#writing every sentence was like drawing blood

[platosarse]

Submitted the first essay on Tuesday. Was definitely not my best work, am expecting perhaps a low-to-mid merit for it. I’ve got two ideas so far for the second, longer essay due towards the end of Jan, so will see how that goes…

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 11

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10

Steve waits until everyone’s gone home to open the letter. Chrissy had ribbed him over not sharing but, no matter how supportive she is, she just doesn’t get it—she can’t. No matter what she’s shared, her and Jeff are clearly dating. And even if they hadn’t been, Jeff likes girls. The worst thing that would’ve happened is him turning her down.

With Eddie? The worst thing that could happen is total annihilation.

And Steve’s never been good at holding himself back. He cares fast, and he cares hard, and he can never quite stop, no matter what changes, or how much distance he puts between himself and the other person. Look at Nancy, and Tommy, and Carol, and his parents, and every single relationship he’s had where he’s all in, and the other person never meets him. He doesn’t even need halfway, hell, he’d take a quarter.

But even that’s never how it works out. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steve Harrington is too much, always.

So, if his fingers shake as he opens the letter, who can blame him?

But, inside is everything he could have ever asked for—Because you’re it, baby. He caresses the words, fingers trembling, heart shuddering in his chest to a beat that sounds a lot like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

He knows it’s stupid. This letter isn’t for Steve, not really. It’s Chrissy’s face Eddie pictured when he wrote it, Chrissy’s lips he imagined kissing, Chrissy’s hand he imagined holding. But, it’s hard to remember, when there’s such longing on the page in front of him.

He doesn’t know what to say, thoughts running too fast to pick them out and write them down. He tries, pen stuttering over the page in half-formed sentences, until he’s left with:

  Eddie —

  You don’t want to know what I

  Someone has loved you. I love

  I’ll take anything you

  Fuck

Hee crumples the letter up into a ball, and tosses it across the room toward the trash bin. He shoots, he misses, he lays down with all the lights still on.

Steve stares down at Eddie’s letter, helpless in the face of the bubbling hope, unwilling to squash it. He folds the letter back up and puts it under his pillow, hoping for dreams, just like Eddie had said.

He doesn’t.

Steve’s tired the next morning, zoning out during class, and shuffling through the halls like a zombie. Chrissy keeps sending him worried looks, and even Robin asks if he’s okay in Mrs. Click’s class, which she was right, they do share.

Steve tells her he’s just tired, and she drops it, but there’s a sad, knowing smile on her face.

It happens at lunch. Eddie jumps up on his lunch table, boots thudding loudly against its metal surface, drawing all eyes in the room toward him. Everyone looks away, familiar with his tabletop rants by now, but Steve can’t look away.

Eddie’s magnetic when he’s like this, a black hole swirling everything up in its path. Steve doesn’t want to miss a thing, barely blinks as Eddie begins the familiar walk across the Hellfire table.

“Forced conformity, folks—it’s what’s killing the kids!” he cries, clapping fast to punctuate the sentence. Across Steve’s own table, Tommy boos, gaining momentum when the people around him laugh and join in. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty, Hagan, you’re the worst of all.”

He’s grinning, but it’s not the dimpled one. He’s just baring his teeth, a predator scenting blood. “You’re all so focused on shooting balls in laundry baskets, like that’s all there is, but guess what? You’re going to be a washed-up has-been before you’re even out of this school.”

He takes a few steps forward, eyes straying from Tommy farther up the table, making it clear he’s talking to all of them. “You don’t realize that daddy’s money’s gonna dry up, and you’ll be left with a wife and three kids you don’t even like, reliving the old glory days like they were even worth remembering.”

“Come say that to my face, Munson!” Tommy cries, standing up from the table as the rest of them egg him on.

Eddie makes a little rock and roll symbol and smirks, like that’s exactly what he wanted Tommy to say. “And you know what? That’s all you’ll deserve for the shit you’ve pulled. A sad lonely life with your sad flaccid dick.”

And suddenly, he’s looking right at Steve, gaze piercing straight through Steve and into his soft, squishy underbelly. There’s blood in the water, and by Eddie’s laugh, he can taste it. “You’ve earned it,” he says, not even blinking, his eyes so intense Steve can’t breath with it. “After all, once a jock, always a jock.”

Chrissy links their fingers and squeezes his hand beneath the table. Steve blinks, spell broken as he squeezes her back in thanks. He looks down at his remaining chicken nuggets, appetite gone.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks, barely audible with all the continued heckling.

Steve glances up just in time to watch Eddie jump down from the table and plop his ass down like none of it happened at all. He’s laughing as Jeff and Gareth pat his back, but he looks deflated, like the whole spectacle took everything out of him.

“I will be,” Steve replies, pushing his lunch tray away.

If nothing else, he has something to write now.

*** 

Eddie can’t get the look on Harrington’s face out of his mind. He’d been at the top of his game, riling the jocks up enough that Hagan had jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. But, then he’d looked at Harrington, and it’d all gone wrong.

The guy was drooping into himself, mouth down-turned, eyes like a kicked puppy. Eddie stuttered, got caught up in him, something unnameable stuck in his throat. Eddies doesn’t even know what he’d said after that, couldn’t hear himself think much less speak, until Harrington finally looked down at the tabletop and their eye contact broke. 

Now he’s stumbling over his words, trying not to even look Harrington’s way as he finishes off his speech. It lacks the usual oomph, but Eddie doesn’t care; he just wants the whole thing to end.

Eddie stumbles down into his chair, shuddering through his smile as Gareth and Doug elbow him in the side, ribbing him good-naturedly. He chokes out a laugh, and doesn’t look at the jock’s table for the rest of lunch.

The next time he sees Harrington, there’s another complication to contend with in the form of Robin Buckley, best known for her proficiency on the trumpet and quirky outfits. And now? She’s best known for attaching herself like a barnacle to Harrington’s side.

Except, if she was a barnacle, Harrington might at least try to shake her off. But, no. He just smiles at her, and whispers with her, as she inserts herself between Chrissy and Harrington like she belongs there.

Chrissy, for her part, seems to like the girl as well.

Eddie doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend what the hell’s happening, and it makes something squirmy and viscous sink into his stomach every time Buckley inserts herself between the pair, every time they smile at her.

But, they still stop to talk to him in between classes, so Eddie tries to drop it.

“It just doesn’t make sense!” Eddie cries, phone clutched to his ear, not even letting Gareth get a word out before he’s continuing the conversation Jeff had rudely interrupted by showing up to lunch. “What the hell is Harrington’s deal?”

“Dude, you’re like, obsessed,” Gareth replies, clearly talking around a mouthful of whatever after-school snack he’d chosen this time.

“Is he trying to date every girl in school at the same time?” he whines, yanking on his hair hard enough that his scalp tingles.

“You’re just jealous,” he replies, and that same squirmy feeling makes Eddie wriggle his whole body, like there’s a chill in the air.

Is the heater on the fritz again?

“Of who?” Eddie screeches before quieting down, peeking into the living room to make sure Uncle Wayne hasn’t stirred. He hasn’t, but Eddie still keeps his voice lowered as he continues hissing into the receiver. “Of Harrington? Don’t be absurd.”

Gareth laughs, “I don’t know, man, but this whole thing is just getting weird.”

“I know, right? What are they up to?” Eddie asks, ignoring Gareth’s muttered “not what I meant,” like he hadn’t said anything at all.

He never figures it out because Buckley never comes around—not to band practice, or Hellfire, or any of the other times Chrissy and Eddie (and Harrington) are in the same place. Eddie should be relieved. He’s not.

Everything is spiraling out of his control.

But, the letters keep coming, and Eddie keeps devouring them

  Eddie —

  I really liked your tabletop speech this week, even though you made fun of the jocks. Some of them definitely deserve it. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

  You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’. I love your laugh, I thought about it all day. Kind of like when your favorite song gets stuck in your head.

  I know I’ve said it before, but I do really like you. But, if you knew me, I don’t think you’d like me. It’s okay, though. I’m stupid like that—always putting my whole heart into people who don’t feel the same.

  I’m sorry, this is probably not the letter you hoped to get. I’ll be better next time, promise.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. Put your response in the World Atlas, the long one that they have to put sideways on the bookshelf (because no matter where you are, I’ll always think of you).

They all make something flutter within him like his lungs are growing wings and flapping themselves out of his body entirely. Even as it leaves him breathless and aching, he wants more of it, longs for it.

It’s just—she sounds so sad, lately, like she’s losing hope in this at all.

All Eddie wants to do is reassure her. So, he keeps writing back, pulling his heart off his sleeve and flinging it down on the page for Chrissy to read, hoping he’ll somehow see those same feelings reflected in her eyes.

He never does.

So, he pokes; he wheedles; he pines for a girl on a page that never quite stands before him. And he pours it all onto the page.

  Secret Admirer,

  I don’t think it’s all jocks—you’re too nice for that. But even you have to admit that a lot of the jocks are only doing it to be at the top of the food chain. Guys like Carver and Harrington Hagaon? They don’t even care about sports, they just want peons to fawn over them. But, there’s people like you, too, so maybe more of them are better than I expect.

  I can’t imagine knowing who you are and not liking you. You’re the nicest girl I know. You don’t have to tell me who you are, but if you do? I promise, it’ll all be okay.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

  P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s not enough—something is breaking open in him that words on the page can’t quite mend.

“I’m going to ask her out,” Eddie says once Harrington and Chrissy have left the latest Hellfire session, still inexplicably coming despite never playing.

Jeff chokes on his sip of soda, coughing harshly enough that some of it comes out of his mouth and splatters onto the table.

“Gross, dude,” Doug says, but still pats his back like he’s burping a baby.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks, tone disbelieving.

Eddie makes crazy eyes at him, trying to psychically beam all his thoughts into Gareth’s head like, yes I’m serious, and, you know about the notes, why are you looking at me like that, and, what the hell else am I supposed to do to crack this mystery wide open?

“That is such a bad idea,” Jeff cuts in once he’s got his coughing under wraps.

Eddie whips towards him, scowling at his best friend as he replies, “you’re just jealous.”

Jeff sighs, heaves himself out of his chair, says a quick, “whatever, dude,” and walks out of the room without a backward glance.

“Aren’t you his ride?” Doug asks.

Eddie flaps his hand in dismissal and replies, “forget about him,” despite his gut sinking down into his boots at Jeff’s words.

“Well, how are you going to do it?” Gareth asks, the only one of his friends to seem even remotely excited.

Eddie keeps flapping his hand and replies, “never you mind.”

That even gets Gareth to scoff, knowing Eddie well enough to know that means he’s got nothing.

But there’s a thought niggling away at his brain: why not finish this thing the same way it had begun?

On his way out the door, he drops his latest letter to Chrissy into the trash bin and doesn’t look back. He’s got a new letter to write.

*** 

“You know this is juvenile, right?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy pulls the world atlas off the shelf with a roll of her eyes.

Her and Steve had fought about him picking up the letters alone, and Chrissy had won the way she always does when it comes to matters of his safety. He’s sulking in the parking lot now, waiting for her to retrieve it for him.

But, there’s no letter behind the cover. She flips through the whole book, then shakes it, pages flapping wildly, to see if anything falls out. Nothing does. No note, at least not yet.

Steve will be disappointed.

“They’re boys, of course it’s juvenile,” Chrissy says, turning away from the shelf to make pointed eye contact.

If boys are stupid, Jeff is the stupidest of them all. She thinks she can see a tinge of red to his dark cheeks that makes her smile. Chrissy turns away to pick up her book bag where she’d left it on the closet table.

“There’s no letter?” Jeff asks, sounding surprised.

Chrissy sighs, responding, “not yet. I’ll have to check back tomorrow.”

Steve will be crushed. He’s been weird about the letters since he’d begun writing the first drafts alone. Even with the minor polishing Chrissy puts on them after, they’re Steve’s words and feelings, no matter what Eddie thinks. And it shows in the way he takes them home and pours over them for days before slinking back to her with the original letter and his response, cheeks rosy as she fixes his spelling errors.

“Eddie’s planning on asking you out, you know,” Jeff says.

There’s a clatter behind one of the shelves, but Chrissy barely notices. “He said that?” she asks, turning sharply toward him, hand still clutching her book bag. 

Jeff nods, lips pursed. God, what are they going to do? This whole thing has spiraled so far out of either of their control. Chrissy had known when she offered that there was a chance Eddie would catch on—that he’d see her leaving a note, or catch her picking one up.

Better her than Steve, she’d thought then. No matter the awkward situation she’s found herself in, she still thinks that, even more so now. Better her than Steve. Steve, who’s proven himself kinder than she ever imagined, who would be run out of town, her ex-boyfriend at the head of the mob.

Chrissy can hear someone shuffling out of sight, feet shuffling on carpet far too close for comfort, so she steps closer to Jeff and lowers her voice. 

“Do you know when?” Chrissy asks, anxiety leaching into her. She needs to talk to Steve. Flirting with Eddie is one thing, but going on a date with him? Going out with him? That’s a whole other monster.

And then, of course, there’s Jeff.

“No, he hasn’t told me anything,” he replies, something small and hurt in his voice.

Chrissy’s never had a best friend, but Steve’s given her a little taste of it, and she’d be hurt if he didn’t tell her something like this.

“He’s probably embarrassed,” Chrissy says, aching to reach out and touch, but they’re in public, and Jason could be lurking behind any corner; the last thing she wants is to put a target on another person she cares about’s back. “You’re still his best friend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, but when she bumps their shoulders together gently, his lips quirk up.

