerity, and then a later second you say, with much less caution and guard up:

"Well I am better now and…" you get silent for a good minute:"I don't remember why I was there. I think it's because of the fever". Your voice becomes strangely controlled again - you lie to Kaeya, you didn’t forget anything. A part of cavalry captain swells and purrs, recognizing himself in you,

"Do you want to live with me?". He asks instead of trying to get the truth out of you. Your eyes shine and a surprised noise comes out of your mouth at his suggestion - something between a squeak and high pitched yelp.

His apartment isn't the best place to bring the child in - there are far too many bottles and not enough food - Kaeya lives off the takeout from the Good hunter and the skewers he grills when missions call him to leave the city walls. Nonetheless, you don’t look too disgusted with his living conditions, so he considers it a win, as he heads for the tiny kitchen to make you a soup.

It turns out a bit burnt in the end - Kaeya added too much wood to the stove, but you still gulp it down, not leaving anything and thank him for the meal. He makes a mental note to buy you a bed - right now you’re sleeping on a small couch, and clothes to change.

You are a quiet child, too fast to apologize for the smallest mistakes and wary of him when he’s in a foul mood - it gives Kaeya an idea why you were in the woods. Your days together flow slowly and steady with Kaeya falling into routine - he wakes up, makes a breakfast for the both of you, you eat it, as you shyly tell him about your newest interest or finding - a drawing, a strange bug, a shiny rock of unusual colour, then he leaves for work, instructing you to go to the neighbours if you have issues, and leaving a premade dinner for you. Then he comes back, now listening to you talking about your day - you were drawing again, or you played with the other kids, or you were running and catching the butterflies, the now dead insects left for him to look at.

It’s a mundane life, something that Kaeya thought will never please him. There is a large pit inside of him - it was growing and festering with years - Khaenri’ah, father, Diluc, Crepus, that fight. It’s ugly and snarling and thoroughly scorched, a part of his soul that keeps him awake and anxious and angry and sad during bad nights. The pit quiets a bit when Kaeya takes care of you - toys, foods, games, the same way he wishes he was treated as a child.

Crepus Ragnvindr was a nice person, he took Kaeya in, clothed and fed and kept him safe for years, yet there was always an invisible line that separated Khaenri'ahn from Diluc - warmer voice, higher expectations, more praise. Kaeya doubts Crepus noticed this truly tiny gap in treatment, Diluc for sure didn’t. Alberich did his best to ignore it, yet he couldn’t, this difference nagged him at the back of his mind, alienating him in the newfound home.

That must be why he does his best to spoil you - it's new toys and furniture and evening walks around the Mondstadt with you on his shoulders. Soon, a new rumour starts to travel around Mondstadt - about a stray being picked up by another stray. Amber seemingly forgives him for the incident with Collei, Jean gives him a raise the same month, for child expenses, she succinctly says, Albedo off handedly mentions Klee and her desire for friendships, even Lisa gives him a couple of fairytale books, warning him what will happen if he will be late to return them beforehand. Diluc doesn't comment on the irony the next time they happen to meet, but he sees some Dawn Winery workers looking after you, when he is busy with Favonius stuff.

Kaeya, for the first time in years, feels truly happy. He has family again - you and him this time and he's willing to smother you with affections. He buys you things he wishes he had, and teaches you the skills he thinks will help you in life - how to fight, how to lie, how to kill someone with words alone.

It's a strange love he has for you - never seeing you as you - but it's genuine and all encompassing. Kaeya doesn't want little him to suffer again.

[of-birds-and-men]

Kass gave Link a warm smile, the early morning sun dipping him in honey and making his smile glow even more. “Well, this is quite out of the blue. Not even a ‘hello?’ Much less a ‘please?’”

Link’s lips snapped into a flustered frown. “I’m sorry,” he frantically signed. “Please, could you teach me?”

After throwing his head back to bellow a laugh, Kass chuckled, “I am only messing with you, my friend. Do not worry.” He patted the spot next to him on the landing where he sat, signaling Link to sit by him. “I’m curious about what song you want to play. Which is it?”

Accepting the invitation to sit next to Kass, Link kept his head down as he shuffled over. His eyes flicked around and his cheeks started to redden the slightest bit. Why the answer embarrassed him so much, he wasn’t so sure, but it was hard to get his reply out.

“Ah,” Kass said with his smile still prominent on his beak as he set his accordion down next to him. “Do you mean to learn the other Champions’ songs as well?”

Link breathed in through his teeth and shrugged. “Maybe. But I want to learn Revali’s right now if I can...”

Kass looked down at him with raised eyebrows, as if gently urging him to elaborate. 

With that, Link rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged again. “Well...I don’t know. I had some memories come to me, but they’re foggy and I can barely understand them. But, something is telling me today is Revali’s…” His hand dropped and his brow furrowed in thought. He knew the sign for the Hylian term but didn’t know it for the Rito if there even was one for it. Opting to fingerspell, Link spelled it out with his fingers as Kass read it closely.

When he was finished, Kass’s beak hung open a little in interest. “Oh, so today is Champion Revali’s Hatchday? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I…”

“...I think so.”

“You mean to play his song in his memory today?”

Link’s cheeks burned brighter. “Is that stupid?”

“Oh, no. Not in the slightest,” Kass assured, waving his hand. “In fact, I think it’s a lovely idea.”

“...Thanks. I don’t know what else I would do anyway. If there was something, I don’t remember it,” Link said, his hands moving slowly. His mind drifted; not that there was anywhere for it to go after his century-long sleep practically wiped it clean. 

He brought himself back to where he was with a sigh. “I don’t know. I would do something or leave him a gift, but I remember next to nothing about him. I don’t remember what he liked or even what he hated. Nothing...”

It was true. There were only a couple of clear memories of Revali that Link remembered now. Only a few moments where Link could see his face and hear his voice clearly. And then there were even more blurry, foggy images of him that were slowly trickling in and left Link with more questions than answers. Leaving him feeling like there was so much more that he was missing. Almost like he was missing an important part of himself; of what his life had been before Calamity Ganon struck.

Really, it was the same thing with everyone; with Zelda, Mipha, Urbosa, and Daruk. Brief memories, some clear and some so hazy they were beyond recognition.

But with Revali, it was somehow different. It hurt more. It was severely more painful. It made both his heart and head ache. And he had no idea why it was the case for Revali out of all of them. Why the one who seemed to like him the least, or even hated him, made Link feel this longing...No, this need...to remember and know him like he used to. However it had been.

Still, even though his mind was riddled by all sorts of questions he couldn’t answer after forgetting everything but his own name…

Something within him couldn’t quite let itself completely forget.

“But I know that I have to do something for him and this is all I can think of,” Link finished, taking his time with every hand motion as he stared down at the lake below them; the surface of the water was almost black with the light of the morning sun not having reached it yet.

Noticing the gloom that was beginning to dawn on Link again, Kass leaned over and spoke up in a chipper voice. “It is more than a generous gift. Do not sell yourself short. I’m sure that if he is still there to listen, he will be grateful.” 

Link forced a small smile to give to Kass. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.”

Kass let the corners of his beak curl all the way up to try and settle whatever troubles he thought Link had. “I must say though, I did not take you for the musical type,” he began. “What does a man like you play?”

Letting out a short hum, Link fumbled around in the small bag on his belt to show the instrument in question. Once he fished it out, he held it out for Kass to see.

It was an ocarina he had come across in his travels. His curiosity had driven him to buy it with the extra rupees he had on hand when he saw it amongst Beedle’s wares. Though, it wasn’t until he actually held it and felt the cool ceramic touch on his skin and the shape in his hands, did he realize it was not so much curiosity as it was familiarity. Or something close to it.

And again, it was proven to Link that while his head was clear of what made him himself in the past, there were many things that his body seemed to remember. Muscle memory helped him ride horses like a pro straight away, and instinct along with that allowed him to fight the way he had before without needing to relearn much of anything. It was the same sort of thing for the ocarina; as soon as he brought the mouthpiece to his lips, his fingers knew exactly where to go to play notes he didn’t remember and songs he couldn’t recall. It all came to him naturally as if playing it was once something that was ingrained in him. And he found himself occasionally fiddling with it until now. Too busy to really sit down and learn anything new, but playing what his lips and fingers remembered when he had a moment to himself.

If Link couldn’t leave Revali a proper gift on his Hatchday, then at least he could play his song, one of the last things the world had left to remember him by. Whether it was for Revali himself, if he was still there, or if it was in his memory on his day.

Or, even if it was just for Link; a way to remember Revali with what little he had left.

Hopefully, it would be enough. But it definitely didn’t feel like it, even if it was all he could really do.

“An ocarina certainly does suit you,” Kass said, looking at the instrument in Link’s hands before peering at him and pointing at it. “Ah, may I?”

Link nodded, allowing Kass to take the ocarina in his hands and examine it himself.

“Can you play it, too?” Link asked.

Tittering, Kass replied, “Well, Rito aren’t exactly equipped to play wind instruments, considering our anatomy.” He tapped his beak. “Though, I think once I found a way around it to make it work with this blasted thing on my face. Would you mind if I tried?”

Link’s lips tightly creased together to keep him from smirking as he shook his head and motioned toward the ocarina. He watched as Kass brought it to his beak, which clacked against the ceramic as he tried to find the best position.

Kass’ feathers ruffled; clearly, he was flustered, but he tried his best to get past it by laughing it off. “Well, this is certainly humbling. This proves that no matter how esteemed of a bard I may be, I simply cannot master everything...What with my pesky beak and less than graceful fingers.” He rubbed the mouthpiece of the ocarina on his scarf before handing it back to Link.