He smiles over at her, bumping their shoulders together himself as he asks, “drive me home?” as if it isn’t a foregone conclusion. “And stay for dinner?”

That gives her pause. She can feel her cheeks flushing. Despite taking the next step in their relationship, Jeff’s never invited her in, not where his parents and brother are. They haven’t even really discussed what they are, not with this whole secret admirer thing hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

But she wants to. She wants to hold his hand in the halls, go to his house for study dates and dinner, kiss him somewhere where they don’t have to be furtive.

It’s all stolen moments with Jeff, kisses and conversations made in haste when all she wants to do is linger. So, she says, “yes, please,” and bounces out into the parking lot.

Steve isn’t there, and neither is his car.

“Maybe he went home?” Jeff asks, but he looks just as unsure as she feels.

“We’ll call him when we get to your house,” she asserts. She’s relieved when all he does is nod and follow her to her car. 

She’s got a best friend to find.

*** 

Robin knows something’s gone wrong as soon as she sees that dangerous gleam in Carver’s eyes. She knows whatever it is, it’s about to go catastrophically wrong when she follows his line of sight to where Eddie stands chatting away with one of his friends.

Still, she stands frozen, watching in breathless horror as Eddie waves goodbye to his friend, that familiar happy grin on his face as he slides into the driver’s seat of his van. Heavy music blares from the rolled-down window as his van sputters to noisy life.

When she turns back to get her eyes on Carver, he’s gone. She spots him only as Eddie peels out of the parking lot, Carver’s douchey car hot on his heels.

Robin turns and runs back into the school. She’d spotted another douchey car still loitering in the parking lot; Steve’s in here somewhere.

She checks the library first, knows from previous confessions that it’s where he and Chrissy work on most of the secret admirer notes. It’s deserted aside from a scattering of freshmen in one corner, and Nancy Wheeler arguing with the librarian about a text the library doesn’t seem to have.

She finds herself in the gym next, unsure if any sports are currently in season, but nice guy or not, Steve’s got jock sensibilities. He likes the gym. There’s a singular kid shooting baskets, but based on the rack of balls off to the side, there might have been more.

She goes to the boy’s locker room without thinking, pushing the swinging door open with sweaty palms and shaking arms.

Inside, she finds boys, all blessedly dressed.

“Ohhh!” they call juvenilely as she stands there, shocked as four pairs of eyes lock on her.

“Girl in the locker room!” someone calls; she’s pretty sure that’s Tommy Hagan’s smug voice, but she barely notices, too caught up in trying to find her boy in the mess of bodies.

“Steve,” Robin strangles out.

Her skin feels tacky with panic sweat, and in the past five minutes of searching, she’s run her fingers through her own hair enough times to leave it sticking on end. She’s sure she looks more like a troll doll than an enticing member of the opposite sex.

“He already left,” a guy she doesn’t recognize responds, eying her up and down. “But I’d be more than happy to help you out.”

As if his meaning wasn’t already clear, he bites his lip and swipes his lip like he’s wiping up drool as all the other boys start “ooooh”ing in unison again. Is that something they’re taught in elementary, or something?

She doesn’t wait for them to continue, just turns and runs out of the locker room, panic nipping at her heels.

She runs back out to the parking lot, out of places to check and desperate to not miss Steve leaving.

That’s where she finds him, leaning casually against his car like Eddie’s life isn’t at stake.

She runs so fast, limbs uncoordinated and breaths coming rapid, that she doesn’t stop in time and hit’s Steve straight in the chest. 

She bounces off, almost falling to the pavement until he grabs her shoulders and steadies her. Steve’s hands feel big on her shoulders, the pressure of his palms pushing her soul back into her body as she takes big, deep gulps.

“What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asks, already looking at her like she’s a wet puppy he’s ready to scoop into his arms and dry off with the shirt on his own back.

There’s too many witnesses, and too many damning words to be said, so all she whispers is, “you need to go, Steve.”

He wrinkles his nose, but something of the gravity of her words must sink in because he leans in without hesitation and meets her pitch as he asks, “where?”

Robin steps even closer, damn-near standing on Steve’s toes as she begins her stilted explanation.

“Jason Carver followed Eddie’s van in his car,” Robin starts, words blurring into each other in her haste to get them out. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but—“

She doesn’t get to finish; Steve bolts to the driver's side door and flings himself into his car without sparing her a second thought.  She can’t blame him.

Robin only hopes he makes it in time.

PART 12

[megalony]

Just Hold On

This is my first time writing for Tyler Owens from Twisters, as I absolutely loved the film. I hope you will all like this.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: Tyler and (Y/n) head out together, just the two of them, away from the bustle of the team. But just as they're getting close to one another, a tornado blunders in their path.

(If anyone has any requests for Twisters I would love to hear them. Feedback is always lovely)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wanna get out of here?"

That one sentence had been enough to spark adrenaline through (Y/n)'s entire system and have her heart working on overload.

It had been something she had been waiting, hoping, praying to hear since the first moment she started to tag along with the 'tornado wranglers' and found herself getting close to the leader of the group. Tyler Owens. The man whose face was on a thousand t-shirts, sold all around the country in every state.

The man who acted like a beacon, like a daredevil who was so eager to put himself into dangerous situations without care or fault. But underneath, there was something endearing and almost bashful. Underneath all the boysterous exterior, there was someone who cared more for the safety of others than himself.

And (Y/n) wanted to be as close to him as she could.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find herself riding alone with Tyler in his modified, beat up truck, but she jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

It was a relief to escape the motel the group had been staying in. No more bonfires outside, no more strange, wild stories that got adapted and emboldened each time they were retold, depending on who told them. And going away from the motel saved (Y/n) from another night alone in her room, unsure what to do with herself.

Those words kept playing around in her head like a record as she sat in the quiet diner opposite Tyler. She wasn't sure why he'd asked her of all people to spend time with him this evening. There were better people he could be around, interesting people, his wrangler friends who never seemed to leave his side.

But none of that mattered now, because he'd asked her and here they were.

Her eyes lifted up from aimlessly staring at her drink to look at Tyler instead. He looked very relaxed. He was slightly slouched down to the left, one hand tapping quietly on the table beside his drink and the other hand drawing patterns on his thigh.

(Y/n) liked his shirt. She liked the black and blood red checkered button up he was wearing and the fact that he had the first three buttons undone. He also had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his lower arms and the veins that were popping up on his skin.

From the closeness, (Y/n) could also see the few scars littering his skin. She could see little white lines slashed against the top of his arms and the deeper white and baby pink scars on his hands that looked like they would have hurt some time ago. She hadn't noticed them before.

From looking at Tyler and seeing all the YouTube videos, everyone would assume he came out of each tornado unscathed. But the scars on his skin gaveaway that he was still human, he still cut and bled and he had indeed been in quite a few scrapes over the years.

"What're you thinking so intently about?" His quiet, gritty voice brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she found herself dragging her eyes up from his arms to look at his eyes instead.

Those pastel green eyes looked unusually wide today. (Y/n) watched his eyes narrow a little as his head tilted at an angle so he could look her up and down in a way that had her stomach turning to mush. And his eyes creased when his lips curved into a low smile that had his cheeks puffing up at the sides.

"Just… just thinking about the chase today, and if it will be the same tomorrow." It seemed like a plausable excuse considering today's tornado had been low level two.

Tyler said those were the better ones to drive into or drive through, as the wind speed was lower and therefore made it easier not to get sucked up into the whirlwind. As much as he liked to drive and run into danger head on, he also seemed to enjoy playing it safe in some ways. He knew when a tornado wasn't safe to go into or when it was time to take shelter rather than run into the winds, as it were.

"And there's me hoping you'd be thinking of me." His tone was playful and his forming smirk was enough to make (Y/n) raise a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

"Why didn't you want to stay at the motel tonight, with the others?"

(Y/n) pushed her drink into the middle of the table so she could fold her arms together and lean forward. Her head inclined as she waited patiently for Tyler to debate the question and think of an answer.

He sat up a bit straighter in the booth, his left hand still quietly tapping away on the end of the table while his other hand shifted to curl around his glass instead. He looked more natural like this when he didn't wear his hat. Although his hat did suit him increadibly well and it gave off a good image, it was still a good chance to see him with his short blond strands roaming free and shifting through the winds when they were outside int he night air.

The diner they had come to was quaint, seemingly in the middle of somewhere and nowhere at the same time. There was a small motel to the left, much smaller than the one they had come from twenty miles down the road. Across the street there was a twenty-four hour store next to a gas station and there was a few scattered houses in the distance. It seemed like a small, compact little place settled right in the middle between two large towns.

Tyler glanced around the diner. He hadn't been here before, but he remembered it was here when they drove past at least three times in the last week. That seemed like a coincidence, a sign telling him he had to stop here at least once and check it out.

There weren't many people here. A young couple at the far end. A mother and daughter the other way. A few workers and one lonesome person at the bar having a few drinks. It was quaint, quiet. Just what they needed after days of chasing tornados and being surrounded by noisy but loving friends.

"Sometimes it's nice to get away." Tyler reached out for his drink while his eyes remained on the girl sitting in front of him.

"What are you getting away from?" She spoke before she could think better of it, but Tyler didn't seem annoyed by her question. Instead, his smirk shifted into a funny half smile, half pout that crinkled the end of his nose.

"Everything… the cameras, the questions, the noise. What about you, what are you getting away from?"

Tyler had been more than intrigued when (Y/n) joined their group. She didn't strike him as the chasing type. The type to go willingly into danger, looking for fun and trouble and answers to nature's mysteries. But that wasn't to say he wasn't happy that she had joined them. She had insight, she had instinct when it came to the changes in weather and the wind patterns and her curiosity for these natural disastrous phenomenon matched Tyler's.

"I'm not, I'm just following your path."

"Right into danger," Tyler twirled his index finger around in circles beside his head with a wicked grin that could make anyone fall to their knees. "You must be crazy."

"Must be." (Y/n) murmured in agreement. There had to be some part of her that was mad or deluded to do this, to do what the rest of Tyler's team was doing. Following him into the line of danger simply because they all believed in him and what he was doing.

But (Y/n) knew it wasn't just a strange, crazed part of her brain that let her follow Tyler's lead, wherever that lead. She knew the other reason she had stuck with them for so long now was because she couldn't will herself to leave. To leave Tyler. He had her heart in his hands and she didn't want it back.

(Y/n) found herself starting to become lost in her thoughts again until Tyler suddenly pushed forward in his seat and leaned over the table. He picked up his glass and downed the last remnants before tapping it against the table with a wide grin.

"Shall we?"

It wasn't clear whether Tyler was planning on getting back in the truck and going straight back to the motel, whether he was thinking of driving around for a while. Or maybe he had it in mind to walk around here first and delay their return. (Y/n) wasn't sure, but she nodded her head and went along with him, she was fine with whatever he chose.

She shuffled out the booth and moved to walk by his side, realising they were close enough that their arms were brushing together.

When Tyler held open the door that chimed a bell, signalling their departure, (Y/n) dipped her head and headed out in front of him.

Their steps fell back in sync as (Y/n) followed Tyler's path towards the truck that was parked across on the left, near the quaint but rather grimey motel.

She was about to try and strike up another conversation until Tyler moved. Without looking her way or breaking his stride, his left hand reached out for her hand. He moved slow, testing the waters as he took her hand in his, meshing their palms together and slowly entwining their fingers together. Giving (Y/n) ample time to pull her hand away and back out if she didn't want to.

But he dipped his head down when he felt her fingers squeeze his hand with intensity and she held to him just as tightly. He began to glide his thumb over the back of her hand and ticked his head to the left, a small but sincerely genuine smile plastered across his lips as he looked at her.

The silence between them was comfortable and seemed to speak volumes in itself. (Y/n) found that one of them- she wasn't sure who- had moved even closer so that their arms were now pressed flush together and if she really wanted to, she could lean her cheek on his arm.

She could feel his thumb gliding over the back of her hand every now and then and she tried to stop herself from squeezing her fingers against his hand too often. Their steps slowed down as they approached the truck as if they were both trying to drag this moment out and make it last into an eternity. Not that they couldn't make this evening stretch on if they got in the truck, they could take a longer route to get back. They could drive somewhere else or drive around aimlessly if they wanted.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to do when they reached the red truck that was hidden behind layers of dirt and caked on mud and flecks of grit. She had one mind to reach out and open the passenger door and climb up, but that meant letting go of Tyler's hand, and she really didn't want to do that.

Instead, she opted for turning so her back was against the door, allowing her to look up at Tyler instead. She found her back pressing back on the door and she hoped there wouldn't be an outline or an imprint of her frame on the door when she eventually pulled away.

Her head tilted back to get a better look up at him and her heart leaped into her throat when Tyler stepped forward. Their hands stayed tangled together. Tyler's right hand pressed against the roof of the truck, allowing him a good angle to look and lean down into (Y/n)'s view.

His head inclined down until they were impossible close, less than half an inch of space between them. All (Y/n) had to do was turn her head and their noses would brush and their lips would touch. She was so close to those red lips that were curved into a smile, not a grin.

Not his usual smirk or that cheeky grin that meant he was going to do something rash or make a joke or try to enlighten the situation and make fun of what they were doing.

The look was kind, caring and seemingly thought out, rather than rash and impulsive.

"Can I?"

(Y/n) barely heard his words and she wasn't quite sure why he was asking when she knew she was at the point of smiling up at him. If she didn't want him to be this close or get any closer, she would have backed away or given him a shove by now.

The feeling of Tyler's lips on hers was something (Y/n) had been imagining for a while now, and something that beat every thought and expectation she had.