With how much spit he saw flying from Kass when he was trying the ocarina, Link decided to rub it again on his clothes for good measure. 

Kass let out another embarrassed chuckle and twisted around to grab his accordion. “I might not be able to give you direction, but I can teach you the notes.”

Link nodded. “That works,” he said, his last words before readying his hands to focus on his ocarina rather than on speaking.

Smiling while he slid his hands through his instrument’s straps, Kass said, “Well, let’s begin then.”

~

Link opened his mouth to say something, finding himself gaping at Vah Medoh, but clamped it shut again. He attached the ocarina to his belt for a moment to speak with his hands.

Whether he was really alone or if there was still someone there to see him, he was not sure at all. After the defeat of Ganon, he was never sure what happened to Revali or the others.

Even so...he had the feeling he wasn’t quite alone.

But maybe that was just him being hopeful. Hopeful that he wasn’t just making a fool of himself. Grasping at straws for nothing.

“Hi.” Instantly, he cringed at himself and hissed through his teeth. Now he really felt stupid. Nonetheless, he made himself go on. “I’m not sure if you’re even here right now or if I’m talking to myself. But, either way-“ Link took a second to swallow and fix his eyes back down to the ground beneath him. “I wish I could say I remember you. There are only little things I remember, but something is telling me there’s so much more to you...to us...that I’m still missing.”

Link licked his lips. He hoped that he was, in fact, alone, so Revali wouldn’t be seeing him rambling on to himself.

“But I know that we were close somehow. I feel that, once, you were the most important thing to me, but that’s all I know. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip that was still wet from when he licked them. “That’s why when I remembered it was your birthday-“ Link froze, then corrected, “Sorry, hatchday...I knew I had to do something for you, because, in a way, you still matter to me now as much as you did before. But you’re still a mystery to me; I know nothing about you further than you being a Champion and being the pride of your people.” He laughed a little to himself. “And that you didn’t like me at all. At first, at least. I’m not sure.”

Finally, he racked up the courage to look back up at Vah Medoh. “I do know your song though, which I’m sure you’d like to know is played by bards to keep your memory alive. I’m not one of those at all, but I can just barely remember how to play this thing and Kass taught me how to play your song. One of the things of yours that’s still here- Even if these are all the memories I can ever have of you, at least I can have this. And your bow, too.”

Nervously, he started to chuckle to himself. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Maybe I never should’ve said anything. Anyway, the point is...I know it’s a crummy present and I don’t know if you’re even still here to listen, but I learned how to play your song for you.”

Done with his monologue, Link anxiously took the ocarina off of his belt. For a moment, he stared at it and focused on the cool touch of it in his hand before slowly bringing it up to his mouth. He took in a deep breath while his fingers went to their places and he played what he learned for Revali.

Dormant, Vah Medoh said nothing in reply, leaving Revali alone to revel in both Link’s appearance and song. That was fine. He honestly hadn’t expected her to reply anyway.

Even when he couldn’t even remember him, Link was still annoyingly sentimental. It brought bittersweet comfort that, even with everything that had happened, it was still the same Link before him. His Link.

He had the same golden hair he used to run his fingers through. The same lustrous, sapphire eyes he used to stare into. The same quiet laugh that warmed Revali’s heart. The same strength that Revali both envied and once fell in love with. The same kindness. The same courage. The same everything. Every little thing Revali loved and even hated about him was still there, down below, playing a song for someone he didn’t even know anymore.

Still, it hurt knowing Link didn’t know him. Seeing no recollection on his face when Link first came to Vah Medoh...Seeing Link looking at him as if he was a stranger…

Well, it nearly broke his heart. To be eventually forgotten by his people was worse enough, but then to have the one he loved come back to him only to forget him, too…

Revali sniffed, resting his hand under his chin to watch Link far down below. 

Link was right. This was a crummy present. His finger clumsily fumbled around and he kept blowing into the ocarina’s mouthpiece too hard or too soft. Even from here, he could see his spit flying. Funny how, even over a hundred years later, he never did get better with that thing.