She could feel Tyler trying desperately not to smile against her and distort the kiss. And his hand tightened around hers while his other hand moved to cup the side of her face and incline her head more to meet his touch.

When her lips parted, it felt like Tyler was trying to take the little air she had in her lungs and she found herself gasping against his lips, desperately wanting his touch but also needing air.

Tyler's lips curved into a lighthearted smile when they finally pulled apart and their temples rested together. He began to smooth his thumb along the curve of her jaw and up towards her lips that tasted like cherry lip balm. Their noses brushed and when he sucked in a few breaths, Tyler couldn't resist leaning back down for another kiss.

He felt (Y/n) push off the truck and mould their chests together, leaning into him just enough to nudge him onto his back foot and push them both away from the truck. She didn't want to get in the truck yet. She didn't want this moment to end, and neither did he.

"You know, I've-"

Words formed in Tyler's mind like a whirlwind. Everything he wanted to tell her, to say that he had been in agony wanting to kiss her for days, weeks, now. He hoped she felt the same. He wanted to make tonight last into an eternity and stay in this little bubble they had created together. He wanted to continue kissing (Y/n) until the world ended.

But none of those thoughts made it past his lips when something caught his attention.

A shift in the atmosphere. A change in the wind. A very harsh chill collided against his back and almost knocked him off balance.

The wind made goosebumps rise on his flesh and had the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. And another gust of wind sent chills down his spine and made him feel every little speck of dust and grit that rose from the floor and scuttled through the air and knocked against his skin.

Tyler's hand paused, cupping (Y/n)'s cheek and his fingers slotted tighter into the grooves of her hand as he tilted his head back to look up into the night sky.

It felt familiar. It felt daunting.

(Y/n)'s hand clutching his shoulder brought Tyler back and he looked down at her to find that she wasn't looking at him. His name fell past her lips in a dry whisper and Tyler turned to look over his shoulder to find out what (Y/n) was so intently staring at, although he had a gut instinct that he already knew what would be behind him.

A tornado.

A gust of wind circling through the air, picking up in the atmosphere, creating a whirlwind that was mounting and doubling in size.

Why now? Why tonight? Why right here? Right when things were finally going well, when Tyler was finally about to have something different in his life, someone different who wanted him just as badly. They didn't want or need a force of nature interferring tonight, but it was too late.

The tornado was getting closer. The wind was picking up and it was moving across the road in a sporadic pattern that was shifting and changing every second. If Tyler tried to drive through that they would get picked up and ripped apart into oblivion. There wasn't time to try and drive in the other direction, they couldn't outrun a tornado, they could only follow and drive into them.

Tyler's hand dropped from (Y/n)'s face to grip her waist with a sudden desperation while his wide eyes stared around them, trying to find the best place to be. Where was the best place to hide? Did the motel or the diner have a cellar?

The diner had a window on every wall, it was more glass than wall and that wasn't good. Hiding in there meant being close to broken glass and tables and chairs would go flying.

The motel was one story, not like the one they were staying at in the next town which had two floors and a lot more rooms than this. It wouldn't be a safe bet either unless there was a cellar or a storm shelter in the grounds. The shop and the gas station didn't look to be much better and Tyler didn't want to be anywhere near inflammables. The storm could knock things over and rip up the gas pipes. Fires could start and they would go up in flames.

"We have to help them."

He wasn't sure who (Y/n) was talking about for a moment until she used their tangled hands to point towards the motel.

People were starting to rush about. A woman was trying to hurry her daughter towards a car. She was never going to drive through this, their car would be taken from the road and they would never survive.

A quiet "Come on," passed Tyler's lips as he turned on his heels and started to run. He kept his hand tightly tangled with (Y/n)'s, keeping her as close as he could so he didn't lose her in the chaos that was about to ensue.

He felt her other hand curl around his bicep, making sure they stayed tethered together so nothing separated them.

"No, no stop!" Tyler waved his free hand out in front of him, desperate to get the woman's attention as she tried to lift her daughter into the car. "You can't drive in this, we need to find shelter."

He reached out for her arm, not attempting to move or drag her away from the car at all, but just to try and show the desperation he felt and make sure she understood they were only trying to help.

The woman eyed him carefully, tears already falling down her face as she held her daughter against her chest, trembling horribly. But she nodded. Either she knew who he was and knew he had been in this situation before, or she had some sort of instinct that Tyler was trying to help.

She juggled her daughter higher on her chest, kicked the car door shut and turned to follow them. She wasn't sure where they were going, but she would go any way they led if it meant keeping herself and her child safe.

The four of them burst into the motel reception and it was the first time Tyler let go of (Y/n)'s hand. A wave of unease overtook her and she could feel goosebumps travelling up her arm from her empty hand. But when she looked up at Tyler, she found he was already looking at her, as if making sure she was still there now he had let go.

Once satisfied, Tyler slammed his hands down on the desk to get the worker's attention.

(Y/n) tried to look around, but she couldn't see anything. The door to the back room was open, but there didn't seem to be anywhere leading to a cellar or a bunker room or anywhere that looked remotely safe.

She could barely hear Tyler arguing with two men, trying to ask one if there was a storm shelter and tell the other to shut up because there was a tornado approaching. Her arms cocooned around her chest and she spun in circles until she stopped and looked out the window.

Where could they go? Would they be safe enough staying in here? Maybe they could cramp behind the desk, but that didn't feel like a safe option, not when there were at least seven of them here in the reception. Too many to cramp together. The motel could be destroyed if the tornado was big enough, staying inside might not be safe.

Her body flinched at seeing plastic tables and flimsy chairs flying across the grounds outside the window.

Going back outside didn't seem favourable, until (Y/n) squinted in the darkness to see where the chairs were coming from and what was behind the fence up ahead.

She spun on her heels and moved towards Tyler who was close to slamming his fists on the desk in anger because no one seemed to be taking him seriously apart from the mother and her daughter. But the tension fizzled out of his body when he felt two familiar hands on either of his arms. He looked over at (Y/n) as she pressed up into his side.

"There's a pool."

"It's empty this time of year."

"We're not going swimming. Come on." Tyler waved his hand at them, relieved to see the mother, her daughter, and the reception worker were moving to follow. The other couple seemed intent on staying in here and complaining, waiting for the tornado they didn't believe in to come and ravage the motel that would undoubtedly be in its path.

They weren't trying to go for a late night swim and water wouldn't be the safest place to hide during a disaster like this. But pools were deep, at least one end would be very deep. It would act as a shelter, safely made of concrete and built into the ground. It would give them some cover and keep them from being whisked up into the air and taken by the wind.

(Y/n) found her hand clasped in Tyler's once again and she followed him out into the blistering wind, the others following close behind.

It was hard to keep her eyes open and she had to tilt her head down towards her feet to keep pushing forward. Her forehead pressed into Tyler's arm and she gasped, her body shaking as a chair whipped past them, breaking apart mid-air as it got pulled in too many different directions all at once.

As soon as Tyler wrenched open the small gate, it flung back with so much force the hinges started to squeak and break apart. He pushed ahead and leaned over the edge of the pool, checking just to make sure it was truly empty. The last thing they needed was to find it full of murky water that wouldn't provide them any sanctuary.

It was empty.

"Go, go!"

(Y/n) would have preferred someone else to take the lead and go down first, but she could see the mother and the receptionist looking at her. Waiting for her to move, to show them what to do and prove that it was going to be okay and that it was safe. And Tyler wasn't going down there until everyone else was there and towards safety first.

She shakily let go of his hand and twisted around to grab the metal rails that were thankfully drilled so far into the tiles that they would remain stable during the raging winds.

She climbed down half the steps before jumping the rest, she didn't want to waste time.

Once she was down, (Y/n) could feel her balance shifting. The floor was sloped towards the left which was obviously the deep end and combined with the raging winds that were almost forcing her off her feet, she couldn't stand straight.

Her eyes squinted through the weather and she stretched her arms up for the little girl. No point wasting time when they could just pass her down this way.

Once the girl was safely in her arms, (Y/n) clung to her and looked around. the pool must have been in the middle of renovation, for one wall was broken apart so the pipes were revealed. Just what they needed, something to cling to.

She let go of the girl once her mother had clambered down the steps and took hold of her again. "Go to the pipes."

(Y/n) bound her arms around her waist and stood to one side, if it could be called standing when she was being shaken from foot to foot, leaning every which way the wind blew her. Once the worker and Tyler clambered down into the sanctuary of the empty pool, (Y/n) moved closer but her arms stretched out towards them when each of them heard the motel sign begin to creak.

Sparks flew in all directions, casting golden splinters into the wind and the sheets of hail that were flying all around them. The sign swayed and rattled and groaned until finally the metal gave way and snapped apart, falling directly in their path.

None of them could move quick enough and everything seemed to happen at the speed of light.

Both (Y/n)'s arms bound around Tyler when he backed up into her and she felt his hand clamp down on her left hip so tightly his fingers were going to bruise into her skin and his nails were piercing through her jeans. She felt his back slam into her chest and the pair of them slammed down to the floor as the sign landed in front of them, only one inch away from crushing their legs.

It separated them from the receptionist who was shrieking in panic, cast across the other side of the pool.

"Okay?" Tyler managed to splutter as he tilted his head back into (Y/n)'s shoulder and looked up at her through squinting eyes. He watched her nod and he could feel each rapid breath she took which fanned against his back.

He gave her hip a squeeze before he peeled his hand off of her hip and flopped over so he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't stand up. If he did the wind would take him. He had to spread his weight out across the floor so he was heavier and harder to be moved by nature.

He could feel (Y/n) shifting behind him so she was in the same crouching position.

"Go."

"But-"

"Hurry and don't let go." He flung his hand towards the other end of the pool where the pipes were. He needed (Y/n) to stay safe, he would help the man who was still shrieking on the other side of the collapsed sign.

Twisting around, Tyler tried to army crawl along the floor but he was sliding towards the left. His teeth gritted together so tightly it felt like they were going to disintegrate and his jaw was pulsing.

"Stay down- just- no. Stay down, let me help!" He felt like a broken record, repeating various versions of those words but to no avail.

The man wasn't listening to him. He was desperate not to be swept away by the gushing winds, but he wasn't heeding the advice he was being given. If he stood up he would be a target for the winds, he would be easier to move and liable to falling. Staying laid on the ground was his best bet.

"Help me!"

"Get down-" Tyler's hand slammed into the floor and split apart the skin covering his knuckles as a scream left his lips when the man got up.

The tornado got him.

It claimed him as one of its many victims. The moment he was on his wobbling feet, he stumbled backwards, flung his arms out, and took flight like an ailing bird caught in the sea breeze. He was gone. There was no helping him or getting him back. He had been taken and Tyler couldn't do anything. Maybe he would of been better off staying in the motel.

"Tyler!"

He crained his neck to look over his right shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind him. They were cowering against the pipes like they were in some form of protest.

The mother had her whole frame curled around her daughter who had both small arms tangled around the pipes. If the wind picked up anymore her arms looked like they might break, but it was securing her from a weightless death in the air and that was all that mattered.

But it was (Y/n) who held Tyler's attention. Her arm bound around a pipe and her hand clinging to the one below to anchor herself down. Her legs were trying desperately to curl up into her stomach but they were starting to flail around in the air. And her other hand kept moving out in Tyler's direction, grasping for his attention to tell him to get over to them. He had to move. He had to come over and stay safe with them. (Y/n) couldn't lose him.

Tyler's teeth ground together causing a splitting ache in his jaw as he slammed his arms down on the concrete ground. He could feel the pads of his fingers beginning to split and grate against the floor as he shuffled along on his front. It felt odd, army-crawling along like this with the wind trying to lift his legs from the ground and pick him up.

More often than not when a tornado was approaching, Tyler was in the truck driving head first into it. He wasn't hanging around on the side of the road or taking cover in an abandoned pool.

Groans and yells clawed past his lips as he got closer and closer to his destination. To (Y/n).

He could feel his knees scraping against the floor when the wind tried to drag him backwards and he pushed up on his left arm just enough to stretch out his hand.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s hand enveloping around his was the lifeline Tyler needed and she used what little strength she could spare from holding herself steadfast to drag Tyler closer.

Once he was close enough, (Y/n) managed to let go of his hand so she could bind her arm around the pipe again. She couldn't afford not to hang on when she could barely keep her legs from flailing around in the air. Her eyes snapped closed and her forehead pressed against one of the larger copper pipes. It didn't feel like a good move when the wind shook her head and had her temple bashing against the pipe. But it was preferable to having her neck break when her head wobbled every which way but loose.

She could feel Tyler behind her, wedging himself in between her and the mother and daughter. Right in the centre in case either of them let go or needed help or something happened. Ready for action.

But surprise flooded (Y/n)'s stomach with adrenaline when she felt him move.

Tyler's left arm secured over (Y/n)'s arm and his hand clutched desperately next to hers. His chest moulded down over (Y/n)'s back, his arm pinned down over her like he was a blanket securing around her and his right arm reached up to cling to the higher pipe. Both Tyler's legs pressed up into the back of (Y/n)'s knees from the way he was kneeling on the floor and it made (Y/n) feel like she was sitting on his lap. But she didn't care.

He was moulded around her, trying to keep her safe and shield her from the elements. And when he tipped his head down, (Y/n) was sure that despite the raging winds, the whistling sound of metal flying through the air and the distant screams, she could hear him breathing into her hair. It was almost as if he was kissing the top of her head with each harsh breath he took.