He really was still his Link. Just how he remembered him. Just how he loved him. How he would, unfortunately, always love him. Even if it meant being unrequited for the rest of time.

~~~

GASPS OUT OF BREATH,,,,,, WOW OKAY,, umm LOL here is le @revalinkexchange gift for @mars-janka ??? I. hm. certainly took some liberties and for some reason with my srs lack of expertise ..I was like “HEY I KNOW HOW TO MAKE THIS INFINITELY HARDER ON MYSELF!!! WRITE AND ALSO DRAW A BILLION PICTURES WHICH IS SOMETHING I BARELY KNOW HOW 2 DO.” 

//sobs// i was so drained of my life juices by the end that the quality DROPPED and im genuinely so sorry pls forgive me wwwwwwwwwwww- i even redrew the last link panels to try and make it better if u can believe it LOL i also was considering making a prose only version of this to make up for it but i honestly don’t know how to translate some bits to that...SO- ah

anyway...yaaaaaaaahhh happy valentine’s day!! hope u still like it despite my clear depletion of life juices dskjghkjag

also teehee ty @udog​ for helping me w vah medoh u smell

[nastybuckybarnes]

Deep End  -  Two

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Smut (DubCon,) Manipulation, Anxiety

Word Count: 3.4K

A/n: Boom part two! I wanna hear what y’all think’s gonna happen with this series

Madness Masterlist

Bad Dream Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

“Good morning, Darling.” Chapped lips press a kiss to your cheek, strong arms winding around your figure and a sharp chin digging into your shoulder.

“Breakfast smells delicious.” You only hum, trying to get your hands to stop shaking.

“Is it eggs?!” Sarah bounds down the stairs excitedly, running straight for your legs.

Steve intercepts her, tossing her up in the air then catching her in his arms again.

She erupts in a fit of giggles and squeals as he starts tickling her, and you find yourself biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying anything to him.

“Eggs and bacon and pancakes only for you, Princess!” He exclaims, kissing her cheek then setting her back on her feet.

“Do I still go to school?” Sarah asks, climbing up onto one of the barstools and kicking her legs.

“Yes, sweetie, you still have to go to school. We’re gonna get you back to school soon, there’s just some things that... your dad... and I need to discuss first, okay? But today, you can relax at home, eat your breakfast and explore the house if you want.” She nods her head eagerly, little hands holding her fork as you slide a plate of food over to her.

You portion some out for Steve too, grinding your teeth together in distaste.

You scoured the house for anything that could be used against him but came up completely empty-handed. Rat poison, bleach, Lysol. Nothing.

He takes his plate with a smile, his free hand gripping your waist and turning you to him slightly.

He leans down, lips pressed against yours for a brief gentle moment before pulling away and sticking his tongue out at a snickering Sarah.

He sits down beside Sarah and starts eating, his eyes boring holes into your back as you gather some food for yourself. As you’re getting ready to sit down, he stands up, unlocking a drawer by the sink and grabbing a bottle of something.

Your heart races in your chest and you hold your fork just the tiniest bit tighter, prepared to use it as a weapon if you need to.

He turns back to you with a smile, setting two small pills on your napkin, away from Sarah’s curious gaze.

“Take them with your food,” he instructs, kissing your forehead then sitting back down between you and your daughter.

"Morgan’s gonna get dropped off for a little while, Sarah. She’s around your age and I think you two will get along great. You guys can play while your mother and I talk, okay?” She bobs her head up and down, shovelling the eggs into her mouth.

“Good.”

~*~

“They’re really hitting it off,” Steve says with a smile, watching as his daughter and her new friend play in the backyard.

You hesitantly come up beside him, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“I-I’m always nervous about her making friends. She’s never really had problems with it but...” You trail off, taking a step back as he turns around to face you.

“Tony’s got Morgan enrolled in a private school, says it’s really good. I was thinking we could send Sarah there too.” You bite your bottom lip and shrug. “I-I don’t know how I feel about private schools. What are the reviews like? And are they strict? I don’t want her... all I want is for her to have a normal childhood. That’s all I want.” Steve’s face softens and he nods, taking your hand and ushering you to the living room.

“It’s all gonna be okay. I know it’s gonna take some getting used to, but it’ll all work out in the end, you’ll see.”

You take a couple of deep breaths, wanting so desperately to believe him but you know better.

“Tony says the school’s really good, and it’s not super strict. The kids still get to have fun and make friends while learning. I think we should give it a shot and if she doesn’t like it we’ll find another school for her to go to.” You nod, eyes fluttering over to the window looking over the backyard.

“Now, I think you and I need to set down some ground rules, okay?” You turn to him, your guard up in an instant.

His face is calm, but you still don’t trust him.

“Sarah’s going to be at school all day, I’ve gotta go to work, which means you’re going to be here to look after the house. My beautiful housewife.” You furrow your brows, “What am I supposed to do here all day?” He looks around with pursed lips.

“Cook and clean? Keep the house looking nice, maybe you could start a garden if you want. But soon you’ll have less time for moving around and more time for...” he trails off, his hand coming to rest on your stomach.

“You’re gonna give me another baby, gonna carry it in that beautiful body of yours. And when the baby gets here you’ll have your hands full so you may want to start planning for that now.”

You’ve got no choice in this.

“D-did you keep any of Sarah’s old baby furniture?” You ask softly, fighting back tears.

“No, I gave it to Nat and Bucky cause they were talking about adopting. But you can buy more. I’ll give you my card and that can be your task. When Sarah’s at school and you’re done with cleaning, you can start setting up the new baby’s room.” He says it like it’s the most prestigious task he could give and you should be thanking him for the opportunity.

“Now, one last thing...” He eyes you for a moment then shakes his head.

“Your old wardrobe is going to be gotten rid of. I don’t want to see you in these leggings or jeans. I’ll have Nat bring over some clothes that are more acceptable, but until then, there should be a few decent dresses still in the closet from... before.” His eyes dark the tiniest bit at the mention of how things were.

“I want you to go change, then gather up all your old clothes. Once that’s done, you can start making lunch. I’m going to run out to grab a few things for dinner, we’re having guests over tonight, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour, okay?”

You say nothing, eyes focused on the floor.

He grabs your chin roughly and forces you to look at him, his eyes blazing.

“I asked you a fucking question, dear. You’d better answer me before I get angry.”

You swallow hard then nod, “o-okay. I will.”

He nods and lets go of your face with a smile, rising to his feet and fixing the sleeves of his shirt.

“Good. I’m thinking pasta for dinner.”

~*~

You’re wearing a yellow sundress that comes just past your knees. It flows with every step you take and you’ve gotta admit that it’s quite pretty. You hate that he chose it, though.

You set the dining room table silently, mind racing. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice you’re not alone until a hand is grabbing the bottom of your dress.

“Mommy, did you hear me?” You gasp, jumping in surprise then shaking your head.

“No, Sarah, I didn’t. Mommy was just thinking. Sorry, what did you say?” She huffs a breath.

“Daddy said that Aunty Nat is coming over for dinner! Do you think she’ll bring ice cream?” Your heart clenches and you sigh.

“I uh... I don’t know. You’ll have to go ask... your father.”

“Ask me what?” Sarah turns to him and lifts her arms, giggling happily when he scoops her up in his arms.

“When Aunty Nat comes is she gonna bring ice cream?”

“Well, I don’t know if she’ll bring ice cream, but maybe after dinner we can all go out and get an ice cream cone. How does that sound?” She claps her hands together in excitement, squealing when she hears the front door open.

“Knock knock!” A female voice calls.

You swallow hard, trying not to let your anger get the better of you as Sarah shimmies out of her father’s grip and rushes to the door.

“Aunty Nat!” The redhead picks her up and spins her around.

“Hey, pumpkin! How’s my favourite girl doing?”

You walk back to the stove, stirring the noodles and imagining how satisfying it would be to dump the boiling water on the traitorous redhead.

“How’s dinner coming along?” Steve asks, his hands finding your hips.

“Just about done. Everyone can sit down, it’ll only be a minute more.” He nods, kissing your temple and opening the fridge to grab drinks.

“Hey, pal.” You stiffen, too many memories filling you at the voice.

“Hey, Buck. Glad you could make it.” You keep your back to the brunet, not wanting to see him, to remember what happened any more than you already have to.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests, dear?” Steve asks, one hand grabbing the waistline of your dress and tugging. You reluctantly turn around to face the brunet just as the redhead walks into the room.

“Well?” Steve asks, looking at you expectantly. You say nothing, glaring daggers at Natasha. She meets your gaze for a moment then looks away, knowing full well what she’s done.

“Dinner’s ready.” Is all you say, yanking out of Steve’s grip and turning back to the stove.

“It’s nice to see you again too, (Y/n),” Bucky says, walking past you and into the dining room.

Natasha brings Sarah after him, leaving you and Steve alone.

“You and I will need to have a long conversation once they leave,” he hisses. “If your attitude doesn’t improve, then you’re going to need to be punished for it.”

You turn and look up at him with defiant eyes.

“I’m wearing your stupid dress and I’m playing your stupid game. What more do you want from me? You’ve got me and my daughter held hostage in your goddamn dollhouse and-” He grabs you by the throat, shaking his head at you.

“Fine. I’ll fucking teach you now then.”

He shoves you aside and walks into the dining room, a smile on his face.

“She’s just gonna bring dinner out. Then she and I need to have a little chat before we join you.” You reluctantly bring the food out, if only so Sarah can eat. You’ve hardly set the steaming dishes down before Steve’s grabbing your hand and yanking you through the house and up the stairs.

Your heart races in your chest, fear coursing through your veins at what he may have planned for you.

Flashes of different ways he’s punished you run through your mind and you feel your eyes fill with tears as he shoves you onto his bed.

His chest is heaving, with anger or exertion, you can’t tell.

“S-Steve I’m sorry. P-please don’t hurt me.” He watches you for a moment then shakes his head.

“You know I can’t tolerate that kind of behaviour.” You crawl back, tears dripping down your cheeks.

“I-I’m just, please! I’m scared and tired a-and I don’t have any friends and m-my dad is-is...” You shake your head, hoping he has a shred of decency left inside of himself.

“Please!” He stares at you long and hard then sighs. “You know I love you, and I love Sarah with my entire heart. But I can’t tolerate this rude behaviour. I know it’s a big transition for you, and I’m willing to be patient, but you can’t treat our guests that way. Rudeness directed at me is different, but you have no right to treat Bucky and Natasha the way you did. That’s why you’re being punished. I’ll forgive the snappy behaviour towards me, but not them.”