"Just Hold on." His voice was loud to compete with the raging winds but it sounded so hollow and quiet in (Y/n)'s ears.

She found herself holding tighter, curling up even smaller, pushing her back against his chest. Doing whatever she felt she could to try and stay where she was and ground herself until the tornado was gone. How long would that be? Was it going to disappear soon? Would it continue and grow larger and suck in the nearby winds and clouds? Would any of them be able to hold on for much longer?

(Y/n) knew if the winds weren't whipping at her face so much, she would have burst into tears by now. She could feel a few leaving the corners of her eyes and being wrenched off into the winds, but those were tears of desperation. Tears trying to moisten her eyes and prevent them from cracking or becoming glued shut with grit and dirt.

She wasn't even close to shedding tears of fear and agony yet. Those would happen once the weather faded, she knew it for sure.

The panic (Y/n) could feel circulating through each and every part of her body momentarily died down when she felt Tyler move. His left arm that had been pinned beside hers briefly let go of the pipe and his iron clad arm bound around (Y/n)'s waist instead.

The action caused her to suck in a deeper breath which shocked her lungs that were trying to take shallow breaths as not to inhale any dust or little objects flying through the air. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she could feel his arm right around her waist and his elbow digging securely into her side just above her hip.

He tugged her back closer to his chest so there was no inch of space between them and his hand secured around a lower pipe so he could hold them both down.

"Stay down, I got you."

He wad anchoring them both together, keeping steadfast despite the elements.

Neither of them quite believed it when the raging winds finally started to die down. In a matter of moments, it was if a switch had been flicked. Everything stopped. Plastic chairs stopped flying through the air. Metal beams and broken chunks of plastic and wires stopped taking flight and were no longer dangerous weapons of nature.

Cars crashed down to the floor and the road, breaking apart on impact, wheels spinning and crashing off into different directions.

Destruction was all that was left in the tornado's wake.

(Y/n) felt her legs slump against the floor and her body slumped to the right, clattering against the pipes now that the wind wasn't lifting her up anymore. She felt Tyler somewhat cushion her fall as she fell back into him and she realised his face was still tucked down against the top of her head. Now she could hear his harsh breaths fanning against her hair which almost felt like he was kissing her head.

Each breath Tyler took was ragged and harsh and made his chest heave and push out against her back. And (Y/n) found herself finally able to open her eyes as she flopped her head back against his shoulder. The action caused him to lift his head, but he simply pressed his lips against her temple this time and kissed her forehead.

She stayed still and horribly tense as Tyler shifted around and wrenched his hands away from the pipes, but his left arm remained steadfast around (Y/n)'s waist.

He looked to his right and reached his free hand out for the woman's elbow, a soft yet slightly bewildered look in his eyes as he croaked "Are you okay?" To which she nodded and hugged her daughter closer who seemed to be mute in utter shock and despair.

"What about you, are you alright?" Tyler looked down at (Y/n) and rested his lips back against the top of her head again but he sighed when he looked at her. He could see her hands were welded onto the pipes, trembling but holding tight, unable to let go for fear of being whisked away into the atmosphere.

He felt (Y/n) try and nod her head but she stopped when he reached his free hand out and carefully curled his fingers around her hand.

"You're okay, you can let go now." His words were so quiet (Y/n) wondered if she had imagined them and she found her hands trembling horribly when Tyler carefully peeled them away.

She dropped her hands down and clutched at his forearms, leaning her head at an angle so she could look up at him better. He looked dashing from this angle, even after an event like that. His hair was barely tousled, only a few strands out of place. He had a few cuts on his hands and exposed arms and no doubt he would have a few bruises, but he looked relatively unscathed.

"And you?" (Y/n) gulped croakily, squeezing his arm as she continued to look him over, checking for any sign of injury that would need attending to.

"I'm fine."

He nudged his temple against the side of her head and closed his eyes for a few seconds to try and regulate his system. He wasn't used to seeing tornados up close like that unless the truck was involved. It had been a while since he had been through one on the ground like that.

"You know," (Y/n) started through deep breaths and welling tears. "I prefer tornados when you drive through them, Mr Wrangler."

Her words had a wide, toothy grin spreading across Tyler's lips and he let out a breathless laugh before he leaned forward to steal a kiss from her slightly chapped lips. Then another. And another.

"Me too, sweetheart."

[heytheredelulu]

I was wondering if you could do maybe a like feral Bucky? Like maybe they trigger the soldat and instead of him fallowing their orders he goes after the shy curvy little intern of Tony’s? They’ve both been too shy to make a move. I’m cool with whatever spin you put on it, I LOVE your writing.

(Love all your normal kinks so feel free to add those too as you see fit! )

Thank you lovely 🥰 Can’t wait to drool over more of your writing lol

I took this and RAN with it.

It ended up becoming much longer than I had anticipated so this one will be broken up into two parts.

I struggled with trying to incorporate Bucky being triggered after the reader already being somewhat aquatinted with him, pining after him, etc. so I went the route I did and I hope it fulfills your request!

Part one will be mostly just plot building with a spicy cliff hanger leading us into a part two of pure smut.

Ready to Comply - Part One - Anon Request

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, choking, blood (Bucky is strugglin’ and bites his own hand), a lil sexual tension in prep for part two, he sniffs her coochie, okay?

“Okay, stop. Stop that.” Tony whispered out of the corner of his mouth. You shot him a glance and tugged at your skirt one more time for good measure. He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “You look fine, Rookie. Very professional. Is that what you needed to hear?”

You scoff and shake your head. “That’s no- I’m not fishing for compliments, I genuinely hate dressing like a fucking secretary.” You grumble, drawing a laugh out of Tony. “And don’t call me ‘Rookie.’” You add with a prod to his chest. He brushes the front of his suit jacket sarcastically in response to your poke and raises his hands defensively, a soft chuckle rising from his throat.

“A fucking secretary? Really? It’s business professional. Did you think I could let you stand next to me in a press conference wearing an old t-shirt and some torn up jeans? We need to create a semblance of professionalism.” He gestures to his own attire with a grin and there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he continues.

“And what’s wrong with ‘Rookie’? You’re my little protégé.” He jests, reaching like he’s going to pinch your cheek as if you were some adorable little toddler. You frown, swatting his hand away and brings it to his chest, clutching it dramatically. “Wow, you’re going to assault your friend, mentor and extremely rich and handsome boss?” He jokes, feigning offense.

“The only accurate adjective in that sentence is ‘boss’, Sir.” You reply dryly, crossing your arms. The corners of his lips twitch into a sly smile and he nudges you with his elbow. “I’ll accept if you don’t agree with friend and mentor.” He starts, pressing his lips into a pout. “But I might actually get a little offended if you refuse to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome I am.”

You groan in annoyance and roll your eyes, preparing a witty comeback when Pepper Potts rounds the corner with a tablet cradled in her arm, a phone nestled between her ear and shoulder and an expression of concern written across her face.

“Everything alright?” Tony asks, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me.. another offer for People’s ‘sexiest man alive’? I keep telling them, I can’t be on the cover every ye-“ Tony stops mid sentence as Pepper’s manicured forefinger lands on his lips, effectively silencing him.

“Yes. Okay. Understood. Thank you.” She says curtly into the phone before disconnecting the call. “That was Fury. We have an issue. A Barnes issue.”

Your brows furrow at this. “What’s happened with Bucky?” You ask, a sense of dread creeping up your spine. He’d been all but isolated since he’d moved into the Avenger’s tower alongside his best friend Steve Rogers and you couldn’t imagine him being the source of an issue with how reserved this man was. You weren’t at all oblivious to his past- it had been global wide news after all, but in the months since his de-conditioning in Wakanda he had been making great strides towards recovery, working to make amends.

Though your interactions with the ex-assassin had been few, he’d always been polite and kind towards you. You’d felt so out of place among the Avengers, being Tony’s intern. You weren’t on the team, hell, a few of them didn’t even know your name despite you having been trailing behind Tony for the last year. Maybe it was your own fault, considering you hadn’t really made an effort to talk to any of them but aside from the fact that they were all extremely intimidating, you were naturally a shy and quiet person.

You quickly push the self deprecating thoughts from your head. You didn’t care about any of that. You shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be on the team, or were there to make friends, you were here as an engineer, to learn from who was arguably the most intelligent man on the planet. Perhaps that’s why Bucky had always been cordial to you more than some of the others living here. Maybe he gravitated towards you, as someone who constantly felt so out of place, because he felt that way here as well.

Or maybe he thought you were cute.

Oh fuck, if only.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to the man or that you’d been quietly crushing on him practically since you’d started your internship. Every small interaction with Bucky left a blush on your cheeks and a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting about your belly.

The thought of someone as absurdly good looking as Bucky fucking Barnes finding you attractive was enough to spark a surge of heat straight to your abdomen.

No, get it together. Now’s not the time.

You mentally scold your vagina for having the nerve to throb at the mere mention of Bucky Barnes regardless of the context and turn your attention back to Pepper and Tony as they argued in hushed whispers.

“What’s happened with Bucky?” You repeat, knowing they likely won’t clue you in if it’s related to Avenger’s business.

Tony offers a nervous smile and exchanges a quick glance with his wife before he checks his watch. “Terminator? He’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably holed up with security for setting off the metal detector.” He pauses and then snaps his fingers. “Or maybe he walked past the junkyard on fifth and got snatched up by the hydraulic magnet.” He says, lifting a hand and miming a crane.

Pepper lets out a soft sigh and your gaze flicks to her. “Yeah, a big magnet or something.” She mumbles, turning her attention back to her tablet. “I don’t think that’s-“ Your cut off by Tony’s hand on the small of your back, urging you forward. “Enough about Robocop. We’re on, Rookie.” He says, his nervous expression falling away and quickly being replaced with a mask of professionalism. “Let’s go unveil our project to the press.” Pepper moves to open the door for you both and before you can open your mouth to tell Tony that if he calls you ‘rookie’ one more time you were going to strangle him with his overpriced tie, your senses are overwhelmed with an onslaught of overlapping voices and camera shutters.

You toss your blazer over the desk in your quaint office and slump over into the chair, trying not to let your mind run wild with anxious thoughts about the press conference. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but worry that you probably looked like a deer in headlights up at the podium alongside Tony.

You huff and rest your chin on the back of your hand, glancing over at the computer screens. Your attention is immediately drawn to security footage from one of the conference rooms when you see movement on the monitor. You lean in with your brows furrowed. It’s late and no one should be in the conference room. You expand the image and can clearly make out Tony and Steve moving about the room with tense body language.

You hover over the footage with your mouse and hesitate. You know that you absolutely should not eavesdrop on the two men but once Tony’s hands begin angrily gesturing around you give in to temptation and turn on the audio.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘back up?’” Tony shouts, beginning to pace the room.

Steve leans forward with his palms on the table and his head bowed slightly. “It’s exactly what I said, Tony.” He replies, his biceps flexing as he grips the table. “HYDRA had a fail safe. They’d planted a back up activation incase he would ever manage to be deprogrammed.” He looks up at Tony with a solemn expression. “They got to him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve-“

Tony holds out a hand, his other resting against his temple as he tries to comprehend what Steve is telling him. “Well you weren’t and they did so know we have to figure out how the fuck we navigate this.” He says firmly, shaking his head. “Do we have eyes on him? Is he in the building?”

Steve sighed and stood upright from the table. “No. He’s in the wind. We lost contact with him a few hours ago.” He admits, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s something you need to know.” He adds, looking at Tony with concern as he begins to pace again.

“Well spit it out, Rogers!” Tony yells, stopping and turning back to Steve.

“Nat received some intel. The hit HYDRA ordered is on you and your intern.” He says so quietly you can barely pick it up on the audio. Fear crawls up your spine and your hand trembles as you increase the volume on the security feed, while your heartbeat in your ears becomes near deafening.

Tony stiffens, slowly approaching Steve. “You wanna tell me why?” He asks, his voice low and dangerous. Steve nods. “The new tech you unveiled today.“ He explains.

Tony sighs, understanding why one of their enemies would be threatened by what the two of you had been working on and reaches to loosen his tie. “I’ll take Pepper and move her to the safe house before I meet you at a rendezvous point. Send someone to get my Rookie and get her off the grid. I don’t want her alone for a single second.” He says in an exasperated tone, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out his cell phone as he stalks towards the door.

“And Rogers?” He asks, turning around one last time, his hand curled tight around the doorknob. Steve’s head snaps up and he looks at Tony with guilt ridden eyes. “Yeah?”

“Find Barnes.”

Find Barnes.

The statement echoes in your ears, sending your thoughts spinning as if a category five hurricane were waging inside your head.

No. No, no, no.

There’s a hit out on you?

To be carried out by the fucking Winter Soldier.

Oh you were so fucked.

You scoot your chair back, bracing your hands on the desk to stand with wobbly knees.

Bile rises in your throat as you take a slow step backwards, bumping the chair in your state of panic and knocking your jacket off the workbench. You jump at the sound of it slipping to the floor and clutch your chest as a result of inducing your own jumpscare and take slow breaths to steel your nerves before you bend down to pick it up. As you rise back upright, your gaze connects with a pair of vacant, icy blue eyes in the shadows across the room and your entire body seizes in terror.

He’s not in the wind.

He’s been in here with you this entire goddamned time.

“B-Bucky?” You stutter, bringing your jacket to your chest and grasping it until your knuckles turn white. Maybe Steve and Tony were wrong. Maybe Nat’s intel was wrong. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding and you weren’t about to die at the hands of the ex-assassin you’ve been pining over for nearly a year.