You shake your head and shove your face in your hands, sobs bubbling free from your chest.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.” He nods, turning to the dresser and pulling out a familiar box.

It’s the box he keeps his torture toys in, you realize.

“Lay down on your stomach. If you listen, your punishment won’t be nearly as severe.” You sniffle and nod, rolling over and laying down on your tummy.

He flips your dress up and yanks your panties down your legs, eyeing your ass for a moment.

“Bucky and Nat are important members of this family, and you will treat them as such, do you understand?” You nod, crying out in pain and thrashing away from him as a leather paddle comes down hard on your ass.

“Am I going to have to tie you to the bed?” You can’t answer, you’re too busy trying not to choke on your own snot.

He grabs your wrists roughly and ties them to a hoop on the headboard, successfully leaving you at his mercy.

He smacks you again, and again, then a fourth time, and you squirm away as much as you can.

“When you’re good, you don’t get punished.”

He delivers sixteen more impossibly hard hits, then tosses the paddle onto the ground and climbs onto the bed, cock raging in his pants.

His knees push your legs apart and you shake your head, tugging against your restraints desperately as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Huh, would ya look at that?” You press your face into the mattress, humiliation filling you as he rubs his cock through your wet folds.

“Feels like somebody enjoyed that a bit more than they were letting on, huh?” You shake your head, crying out as he sheaths himself fully with only one thrust.

Your walls burn at the intrusion, body instinctively creating more moisture to lubricate the violation, but that’s not how Steve sees it.

“Fuck, your body misses me, huh? Hates it when my cock isn’t fucking you.” He grabs your hips and hoists them up, then starts a punishing pace, forcing you to take every painful inch of him.

“Fuck, feel how tight you are... squeezin’ me so nice...” Every hit of his hips against your ass makes you cry out in pain, your entire lower half on fire.

“M’gonna fill you with my cum then lock it in. You’re gonna give me another fucking baby. Gonna grow nice and big.” He picks up the pace, eyebrows furrowed and face screwed up with pleasure.

His hips still, warmth exploding within you as he reaches his climax.

He stays inside you for a long while, catching his breath while his cock softens, then he slowly pulls out.

“You know,” he begins, rooting around in the box for something, “it’s much more effective if you orgasm too. Really sucks it all up in you and improves the chances of fertilization.” A switch flips and then there’s a constant buzzing noise filling your ears.

Right as you realize what it is, he’s got the vibrator pressed against your clit.

You jolt away from it, hips wiggling at the stimulation.

“N-no,” you whisper uselessly, inhaling sharply when he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you steady, forcing the vibrator against you.

“Look at that... feels good, huh?” You don’t reply, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the coil in your belly tightens, your toes curling and your back arching, forcing the device against you even more.

Your mouth drops open and your eyes roll back as your body starts to convulse, a powerful orgasm tearing through your entire being.

“There it is,” Steve whispers, watching with dark eyes as he forces an orgasm out of you.

Your pussy flutters and clenches, clit swollen and aching when he finally removes the vibrator.

You’re still recovering from the intensity of your climax when he presses something cool to your entrance.

He forces the plug inside of you, despite your protests, then yanks your underwear back up your legs.

“Now c’mon. We’ve got guests to entertain.” He unties your wrists then helps you to your feet, watching in satisfaction as you struggle to walk down the stairs.

You rub your raw wrists, heart racing in your chest as you slowly walk into the dining room.

Bucky and Nat each look up at you, the redhead turning away while the brunet eyes you, a dark look in his eyes.

Steve’s hand remains possessively on the small of your back, and you carefully sit down, wincing at the burn in your backside and the throbbing of your core.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Steve says, a smile on his face as you portion out some food for him and yourself.

“It’s alright. Things happen,” Bucky replies, eyes stuck on your face.

“It’s been a while since we... since I last saw you, (Y/n). How have you been?” You swallow hard, eyes focused on your plate as you answer Bucky’s question.

“I’ve been fine. How have you been?” He takes a moment to answer, and in the thick silence of the room you can hear the metal plates in his arm whirring.

“I’ve been good. Happy that Steve has you back now.” You nod, forcing yourself to chew and swallow a mouthful of pasta.

“Mommy I’m full! Can we go for ice cream now? Aunty Nat and Uncle Bucky said we could!” You nod, pushing your almost untouched food away and standing up quickly.

“J-just let me clean up, then we can go for ice cream.” You start gathering the dishes, eager to leave the room and put some distance between yourself and the people at the table.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Nat says, rising to her feet and gathering the other half of the dishes.

You ignore her, grabbing the remainder of the food and starting to pack it up in containers in the kitchen.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry.” You shove the food into the fridge and turn to face her, tears welling up in your eyes.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? You’re fucking sorry?! I’m right back where I fought tooth and fucking nail to escape because of you! You’re the reason I’m back here with him, why Sarah’s back here and why he’s hurting me all over again and all you have to say for yourself is ‘I’m sorry’?!” Your voice is whispered, but the words may as well be shouted.

She shakes her head, hating the truth behind your words.

“Y-you don’t understand, (Y/n). I had to.” You sniffle and scrub a fallen tear off of your cheek.

“Or what? Would he kill that rapist boyfriend of yours? You swore you’d keep it a secret and now, because of you, my father’s dead and I’m stuck with a man who’s going to torture me and possibly my daughter as well. So don’t you fucking dare tell me you had to or that you’re sorry because those are both lies.”

You take a few deep breaths, walking to the sink and starting to wash the dishes.

“I trusted you. And you led him straight to us. I don’t care what you say or what you do, I’ll never fucking forgive you. If it were up to me, you’d be left at that cabin to bleed out. It’s what you fucking deserve after what you’ve done.”

She’s silent, standing there behind you for a long moment before turning and leaving the kitchen.

Your hands shake with the intensity of your outburst and you have to stop yourself from crying, chest rising and falling rapidly as your emotions get the better of you.

Your vision starts to blur, soapy hands gripping the edge of the counter tight enough to hurt. You lean over slightly, trying desperately to suck in more air as anxiety fills and overwhelms you.

“(Y/n)?” You don’t notice his hands on you until he’s pulling your hands off of the counter.

“I-I can’t.”

His hands find your waist, trying to usher you away from the sink, and your ears begin to ring.

Your knees give out and you crumble in his arms, him easily supporting your weight as you lose consciousness.

“Buck, take Sarah out for ice cream now.” His voice holds the same type of authority as it does when they go on missions, and the brunet pops his head into the kitchen to investigate for a moment before nodding.

“C’mon Sarah. Do you know what you want?” Bucky asks, taking Sarah’s hand and leading her to the front door.

“Do you?” She sasses.

“Well missy, I’m gonna get two scoops of chocolate, and Aunty Nat's getting mint chocolate chip.”

“I want cookie dough!”

The front door closes with a soft click and Steve sighs, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Impatient Acts: Part 1

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word count: 1,724

Includes: phone sex, degrading, captain kink and masturbation with fingers and strap on

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How much longer do you think you'll be away?" You ask with a pout as you role onto your back, staring up at the dull ceiling and imaging your girlfriend somewhere far above it.

"I don't know, baby. Could be a couple days, maybe more...a lot more." She spoke into the device. Even though you were disappointed you were still quick to realise her tired voice sounded a lot like her morning voice, something that always turned you on to no ends.

Right now Carol was getting ready to rest for the night, if that was even a thing in space, while you lay on your bed in the midday summer heat.

The blonde had been away for a few weeks now and you missed her so much. You missed everything about the captain and there seemed to be nothing you could do to fix that. It seemed cuddling her pillow was only enough for when your were falling asleep, and even then you wanted to feel her strong arms wrapped around you.

Not to mention her being away for so long was leaving you incredibly sexually frustrated. You had told Carol this countless times when she had been away, but she just laughed it off before reiterated her number one rule: no touching the captain's property.

Just thinking about her referring to you and your body in such a way made a fire ignite between your legs.

"I miss you." You spoke quietly into the mic on your phone, closing your eyes and trying to invision her right now. She practically always slept in sweatpants and a vest, even in the winter when she was able to heat up her body with her powers (which was like sleeping with a warm blanket wrapped around you). Although sometimes she might not have those sweatpants on...and maybe even nothing beneath. You bite your lip at the thought.

"I miss you too." She said in that morning voice that encouraged the need you felt.

You were only wearing a loose vest and panties. You had no plans of going out, you were home alone and the summer heat wouldn't have been bearable to you in anything else.

"So much." You whispered into the mic as your fingers trailed delicately across your bare thigh and you imagined the motion being from Carol.

Speaking of who, the blonde was quick to catch on to the nature of your speech, knowing all the signs of you being horny you didn't even know you showed.

You heard her move position in her bed and imagined her moving to straddle your waist to kiss down your neck, or making herself comfortable between your legs to slide her strap in easier.

Your eyes flickered open to eye up the closet that you knew Carol had left one of her straps in as she spoke.

"What are you doing?" She asked suspiciously but knowing full damn well what you wanted to do.

"Nothing." You replied with a smile and your best innocent voice. You contemplated getting up and heading for the closet as you said that, but decided to just listen to Carol's voice instead...for now.

"You better be." She said with warning etched into her tone. You shivered at her words slightly as your fingers wandered over your clothed folds that were now drenched with your arousal.

"Or what?" You asked with a smirk and all the confidence you could gather; knowing full damn well you were going to pay for it later. But you were so god damn horny and Carol's voice was all the help you needed, the consequences would be another day's problem.

"Or you're going to regret it." She stated.

You scoffed at her words, not believing the punishment she was going to give could possibly not be worth the orgasm you were going to have tonight.

"It?" You questioned, wanting to hear her spell it out to you. Dirty talking would definetly get you off.