He takes a step forward from the shadows, his face expressionless and his eyes unblinking without a single trace of emotion behind them.

Okay, yeah. You’re fucked.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You whisper, almost a plea to the man you knew, locked away somewhere in the brain of the cold and calculated killer standing in front of you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t register your words, as he crosses the lab in a few quick strides and catches your throat in his cybernetic hand.

Oh god.

The air leaves your lungs, his grip tightening around your windpipe as his face remains blank.

You’re going to die.

So why are you so fucking turned on?

Heat pools low in your abdomen, your core flooding with arousal, coupled with fear and unbridled lust.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you gasp and thrash in his grip, your thick thighs rubbing together with every kick and flail, doing nothing to alleviate the throbbing ache in your cunt.

God this is so wrong.

His brows furrow, the first hint of emotion since he stepped out of the shadows. His head tilts inquisitively and his grip slackens around your throat as he leans in, tracing his nose across your jaw line and inhaling deeply. You still, your face contorting in confusion as you swallow hard against his palm, leaning your body into his hold.

His eyes narrow as he pulls away from you and you take the opportunity to suck in a breath, massaging your neck gently while your gaze drops to observe his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” You ask, wondering what’s caused the sudden shift in his demeanor, wondering if maybe he’s somehow snapped out of the trance he’d been in. He’s still and silent for a long moment, his head bowed as his chest rises and falls heavily with every breath.

“Sergeant Barnes, are yo-“

His head snaps up, effectively silencing you.

Your mouth remains agape, stuck on your last word and as he watches you with predatory eyes, taking menacing steps toward you, you can’t seem to find your voice any longer. You stumble backwards, losing your balance and falling back against the desk, unable to regain your footing before his hands grip the flesh of your bare thighs.

He tilts you backwards, your back colliding hard with the surface of the desk, stealing the breath out of your chest. He drops to his knees, splaying his palms against your thighs, the hem of your dress rising up to expose your panties as he spreads your legs wide before him and drags his nose across the fabric.

He groans.

He fucking groans.

“You’re my mission.” He breathes out, eyes wild and fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as if he were fighting to physically restrain himself.

“I know.” You whimper, lifting your head to look down at him over the soft curve of your stomach.

“I’ve been ordered to kill you.” He chokes out, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh and drawing in a deep and shuddering breath.

“Then why haven’t you?” You ask in a broken whisper.

He turns his head and mumbles something incoherently, his breath ghosting against the damp fabric of your underwear and sending a wave of arousal crashing through your core. He stiffens, curling his flesh hand into a fist and bringing it to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as he swallows back a moan.

He shakes his head, his teeth pressing into his skin hard enough to draw blood and you move to sit up, leaning on your palms as you look down at him where he’s slotted between your legs, visibly trembling.

He rises quickly to his feet, his left hand shooting out to curl around your neck again and he drops his bloodied flesh hand to his side.

“Because..” He says through clenched teeth, inhaling sharply as the cool metal of his thumb strokes the column of your throat.

“I can’t fucking focus when all I can smell-“

His free hand roughly cups your pussy over your panties, his voice trailing off as he kneads his palm against the thin, wet fabric.

He growls, tightening his grip around your throat and jerking you up to him, forcing you to meet his threatening gaze.

His expression grows pained and he whimpers, dipping his head to meet your forehead with his own, his breath fanning across your face with every heave of his chest.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@suz7days @blackbirdwitch22 @truthfulliarr @lilacka

Part two

[darylssunshine]

Mine.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

Era: Commonwealth

Summary: Daryl indulges in one of your kinks.

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, swearing, knives, choking

Word count: 1k (ish)

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I am very scared LOL. The first fic you post on tumblr being smut can be very nerve-wracking. Just had Daryl indulging my knife kink rattling around in my brain and I got inspired.

~~~~~

“Shut th' fuck up, slut.”

A hand was pressed down onto your mouth as a growl exited his, while the other grasped both your wrists and held them above your head. Daryl's length was moving back and forth through your walls at a dizzying pace while your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pure bliss. Though your eyes were now wide open and staring directly at the redneck on top of you because of his previous comment. Your breath hitched and you nodded your head fervently. 

The hand that was previously pressed onto your mouth moved down to squeeze your throat, all while continuing to pound into you, causing a whine to crawl out of you, your mouth still closed. 

“Tryin’ to stay quiet for me like tha'. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

The mix of degradations and praise combined with the added pressure increasing on your throat had your head spinning and a knot building in your lower stomach. “Who do you fuckin’ belong to? Who is it, huh?” Daryl purposefully leaned down to growl against your ear, knowing each and every one of your turn ons. The mix of pain and pleasure was too much for your brain to handle, not being able to think a single thought, let alone a coherent sentence. So instead of answering, you gave a high-pitched moan in response, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth and onto your chest.

He smirked. He fucking smirked, and somehow quickened the pace.

Daryl gave a raspy grunt in disapproval and gripped your chin that was previously on your throat, forcing you to look at him directly. “Didn't hear ya, slut. Who d'ya belong to?”

You snapped out of your haze, not wanting to disappoint nor disobey him. “Y- … You.” You struggled to stutter out in between your fast breaths. 

“That's.” Thrust. “Fuckin’.” Thrust. “Right.” Thrust. 

He slowed his thrusts down to a lazy pace before stopping completely, earning a dramatic whine from the depths of your soul when you felt him slip out of you. “Dar!” You dragged in an annoyed tone, Daryl already stepping off the bed and onto the carpet. He simply chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes.

“Relax. Wanna try somethin'.”

He grabbed something from off of the shared dresser you had on the other side of the room, making sure you didn't see what it was and hid it behind his back. Slowly, he walked back to the bed and got in a sitting position, making direct eye contact the whole time, building anticipation. “C'mon over and ride me, but don't face me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you did as you were told, crawling on your hands and knees to the middle of the bed where Daryl now was, and gently eased yourself back onto his cock, bouncing slowly. “What's this about, Dar?” You questioned, your breath already beginning to quicken.

“You'll see. Just keep ridin', sunshine.” Once again, albeit confused, did as you were told, already getting comfortable with the position, letting small moans slip out, all while Daryl rubbed your hip with his left hand and still holding that unknown something in his right.

Immediately after those words left your mouth, his long, sharp, hunting knife met with the base of your throat, while his other free hand gripped your hair and tilted your head back, exposing even more of the soft flesh. And he was pushing on it, increasing the pressure with every thrust. He's went out hunting with that knife before you two even met, so you had no doubt he knew what he was doing, and that thought somehow turned you on more than you already were. He swiped it slightly along your clavicle, almost drawing blood.

“You ready, baby?”

Even while you were experiencing the bliss of riding his cock over and over, that elicited a chuckle from you. Why was he being so secretive? “For what, babe?”

Your mouth went slack. No noise exited you besides your exaggerated breathing and your, frankly, embarrassing loud moans.

“There it is. You're such a fuckin’ slut. My slut. Makin' you feel so good, huh?”

All your senses were heightened. You were on cloud nine and barely even heard what he said besides registering his low, raspy, growling. Daryl was making you a wet, blubbering mess, and he only wished he could see what those eyes looked like rolled in the back of your head. So he resorted to the voice again. (He figured out about that kink the very first night you spent with each other. “You're really obvious, y'know that?”)

“Use ya words, bitch. Are you mah slut ere not?” Daryl spoke lowly but with assertion, his accent becoming more and more noticeable.

“Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, yes!” You responded emphatically, not only answering his question, but letting him know how good he's making you feel. 

“You gonna cum all over this cock for me, sunshine?”

“Fuck, yes. Yes, I will. Oh fuck…” You're surprised you even answered his question with the state you were in, but you did, albeit breathlessly. Daryl chuckled and put a bit more pressure on your throat, moving up to the middle this time. 

The knot in your lower stomach got tighter and tighter, and with a couple thrusts to your sweet spot while rasping sweet nothings in your ear, you saw white, feeling your cunt drip with Daryl's cum down onto your thighs and roll down onto his. You almost collapsed forward, but you felt a pair of strong arms grip your midsection before throwing the knife away from the two of you with a flick of his wrist.

Daryl placed gentle kisses on the side of your neck and then your temple. He hugged you from behind, his cock still buried within you.

“Hey Dar?” He slowly eased your back up against his firm chest, making it easier for him to lock eyes with you.

“Hm?” He purred.

~~~~~

“Can you do that again sometime?” You asked softly in between trying to catch your breath. He chuckled once again and punctuated it with a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to the lips.

“Hell yeah, I will.”

God. I NEED HIM.

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

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@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[hayatheauthor]

How To Accurately Describe Pain In Writing 

Pain can be an interesting emotion to write about. It gives authors the liberty to merge their character’s emotions and surroundings to create beautiful metaphors and graphic descriptions that draw their readers in and convey their character’s struggles. However, if done wrongly reading your descriptions of pain can feel like a chore to your readers. Unsure how to accurately describe pain in your writing? Here are some tips to help you get started. 

Use The Five Senses 

As humans, we possess five senses that dictate our reactions to the world around us. When writing, it is important to use these five senses rather than just relying on what your character can see. Talk about the sound, the smell, the taste, and even the feeling. 

If your character just got burnt, talk about the sound of sizzling flesh and the slight numbness they feel. Mention the terrible smell of burnt flesh, and make your character feel dizzy with fear as their eyes finally land on the horrific wound. 

Internal bleeding makes people spit blood and taste iron and partially healed wounds feel itchy and irritant. 

There is so much more to pain than what you see, and simply talking about your character’s wounds isn’t nearly enough to make your readers wince in second-hand pain. In fact, they are more likely to skim your passages in boredom. 

Show your readers what your character is experiencing, and then go on to describe their reaction to this situation. 

Build It Up, Then Break It Down 

Pain doesn’t just suddenly come from nowhere. It starts with something small, blossoms, and then spreads. Your character won’t just suddenly get a third-degree burn the size of a baseball by leaning against a hot steel wall for the briefest of seconds. It starts with a light reddish-brown mark, then darkens, maybe even blisters. 

You can’t go from 0 to 100 in one sentence. You need to build it up and show your readers how your character’s pain was found. Then, break it down. 

Pain doesn’t come from nowhere, but it doesn’t suddenly disappear either. Show us how your character’s wound heals. Does the wound mark from where they hurt their knee turn into an ugly brown shade for a couple of weeks? Do their burns gradually fade from red to pink, or turn darker? 

It’s important to show your readers the aftermath of your character’s pain. A character who just had a bullet pulled out of their shoulder with a hot knife can’t suddenly just jump up and start firing at the enemy with perfect aim. 

You don’t need to overdo it and constantly mention their wounds during the healing stage, but something as simple as ‘her bandages uncomfortably scratched at her back every time she lifted her hand to eat’ or ‘his fingers subconsciously shifted to run over the remains of his burn mark even as his eyes remained trained on the blackboard’ will suffice. 

How Does This Affect Your Character? 

Physical pain aside, wounds can also have an effect on your character’s dynamics with others as well as your plot. 

It’s important to take into account how they got this wound, how the other characters might react to it, and internalised conflict caused by it. Maybe your character injured their fingers during a game of volleyball and now they’re staring at their final exam paper with tears of frustration brimming their waterline because it hurts too much to write.

Maybe your protagonist suffered a small burn while sneaking out to go to their friend’s house and their parent or mentor saw it. Or maybe your protagonist won against the antagonist but suffered a grave injury to their legs and now cannot fight during the next confrontation, resulting in a chaotic outbreak at their headquarters. 

Think about the internal as well as the external damage your character’s wounds can cause, and then use that as a plot device to further your book. 

Do Your Research 

It’s very important to accurately portray your character’s level of pain and consider whether or not they would realistically incur such injuries from such a wound. When writing about a character’s wound or pain consider doing some research about that type of wound. 

Here are some things you need to check when researching the wound type: 

How much blood would they loose with this type of wound? 

What are the side effects? 

Could this be fatal? 

How long will it take to heal? 

How long does it take for a wound to get to that extent? (for example, if you’re writing about a third-degree burn, research what it takes for a burn to be considered third-degree). 

What are the major veins, arteries, and other important body parts in that part of the character’s body? For example, if your character is supposed to be injured on their arm but it’s not supposed to be serious, you need to consider whether the wound could realistically have ruptured their radial artery, resulting in death. 

Will there be any scarring? What about any long-lasting wound marks? 

You could also take a look at historical events similar to the one you’re writing. For example, if you’re writing about an assassination attempt consider researching the most historically renowned assassination techniques. 

It’s also a good idea to ask your families and friends about their experiences with the type of wound you’re writing about (so long as it’s not a sensitive topic). Maybe you have a cousin who suffered a third-degree burn once or a classmate who has a scar from a graphic wound across their arm. 

I hope this blog on how to accurately describe pain in writing will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday. 

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author. 

Copyright © 2022 Haya, you are not allowed to repost, translate, recreate or redistribute my blog posts or content without prior permission

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

♡ pairing : kim mingyu x f!reader

♡ wc : 528

♡ warnings/content includes : daddy kink, nicknames (babygirl, pretty girl etc.) , slight dumbification, size kink, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected sex.

♡ a/n : I am currently experimenting my first svt smut (thus I am not tagging anyone on my taglist cause it ain't that good 😭) in my free time (I finally finished studying for this) and thought I'd write for mine and @anyamaris 's current bias :3

@shinestarhwaa @woosanbby

A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead, your thighs were sore as your muscles were constricted. Mingyu's large hands were wrapped around your hips, low grunts leaving his lips momentarily every time you clenched around him. His hands grasped around your wrists, holding them together as he bounced you on his large cock. Your gasps were loud as they resonated throughout the room, your cries just made his cock become harder in you.

"You sound so fucking pretty like this babygirl, so fucking hot for me." Mingyu whispers next to your ear, while soft moans leave your lips. His plump lips press soft butterfly kisses down your neck, his neck coming down to lick over every mark he left on your skin.

"D-Daddy, 'm t-tired, too much-" You could barely finish your sentence when his hips slammed up into you, while his arms held you closer. His teeth grazes over your sensitive nipple while his hips casually rutted into you roughly. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure, gosh damn Mingyu and the huge size difference you had.

The way his large hand gripped your waist like it was nothing, and the way his broad chest supported you as you leaned on him, gosh he was making you lose your mind. He finally pushes you down onto your back, his large figure hovering over you as his cock slips deep into you from the way he was pounding.

Her hand hovers below your thigh, and picks it up making you scream as he places your thigh on his shoulder.

You could practically feel his cock in your abdomen, low soft 'daddy' and 'so good' leaves your mouth. Your mind goes blank, filled with only the thought of his cock hitting your G-spot so perfectly. "My pretty girl can't form any words, can she? Aren't you just fucked dumb baby?"

His words make you clench hard around him, making him growl lowly. His hands come down to grip your waist harshly, and your thighs shudder convulsively. You could feel the intense coil building up in your abdomen, and your fingers dig into his muscles, almost drawing blood from the grip. Mingyu curses loudly, his cock twitching inside you as soon as he feels your pussy squirt all around him.

"Fuck-" And just like that, ropes of cum paint your walls, and his hands caress your hips slowly as he throws his head back. You could only moan at the warm feeling filling you up, your mind completely lost in euphoria of the orgasm.

His hips move back slightly, making his soft dick slip out of your cum filled hole. "That was so fucking hot babygirl." He says while lowering his head down between your legs. One of his long fingers, swipe over the cum leaking out of you. And soon enough his tongue wraps around his finger, tasting himself there.

You gasp when his fingers rub soft circles on your clothes out of the blue, your thighs trying to close shut only for his strong hands to prevent them from doing so. "How about you cum on Daddy's tongue, pretty girl? Don't you wanna be good for Daddy?"

© wooyoungmybelovedhusband. All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or steal any of my works.

[neuroprincess]

So I’ve got an idea for a Schmentti family request.

Luca meeting his baby sister for the first time.

Like I feel that it would be the cutest thing ever. And you would write it so well! Just an idea, I love this series so much!

Hi sweetie! Hope it met your expectations. And thank you for your request ♡ oh that's very sweet and kind of you ^^

LuLu's Sissy - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: After a long week Olivia is finally home to meet her older brother, but Luca's reaction is not at all what they expected.

Classification: Domestic fluff

Warnings: Breastfeeding (?)

Word count: +2300

Unrevised

When the couple came through the front door, they hoped that their firstborn would be taking one of the dozens of naps he takes during the day or too busy trying to catch Barb's eye to notice their arrival. Sweet illusion! As soon as Melissa turned the key, they could hear the quick little footsteps running towards them, along with the playful giggles of someone who had done something fun. It didn't take long for the boy to wrap his arms around the older woman's legs, almost knocking her over in the process, without much idea of how big and strong he had become over the last few months. As well as being bigger than expected for age and than his kindergarten friends, Luca is an affectionate little bear who loves physical touch, tight hugs and curling up wherever he can in search of a comfortable lap, something he always gets from his mothers, no matter the situation. But this time the attempt is frustrated, the teacher's arms are full of maternity bags and some of the presents that were left at the hospital, while Y/N balances the baby comforter where the new addition to the family sleeps peacefully, oblivious to the commotion around her.

"Good morning, my little man!" Melissa greets in a loving whisper, dropping off all the items on the nearest armchair, the short journey from the car to there was enough to give her a slight backache "Did you behave today? Or did you give your godmother a hard time?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

With usual childlike honesty, the boy just shakes his head "no," then nods "yes," his chubby cheeks quickly taking on a rosy hue, showing he's a little embarrassed, which draws a laugh from the adults in the room. He's still dressed in dinosaur pyjamas, and his coppery hair is slightly messy, the ends forming adorable curls.

"It's all right! We'll give you a pass for being cute. Now, are you ready to meet your little sister?"

"Mama..." he points to the large pink item, still covered in a thin patterned blanket, curious "Momma!" then calls out to the youngest, who, since he started forming sentences, has also been able to distinguish them. Mama and Mama Mel are obviously for Melissa; Momma and Mum for Y/N; Mummy for both and on rare occasions.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she asks, crouching down to her son's height, watching his olive eyes light up in realization.

"My Sissy?"

Barb, who has just finished organizing some children's books previously scattered on the coffee table, observes the interaction between the little family. Her godson, usually agitated and not very tactful, walks on tiptoe and puts a little finger in front of curved lips, repeating "Shhh" so that everyone is silent as he tries to get closer, just as she taught him hours before. After a long week under observation, the newborn was finally released to go home, miraculously without sequelae or any complications, to the relief and joy of her moms. She can say with certainty that it was the worst week of her friend's life.

Nothing compares to the moment Olivia Ann came into the world, giving everyone a fright, premature, small enough to fit in a shoebox and asleep, making the redhead's heart skip beats and her blood run cold. After the scare came the worry, it was a terrifying experience in every respect and both hesitated even to hold her, she seemed so fragile, as if she were made of glass, and any wrong move could break her. Neither of them got enough sleep and never stopped worrying until Liv finally reached the ideal weight for her eagerly awaited release. Her eyes meet her friend's and they share an affectionate look, full of gratitude and pride.

"I wanna see her!"Luca speaks a little louder, jumping up and down in excitement, barely able to contain himself "I want my Sissy."

"You'll see her soon, LuLu." Y/N assures him and is about to pull up the blanket to finally show him his little sister when she starts mumbling, which soon turns into a loud cry, potent for a small human being "Oh, I think Liv's hungry."

"Sissy want cookies?"

"No, bambino." Melissa strokes his cheeks and picks him up so that he's at their height "She doesn't have any teeth yet."

The boy grimaces in disgust and then laughs at the thought of someone with no teeth, it sounds too silly, especially for someone who bites everything, like him. Teeth are essential! This makes him even more curious. It took a while for the toddler to understand what a sibling is and that he would soon have one, just as it took him a while to understand the concept of babies, since for Luca he is still one. And it's for this reason that he is shocked when the blanket is pulled back to reveal the newborn, about the size of his teddy bears, incredibly red and screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Mommy! Aunt Barb! Sissy a chicken?"he asks, wide-eyed "Sissy ugly." and concludes, knitting his eyebrows together, it's not what he was expecting.

They burst into laughter, of all the reactions and expectations they had, this was the most surprising and funny. He stares at them in confusion, he doesn't see how this is funny, this can't be his Sissy, can it?

"No, no, love." Barbara manages to say between laughs and moves closer, helping the younger with the baby comfort "She's only small, babies are like that when they're born."

"Ugly?"

"You think that Olivia is ugly?" Mel is amused and hugs him, stroking the full hair as he nods positively "Well, amore mio, you looked just like her when you were born."

"No! No!" the boy is indignant, refusing to believe it "LuLu is cute!"

"So Olivia is cute?"

The question confuses him, and thinking hard with the unique reasoning of a two-year-old, he shakes his head "no" again.

"Sissy is ugly!"

He lays head down on his mother's chest, hiding an annoyed pout, and watches as the pair take the little girl out of the accessory, then place her on Y/N's lap so that she can be breastfed. Of course, the child doesn't know what he's feeling, it's something that bubbles in the pit of the stomach and may be quite irrational, but Luca quickly becomes jealous. Until a few months ago he was the one on his Momma's lap and could feed himself to his heart's content, until this was taken away from him, between small bribes and a lot of patience. Only now to be replaced by a newcomer who, in his view, is stealing what belongs to him.

It doesn't take long for Luca to start grumbling and squirming until he escapes from the redhead's arms.

"Aunt Barb! No!" he asks his godmother for help, pointing to Y/N who is sitting on the sofa, crying when the woman doesn't do what he wants "I want my Momma too!"

Melissa sighs and exchanges a sympathetic look with her wife; they know that this adaptation phase is going to be difficult for the little one. Despite his personality and all the preparation they have done for the arrival of their second child, nothing changes the fact, already proven to be hereditary, that Luca Schemmenti is jealous by nature. He's had all the attention on himself so far and isn't used to sharing, least of all the most important things in his life, his moms.

"You'll always be our baby, LuLu. Our prince. But now Liv needs us, Mama and Momma will take care of her too, just like we take care of you, caro. She's our family, mine, yours, ours." she whispers and strokes his flushed face, wiping away the tears running down cheeks "And you have a very important role now, you're a big brother."

"And do you know what big brothers do?" Y/N continues, he denies it, the crying ceasing in sobs "Big brothers learn to share, they also protect and love their little siblings A LOT."

"I don't wanna share my Momma!" he insists and rushes over to the youngest, hugging her legs as she straddles the daughter who immediately starts sucking desperately on her nipple. "You're mine!"

"LuLu, I'll always be yours, but I'm also of Liv, of Mama too."

"My Mama?"

"Yours."

"Liv hers too?"

"Yes, bambino." Melissa sits down on the sofa and pulls him onto her lap again.

"And Liv mine?"

"Yes, your little sister, your Sissy."

Only then the boy realizes how close he is to her and maybe she doesn't look so ugly when not crying. She yawns, showing her gums without any teeth, and it brings a smile to his face. It's really funny. He bites the inside of his lip, trying to take in the concept that, after months of hearing about Olivia, she's finally here. It's not what he expected, the complete opposite, and although it's frustrating, it's still his.

He nods, showing that he's understood what he's being told.

"Do you want to touch her?"

Luca nods again, still unsure, and brings a hesitant hand close to Olivia's tiny feet. He remembers how mommies always tickle him before bed, it's fun and always makes him happy. With a smile and not so shy anymore, he tries to replicate the gesture, little fingers dancing in search of a few laughs, but before anything can be done, Melissa gently holds his arms.

"Careful, LuLu." she says softly, placing a kiss on his forehead "She's very, very, very small, Liv isn't ready to be tickled like you yet."

"Cause I'm big boy?" the question is ambiguous and they don't understand whether he sees it as a good or a bad thing.

"Yes, love! Because only big boys get fun tickles from their mommies." Barb sidesteps the situation and sits down in the armchair opposite the Schemmenti, leaning over to continue talking to her godson "And when your sister grows up, you'll be able to give her lots of tickles."

"Okay..."

The toddler makes a stubborn little peck, but it doesn't last long as he is pulled closer by the redhead, his chubby arms wrap around her neck and gives her a kiss on the chin, only to hide his face in the crook of her neck. He absolutely loves Melissa's perfume and playing with her necklaces, calms down and makes him feel safe.

When Olivia has finished feeding, a time that seemed like an eternity of torture to him, Y/N carefully settles the newborn on her lap so that their son can see her better, a difficult task considering that, like the firstborn, she can be very demanding in some ways. Liv, satiated, opens her little eyes for the first time since they arrived home and Luca, amazed, leans in for a closer look, full of curiosity. It's fascinating, he watches all her little reactions, from one of the spasms that make her smile to her sleepy stretching.

"Amore mio, you can't tickle her, but you can hold her hand, do you want to do that?"

This makes him happy and without a second thought he gently touches the baby's little hand, which closes around his fingers instantly. The boy opens a surprised and genuine smile, beginning to accept and understand that this small, strange and slightly ugly person is his sister, whom he has been waiting for long months. Barb, watching the scene with a warm smile, can't resist taking out her smartphone and recording the moment. She takes a few photos, capturing Luca's cute expressions that oscillate between curiosity and a growing affection for Olivia. Melissa and Y/N stare at each other, thrilled to see the connection forming between the two, immersed in this unique little moment, their two children officially getting to know each other.

"See, LuLu? She already likes you," the youngest encourages him, running a hand through their son's hair, curling one of the soft locks.

"I like her. My Sissy."

"Yes, Luca," Melissa agrees, hugging the boy "Your Sissy, forever."

He snuggles closer into Mel's embrace, letting out a satisfied sigh. The siblings' hands are still together, his little fingers caressing her soft skin, a very common little gesture of affection that he always shows to those he loves, a detail that doesn't go unnoticed by women, a sign that, despite the initial shock, he has begun to understand the significance of this new addition to the family. This fact warms their hearts, the little family is complete with the arrival of Olivia Ann.

Until a few years ago, the eldest had never imagined the possibility of motherhood and now she is the mom of two little angels, gifts from her wife, someone who has given her a new perspective and chance in life. For a brief moment, she almost wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps and have a baseball team of her own, but only if they came from Y/N. The house she bought, when still married to Joe, never felt like a home until she entered her life, her treasure, gradually making it more complete, all her baggage with Melissa's constituting a beautiful marriage, which years later brought Luca and was completed with Olivia. The once empty walls are filled with family photos, the floor with toys and children's books, a soft smell of freshly baked cookies comes from the kitchen and the sun illuminates the living room, every corner and detail filled with love in one of those perfect moments that you want to keep in mind for eternity.

Y/N smiles as she realizes how far away the other is in her thoughts and leans in to join their lips in a tender kiss, both are tired, a little sleepy and extremely proud of the family they have built for themselves. It hasn't been easy and it won't be as their gremlins grow up, but all the challenges and rewards of motherhood along with the life shared with Melissa is something she wouldn't trade for anything in this and other worlds.