"If you touch that needy little pussy of yours without your captain's permission," she started - her voice getting lower and abandoning her tired tone now she was paying you full attention, "then when I get home I'll make your punishments so bad you'll beg for my forgiveness like the desperate whore you are while crying out for it to stop. You think I've punished you bad before? Things will get unimaginably worse for you if you disobey your captain, slut." She finished, bitterness engraved in her voice that made you bite you lip to stop yourself whimpering pathetically.

You knew you should stop. But the hormones were clouding your judgement and you could physically feel your arousal ruining your panties.

You didn't respond to Carol, you couldn't. You were completely unable to form any words as your fingertips finally dipped under your panties and stroked the wetness of your pussy.

"Well?" Carol asked expectantly. The moment of silence was filled with unbearable tension.

Your clit was throbbing, your pussy walls were clenching around nothing and a thin layer of sweat was forming along your body. You weren't going to wait any longer.

"No." You whispered. There was more silence as Carol didn't seem to believe you would defy such explicit orders, you always obeyed her.

"No?" She questioned, her voice stoic.

Your fingers stroked your folds more until you had collected enough of your juices. With ease, you slipped two fingers inside your touch deprived pussy and gave a long moan as they sunk deeper into you.

Carol growled lowly into the mic before speaking again. "Don't you fucking dare, y/n." She spat.

"I'm so wet, captain." You smiled as you started a slow pace with your fingers, not wanting to overwhelm your most sensitive part after weeks without contact.

"Stop." She said firmly but the anger in her voice only encouraged you. You could imagine her jaw clenched to enhance that prominent jawline. Her fists clenched and probably dieing to be choking you with them. And despite her objections, you bet she was wet.

You curled your fingers ever so slightly and shivered as they brushed against your most sensitive part. You sighed in bliss and moaned once your pace increased.

"Captain..." You whimpered, your thrusts becoming rougher as you clenched around your fingers occasionally.

"It's not worthit, y/n. Do not cum on those fucking fingers." She spat, prouncing all words to the t slowly and deliberately.

Her words planted an idea in your mind and you grinned mischeviously.

"Yes, captain." You replied and gradually pulled your fingers away, your pussy instantly clenching and protesting.

"Good. Now go to sleep." She ordered but you ignore her as you got off the bed and went over to the closet with one of Carol's straps. You bit your lip at the site of the perfect silicone and took it back to the bed.

You stripped off your panties and flung them across the room before laying down again and being thankful Carol hadn't hung up, probably dissatisfied by you not responding to her.

"I miss you fucking me with your cock, captain." You said truthfully into the mic. You didn't miss the uneven breath from Carol that she tried to fix.

"I'm glad you left my favourite behind." You smirked as your fingers stroked the toy.

"Don't even think about it." Carol warned but you disregarded her again as you placed the strap at your entrance, not even needing lube because of how wet you were and especially as you all but edged yourself just a minute prior. Granted, Carol rarely decided to use it either.

You made sure your head was tilted towards you phone that was close to you so your increasingly frustrated girlfriend could hear how your breathing was increasing in anticipation.

Her additional warnings fell on death ears as you only focused on those sound of her voice rather than the message. You were faintly aware of the threats and her telling you you were a disrespectful whore.

You moaned in response to her when the strap pressed itself further against your pussy lips as they eagerly spread themselves apart for the silicone.

You moaned even louder when the intruder was pushing it's way inside you, all the time imagining Carol above you while she whispered dirty truths to you like a secret.

"Captain." You whimpered as you pushed the strap on further, the result being your walls clamping down on it and your juices aiding it all.

You could hear Carol's breathing increase too, clearly turned on by hearing you fuck yourself with her strap and getting off to imaging her. But she would never admit that.

"It feels so good." You moaned as you pulled the strap out, only to have it return with force you hadn't realise you could conjour.

Her breathing hitches as she hears the wet sounds your pussy makes when you thrust the already soaking toy into your needy pussy. You do this continuously as you set a steady pace and lift your hips up slightly to give yourself better access.

Your pace doesn't falter and the strap continues the thrust into you, not nearly matching the pace Carol would give but knowing she'd up that when she gets back. The very thought of how rough she would be with you makes you gush with wetness and amplifies the sounds your pussy is making.

You moan louder into the mic as you mutter Carol's name over and over, as though doing so could make her appear.

"I'm gonna cum." You breathe out heavily and whimper as you approach you high.

"Don't." Carol orders and you can practically hear her teeth gritting between words.

With that command, you whole body tenses up and you back arches. You moan the loudest you had all night as you reach you first orgasm in weeks. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" You practically scream as you clench desperetly around the strap as you cum hard on the toy, shaking in pleasure as some of your white, sticky liquid escapes around the sides of the toy and spreads across your thigh as you clench them together after pulling the strap out.

You hadn't even regained your breath when Carol speaks her final words that night.

"You're going to regret that."

My Captain has ended the call.

Part two