Suddenly, Luca's curious little voice broke the silence of the sweet moment.

"Momma, when Liv go her home?"

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Schemmenti Family Masterlist

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!vampire x GN!Reader (HC’s)

Growing tired of a lonesome life he sets eyes on you but you can’t ever imagine yourself growing to love such a monster, he isn’t to worried believes you will come around at some point, he’s fine with waiting for a couple of centuries. For now he will just hang around and admire his first and only love; Possible Stockholm syndrome?

No one, not even you, will ever know why you were taken from your house in a beautiful but sleepy European town during dusk; but people came up with theory’s. Most agreed upon was you had been taken by the monster who’d been terrorising the village people for years now, and there was nothing they could do about it. So the case was closed, your loss mourned, then life went on thinking you were dead amongst the other random victims of the beast.

But to him you were anything but random or a victim for him to slaughter, only he knows ‘why you’. No one made it to the manor house, he resided in, alive not even him being dead himself; no one until you.

He’d kidnapped you fairly fuss-free, the only consequence was the nasty bump on the back of your head rendering you unconscious but manageable. He laid you in silks and vintage furs on a capacious bed with gold a painted frame and placed ice on your head in an attempt to soothe the ache in your skull.

You were scared into submission by the creature for the first few days - you could have mistaken it for the devil himself with red eyes that bored into your soul and sharp threatening teeth. He responded in short sentences, usually stern and held a disinterested expression that made his eyes look more menacing than he truly was. It was confusing to decipher what he wanted from you, he didn’t seem to want blood but neither to happy about your unwilling company.

“I wanted you, so I took you. Lets not complicate it”

You’d come to learn that he wasn’t unhappy with you at all that was just the sort of face he has, being isolated for uncountable years meant his emotional awareness and expressions had grown rusty to say the least. You’d learn he just liked to be in the same room as you, he didn’t toy with you or worse, he came to sit in the corner of your bed room one in a while and read or write while you busied yourself with one of the many things he gifted you (found laying around in a draw unused for many years) or slept.

In fact he let you get away with a lot like how you’d try everything from retaliating verbally or physically but he’d only respond with a scowl of disapproval or a strong grip around your wrist briefly to remind you just who he was. He knows all about the grieving process having been through it and seen people go through it over and over, so he’d let you grieve over your lost life but doesn’t appreciate when you get really rowdy; bringing you back to earth with tough-love.

...

At some point during the first year of being kidnapped you’d given into harsh-reality, noticing there was no chance of escape as he hears your every foot step, and that even if you did there would be nowhere to go. Seeing you become more obedient encouraged him to soften a bit more, to meet you in the middle, and you let him grow closer after noticing his intentions couldn’t be that bad since he had yet to hurt you or bite you.

There are still arguments, nights where it would all become to much for you and you’d blow up in a emotional rage, demanding you go home or ‘what his intentions are’ and why did it have to be you specifically. So he’d let you hit and shout until you grow tired and your throat sore, wordlessly he’d pull you into his chest where you’d be forced to stay for the next hour. Doesn’t really take anything to heart during these arguments, he knows -at most- a centuries time you will be happy and love him maybe as half as much as he loves you.

Other nights his frustrations get the best of him and he shouts back, demanding ‘you get used to it’ that your friends and family stopped looking for you long ago and he’s all you have now etc. You’d storm away to your bed and he’d sit frustrated in his chair for a while before quietly entering your room and joining you in your bed to hold you and whisper apology’s, making sure you fall into a peaceful sleep before he leaves.

Forced bonding through board and card games!

Of course he sleeps in a coffin, a luxurious one in the room next door to yours, and he wants nothing more than for you to sleep in there with him but wouldn’t bring it up until your inevitable turning where he make you a vampire just like him. You didn’t think he would let you die and leave him to wallow in heart break for the rest of eternity did you?

This man has had so much time on his hands that he’s messed around with most every hobby, most recently (almost a century) he’s taking a liking to the violin. Sometimes he plays while you sleep and no longer around to entertain him (downstairs, as far from your room to not bother you) and sometimes the muted melody wakes you up for a moment or weasels it’s way into the dream you are in. It comforts you a bit, chasing away the eerie silence followed by creaks and scratching of the old manor house that would make sleep harder to come by and even harder to keep.

[goodnightmemes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

episodes: s01e05 - s01e07

❛ I'm trying to think of something more fucked up than this. ❜

❛ Stay out of my head. ❜

❛ I care for him more than he cares for himself. ❜

❛ A whole lot of concern's been wasted on you these past months. ❜

❛ Where are the bodies? ❜

❛ Well, then, I guess you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good. ❜

❛ You gonna let him do this to me? ❜

❛I'm never gonna forget what happened here. I hate you both. ❜

❛ Sounds like there's a maniac on the loose. ❜

❛ So much wine in his blood. And beer and whisky. ❜

❛ Happy? We were not happy. ❜

❛ Who am I supposed to love? ���

❛ Why can't I make one? No matter how much blood I give them, they just lie there gaspin'. ❜

❛ What is this? Look at me. What have you done? ❜

❛ If you could find them, which you won't, they would shred you to strips, because you are built like a bird - because you are a mistake. ❜

❛ He treats us like shit and you take it! Why is that? ❜

❛ Been following you. You ain't been your careful self. ❜

❛ Don't... Don't run off. ❜

❛ Poor dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders. ❜

❛ Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you. ❜

❛ Assume we are under suspicion. ❜

❛ We should leave the city, start anew. ❜

❛ Should I do like you instead? Read the first pages of every book, pass myself off as cultured? ❜

❛ You draw me into your gloom. ❜

❛ So, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good. ❜

❛ If what I've read is lies, then tell me what's true. ❜

❛ The vampires out there are vicious. Oh...but you've learned that already. ❜

❛ Come with me!  I thought I could live without you, but I was wrong. ❜

❛ His love is a small box he keeps you in. Don't stay in it. ❜

❛ I fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper. I never once harmed you. ❜

❛ Let him go. It's me you want. ❜

❛ Listen to me, and listen very carefully, my infant death. It was never you. ❜

❛ I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me... as I love you. ❜

❛ Just say it. Say, "I am never going to love you". It would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips...your quivering...hateful lips. ❜

❛ Excruciating pain was the proof I was still alive. ❜

❛ You know he's a vampire, right? ❜

❛ NDAs signed by any and all who cross the threshold, eh? ❜

❛ Are you still dreaming about our first meeting? ❜

❛ Are we the sum of our worst moments? Can we be forgiven if we do not forgive others ourselves? ❜

❛ You gonna be my knight in vengeful black? ❜

❛ Save your charity for the needful. ❜

❛ I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed. Let me prove it to you. I'm nothing without you. ❜

❛ If you want me to go away, just say so. I'll obey you. I'll leave your life forever. ❜

❛ This silence is cruel. And you were never cruel. ❜

❛ Write me a song and put your lover's voice on it? What the fuck is wrong with your head? ❜

❛ Put some clothes on and get the fuck out. ❜

❛ The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent. Lover, murderer, maker. ❜

❛ It's a bond that can never fully be severed. A bond like that makes you believe there are only two of you on the planet. ❜

❛ I cried. I called to God. I didn't want this. But I have a capacity for enduring. ❜

❛ We leave the damage so we never forget the damage. ❜

❛ She's grown very protective of me. ❜

❛ I ask these questions because I'm trying to understand you better. ❜

❛ I'm sorry for your losses. ❜

❛ I admire your steadfast pursuit of a game you clearly have no acumen for. ❜

❛ You're ugly when you act like that. ❜

❛ They don't appreciate you like I do. ❜

❛ You're like me. You like to laugh. ❜

❛ Well, now that I'm dead, I can be whoever I want. ❜

❛ I seek refuge from complaints when I visit you, dear. ❜

❛ He's the father of lies. ❜

❛ This life, it does a number on the head, on the soul... if we even have a soul. ❜

❛ When he hurts you again, and he will, come find me. ❜

❛ You don't need me. You think you do, but you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away. ❜

❛ You left without saying goodbye. Again. ❜

❛ Back in your cage, sweetheart. ❜

❛ We endure each other for [name]’s happiness. ❜

❛ I love you. I don't say it often enough anymore. ❜

❛ You threaten a life which will endure till the end of the world. ❜

❛ Are you a narc? ❜

❛ I want to interview you. ❜

❛ So...question. Can an immortal meet mortality? ❜

❛ We would spend our hours enduring, with little pretense of getting along, locked together in hatred. ❜

❛ Knowledge is the ocean's edge. ❜

❛ They say that Satan lives in this house. ❜

❛ Well, send Saint Peter our regards. ❜

❛ We have to leave this place. ❜

❛ Maybe start by telling me the plan? ❜

❛ You spend an hour alone with him and you're breathing in sync together. ❜

❛ I'll lose myself in him. ❜

❛ You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me. ❜

❛ I came to make peace with you. ❜

❛ No one's comin' to a party thrown by freaks. ❜

❛ You're gonna try to kill him at this party? ❜

❛ I mean, this is all good and... sufficiently creepy. What do you want? ❜

❛ Would you like to know the secret of immortality? ❜

❛ I wanted him dead. I wanted him all to myself. ❜

❛ I'm going to miss this place. ❜

❛ I was his, and he was mine. ❜

❛ Always the petty slights with you. ❜

❛ We are joined by a cord, by a cord that you cannot see, but it is real. It is real. ❜

❛ I have loved you...with all myself. ❜

❛ I'm happy it was you...here with me…at the end. ❜

❛ This horror that had been [name]...I stared helplessly at it. The thing lay still. ❜

❛ Murder? What murder? It was an act of mercy. ❜

❛ You didn't kill him. You spared him, out of some fucked-up idea you had about love. ❜

❛ We have to burn him. It's the only way we'll know! ❜

❛ You don't need a memoir. You need a hundred sessions of EMDR. ❜

❛ You've only heard half the story. ❜

❛ This time, I won't save your life. ❜

[areislol]

helloo! just wanna say that your writing is so good! could i request neteyam(or the sully kids), lo'ak and tsu'tey with fem! reader who's on her period? how would they deal with the bleeding and react? thank you ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

sully kids, tsu'tey x human! reader

ft— neteyam, lo’ak, kiri, tuk, tsu'tey warnings— mentions of blood, inappropriate language(sperm, etc.), might be ooc? can be seen as platonic/romantic for neteyam/lo'ak. tsu'tey and reader are dating/the female na’vi’s do not menstruate, fluff!! not proof read but i will later, hopefully. a/n— tysm anon! i've been thinking about the boys with reader who's on her period and then this request comes in, thank you!! also spider isn’t in here because.. no. i’m sorry to everybody who wanted him in here. anything with tsu’tey in it is in avatar 2, he’s still alive. unless you request or i write it during avatar 1. synopsis— when your period arrives, they are curious and scared about why you're bleeding from that area, you explain to them about the female anatomy.

"Wait... so you bleed from there every month?" they asked, you nod.

they stare at you in disbelief, mouth wide open and eyes bugged, you chuckle from their reaction, “so what do you have to do to stop the bleeding?”

you pull out a thick cloth from your satchel and fold it until it’s the right size. “this.” you say while holding it up

they exchange glances at the piece of cloth and you, when they don’t say anything and just continue to stare at the cloth and then at you, you sigh before speaking.

“i put it under where the blood comes from, and then i wash the cloth and reuse. if i can’t then i just get another cloth and then do the same thing, understand now?”

they squint their eyes, unsure of what to make of this, determined to make them understand you decide to teach them the (human) female anatomy.

sully kids x human! reader

Kiri, tuk and lo’ak were talking to each other, wondering what you were going to be teaching them, neteyam on the other hand, watched you as you walk around to find a stick to use, his eyebrows raises when he sees you running toward where the group was, a stick in your hand. Once you reach them you sit down beside kiri, using the stick, you start to draw a human body on the sand, a very poorly drawn human body, well at least what resembles a body anyway. Everybody leaned in closer to look at your drawing, “hm.. okay! so this is the part where the blood comes from,” you say, pointing to the lower part of the body in between the legs, “okay?”, they nod, kiri and neteyam look at you which prompts you to go on. ”So this area...”, pointing at the uterus, “is the uterus, correct?” you ask, when they nod you start to draw lines coming out of the uterus and out of the part(v). “This is the period.” you say, pointing at the lines. “So every month a female starts her period which should only last for a week, the uterus lining, which is like tissue from our uterus, shreds because the egg hasn’t been fertilized.” Upon hearing the last sentence everybody raised their eyebrows. ”What egg? do you have a egg in you?!” tuk questions, worry filled her voice, she almost faints. You found it hilarious that she thought that, then neteyam and lo’ak also asked if you had an egg in you and if you were okay, you could see the worry on their faces, shaking your head you giggled, lo’ak stared at you in disbelief, why were you laughing at this serious matter? ”No no, not a literal egg. it’s like a small little thing in our ovary, it’s one of the main things that you need to get pregnant. Once the.. sperm reaches the egg,  the egg gets fertilized and you know, you get pregnant!”, once you were done talking you noticed how they all look dazed, their smiles faltering, like they didn’t understand, but you could understand. I mean, you were quite literally saying words that they didn’t understand. Sooner or later after you stopped talking, they started to ask you questions, what is “sperm”? why is the female body so “complicated”? and such. Kiri and tuk would grimace, scrunching their face, even sticking out their tongue in disgust whenever you answered their or the others questions. Lo’ak and neteyam were both slightly disgusted but interested. You then go on to explain how some girls experience cramps and mood swings when on their period. Neteyam expressions seem to soften after hearing the problems that you, girls, have to go through, while lo’ak expressions seem to harden, why did you, girls, have to go through that? Tuk shivers when she hears you talk more about periods. They all were interested in periods, all paying extreme attention to what you had to say. Kiri laid her hand on your thigh, giving you a sorrowful look. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with all of that... i’m so glad that we don’t have to go through that.” Tuk nodded, agreeing with kiri’s statement. You placed your hand over kiri’s, giving her a gentle smile you spoke, “it’s fine kiri, honestly, i’ve had it for a long time now, i’m used to it.” You pulled your hand back, kiri doing the same. After a few seconds lo’ak’s eye widens, he was crouching down, but after something had popped into his mind he moved closer to you, still crouching. “How can we help you?”, his voice was serious yet it also sounded like he was worried. ”Hm, well there’s nothing you can do really, but i guess for period cramps something warm? having an extra cloth on you and listening to someone rambling and comforting them when they’re having mood swings.” you answer, putting on your thinking face. While you’re still thinking for more things, you dont realize that all the sully children are taking in what you’re saying and remembering, so next time you have cramps or is leaking they have everything prepared. Every example you give they’re taking notes mentally, Lo’ak asks you more questions so that he can be FULLY prepared when you’re on your period, especially when you’re early. Neteyam, kiri and tuk are nodding at everything you say, remembering what you’re talking about. Once you’re done explaining you notice that they are all eager to go off somewhere. They all looked like they wanted to be somewhere, right now. When you all say your goodbye’s neteyam is off to his marui, grabbing some spare cloths. Lo’ak is off to grab everything to make the “heat pad”, cloths and something soft and some sewing materials. Kiri and tuk both run off to ronal, the tsahìk to ask for some pain killers. ”Pain killers? and for what?” ronal spoke, raising her eyebrows, eyeing the two young girls. Kiri and tuk exchange looks and giggle before answering ronal, “nothing!” Ronal contemplates whether or not to give the pain killers to kiri and tuk but in the end she gives in. They would all fight for your thanks' and fight to help you really, an example, you’re sitting on a rock, your legs swaying in the water, the sully children are playing in the water, chasing each other in the water when you feel a sudden pain in your abdomen. It was your cramps, again. Sighing you reach into your satchel, putting your hands in the pocket you feel for your pain killers but after trying to grab nothing you looked into your bag, a look of devastation feel on your face. Neteyam heard your groans and whimpering, just a few feet away from where he and his siblings were. His head popped up from the water, gasping for air once he got up, he turned around to see where you were, once you were in his sight his face dropped, you were tightly hugging your waist, your eyes were closed shut, you mouth agape, groaning. Wasting no time he quickly swims to where you sat and hopped on the rock, looking up you see neteyam standing next to you, his eyes said everything. ”Are you okay? do you need anything? period cramps?” with his question you nod eagerly. Neteyam hurriedly rummaged through his satchel when he saw shadows in the water approaching you two, neteyam closed his satchel, he fiercely stood right next to you, fists balled just in case ao’nung and his gang were going to cause trouble to you and him. Once neteyam seems the familiar faces rising up and popping up and gasping for air he eased, “What’s wrong neteyam? you just left us- oh, y/n? are you okay?!” kiri rushed to you, climbing on the rock and sitting beside you, placing her hands on your shoulder, looking at tuk she nodded and tuk swam closer to you and sat on the rock with you, but before tuk could open her satchel neteyam interrupted her, “what are you doing?” Tuk paused, looking up at her older brother her lips curved into a smile, “just giving y/n some pain killers, why?”, tuk saw how neteyam glared at her, playfully if you can even call it that. “Was going to give her some too..” he mumbled, gripping your stomach you looked at neteyam and gave him a faint smile, giving tuk one as well. Lo’ak and kiri then hopped on the rock and started to question if you were okay, when you told them that your stomach hurt they both opened their satchels, they were about to grab the pain killers when they stopped. Everybody looked at each other with confusion, kiri and lo’ak smiled in mischief, both grabbing the pain killers and offering it to you. Neteyam stood beside you, watching his brother and sister offer their pain killers to you, he wanted to give you the pain killers that he had, to you, but he didn’t want to cause a scene so he let his siblings to their thing. Tuk frowned but after you gestured her to come sit closer to you her smile appeared, although she was wet, she was warm, and that made your stomach pain fade away slowly. While that was happening kiri and lo’ak were both arguing, saying that you should take her pain killers because she’s a girl, lo’ak gives her a look of confusion and disbelief. Lo’ak then went on that you should take his because he got it recently while kiri’s was probably a century old, which was of course, false. Neteyam sat down beside you and put his arm around you and tuk, pulling you closer to his body, and again, he was wet but still warm, so with the warmth of two people, warmth on your shoulder and warmth on your stomach you sighed in relief, stopping the bickering between kiri and lo’ak. They saw you with a smile on your face, eyes closed, tuk laying on your thighs, hugging your stomach while neteyam held you close, his arms around your shoulders with a smug look on his face when he sees the look of devastation on his sibling face. ”Good luck next time” neteyam states, pulling you even more close to him even though you two were practically in each others bubble. Kiri looked defeated, lo’ak frowned before sighing, “I’ll need it..” and with that he sat beside tuk, kiri following him and sitting beside lo’ak. Neteyam, lo’ak and kiri looked beyond the horizon, Neteyam hugging you closely while tuk slept on your lap. “We should get home, dad won’t like it if we’re out any later.” kiri suggests, lo’ak and neteyam simultaneously look at her, “no, y/n and tuk is resting, later.” Kiri rolls her eyes and huffs, standing up and jumping into the water to see the fishes, again.

tsu’tey x human! reader “What do you mean you bleed from there? are you hurt? should i call the tsahìk?” tsu’tey asks, worry filled his voice, “what? no! im fine, it’s normal.” you answer, holding back your laughter, he sounded way too serious for something that was normal, well, for humans anyway. Tsu’tey raises his eyebrow at you, giving you a small nod even though he wasn’t completely sure if you were okay but he trusted you, also since you were a human so your anatomy is different to his kind. You and tsu’tey stop talking for a bit before he breaks the silence with a question, “how do you deal with all of that? the.. ‘period’?” he asks, inching closer to where you sat. The first thing you thought of was the cloth, which was the replacement of a pad, humming you open your satchel and pull out a cloth, you then fold it until it’s the right size and hand it to tsu’tey, he was watching you with confusion written all over his face when he saw you grab your cloth. Tsu’tey takes the cloth from your hands and observes it, it looks normal, nothing is different other than the fact that you folded it. He looked at you, cloth in hand and doesn’t say anything, meaning that he’s confused. “Uh- so basically we just put it under our part.. so stop the bleeding from going everywhere.” you blurt out, with your answer tsu’tey nods, understanding you but not fully. You know that he doesn’t know much about the female body so you decide to teach him, reaching into your satchel you pull out your notebook and a pencil, you set the notebook down and move (even) closer to tsu’tey, you start to draw a human body, or what resembles a human body. “Okay, so this is our part, it’s called a “vagina”, that’s the proper way to say it, another way to say it is “pussy” but that also means cat.” you say, then you tell him to repeat what you said and he does so. You then point to where the uterus is, “this is our uterus, where the baby grows, the reason why we bleed is because our “egg” isn’t fertilized, so our uterus lining shreds, so we bleed because we don’t get pregnant and it’s like “oh! no sperm? might as well shred”.” Once you finish talking you look at tsu’tey looks overwhelmed with the information you’ve given him, to you it’s not a lot, but to him it’s a lot. Once tsu’tey calms down a bit, his brows furrowed before asking you a “serious” question, “do you have an egg in you?” he asks in a grave tone. He sounded too serious that you burst out laughing, while you’re laughing hysetrically he’s giving you a confused look before pouting, why were you laughing at his question? Tsu’tey puts his hand on your shoulder and tells you to calm down, in an attempt to calm you down, and you do. Once your laughter dies down you had to wipe your tears away, “now answer my question, do you have an egg in you? why?” and again, he says it in a serious tone that it almost makes you laugh again. Using all your will power you stop yourself from laughing and answer his question, you shook your head and once you do his shoulders rest as if he has been carrying something heavy on his shoulder. “They’re small things in our ovaries, we call them eggs. Without it we wouldn’t have any children.” Once you finish your comment tsu’tey gives you a nod and pulls his hand back. After explaining some things, like how some girls experience cramps which is when the stomach hurts, mood swings, when their mood changes very quickly, tsu’tey then asks if there was any way to reduce the pain or help the women, you give him a tender smile and answer his questions. While answering his questions, he’s mentally taking notes since he knows that you’re on your period and is taking notes so the next time you’re late or early he’s prepared, oh you don’t have any spare cloths? fret not! inside my satchel i have some cloths just for you! your stomach hurts? here my love, a handmade heat pad (it’s a cloth that’s sewed with something soft inside of it and was left out in the sun for hours) just for you. You also explain how some girls leak, meaning that their “pad” or cloth, couldn’t hold the bleeding (most times it’s heavy bleeding) and leaked, or the size wasn’t right or the absorbancy was poor. Everything you say, tsu’tey is taking notes, and when you tell him how some men get mad at their girlfriends for leaking he gets mad, like how could you get mad for someone who can’t even control something? Tsu’tey scoffs, he assures you that if you ever leaked he’d never get mad at you and would help you clean up, get you a new cloth and underwear if you feel too disgusted to walk, or if you can you can go get it. Once you hear him say that you give him a hug and you made sure to hug him tightly, kissing his cheek, “best boyfrien- no, mate, ever!!” you squeal. Smiling, he hugs you back while running his fingers through your hair, When you pull back your hands are still around his neck, his eyes are staring deep into yours, his yellow eyes with a hue of green never failed to make you awe, “i can say the same to you my love.” he states before pulling you into a kiss. To say the least, he definitely praises and respects women even more now, since you women carry babies and deal with all this nonsense.

note: if you would like to be added to the avatar taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy <3

taglist:  @winnithepoohh @nerbyrobotics 

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: im going on a cruise with my friends and family on jan 8th to jan 13th so i wont be writing for 5 days, literal hell. enjoy!! also i have others coming up to stay tuned bb.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

[oneforthemunny]

mafia!eddie

hurt

angst

i love your writing honey💗

tw talks about a pet being hurt. nothing graphic or severe and ends well ofc but i want to add that just in case!

"He's gonna be alright." Eddie whispers into the dark room. The light from the hallway pouring in, illuminating his frame.

Your eyes are raw, chest hiccuping with tears that seemed never ending, clutching Diablo close to you, nose buried in his fur.

It happened so quick, so fucking quick. You and Eddie in town, the boys with you, all on their leashes. You'd been talking, aimlessly window shopping with Eddie. You didn't see it, the shattered glass on the sidewalk.

Lucifer was leading the pack, he always was, ears perched and on alert. A yelp of alarm had you and Eddie both jumping, Eddie drawing the glock from his hip, pushing you behind him protectively.

Lucifer's yelp turned into a hum of whimpers, paw lifted, limping and raising frantically, a trail of blood pooling out. Your gasp had Eddie and the rest of the boys on edge, a cold prick of panic coursing through Eddie's veins.

He hissed at the other boys to stand back, scooping Lucifer up, all of you jogging to the car, tearing away to the vet.

They put Lucifer under, removing all the glass, stitching him up swiftly. You were nearly inconsolable, sobbing into Eddie's shoulder at the vet, the vet tech and vet sweating nervously when they'd give you both an update.

They'd let him wake up, put him in a cone, wrapped his paw in a cast, and sent you home with antibiotics.

"He might be uncomfortable for the next few days. A little sore from the stitches and how deep it cut into the tissue." You had wailed when the vet told you that. Eddie considered killing him for upsetting you.

Lucifer had to sleep in his cage, to keep the other dogs from licking his wound, messing with his stitches. He had whined once when Eddie was putting him in, and another wave of tears washed over you.

"He's already asleep, baby. They gave him medicine so he'll just rest." Eddie cooed gently, turning on the light, your watery eyes shining back at him.

"I know," Your breath stuttered in your chest, the three dogs in your bed sticking their noses in your face in alert. "I just- I don't like that he got hurt, and-and he was bleeding."

"I know." Eddie hummed sweetly, stepping towards you. "I didn't either. I just saw blood. I thought he'd been-" Eddie stopped himself from finishing his sentence, your wide eyed scared look making him pause.

"But he's alright, baby. The vet's gonna come check him every day until he feels better, alright? I'll make sure of it." Eddie was one step ahead, always. He knew you'd worry that he was hurt, that it was infected, anything, so he had Gareth ask the vet to come. They were more than happy to help out.

"I wish he could sleep in here." You pouted, lip trembling. "He's down there all alone." Your voice squeaked, throat closing with tears that had Eddie cringing.

Eddie sighed heavily, opening the door back. "Hades." He commanded, the dog springing to his feet. "Here. Come on."

When Eddie returned, you were still sniffling, but no sign of tears- thankfully. "Hades is down there with him."

That seemed to satisfy you. "You put their blankets on them?"

"Yes, baby." Eddie bit back a smile, unfastening his watch, slinging it in his jewelry box.

A pause.

"And their toys? The stuffed animals. Lucifer has to have the lion, and Hades has the bat-"

"-I got it." Eddie looked at you through the mirror. "They'll be alright. Ok? Don't worry. Let me take care of it. I'll make sure they're alright."

[thrashkink-coven]

So i want to start my practice but unfortunately i don't have the tool incense tarot card pendulum and especially i still lived with my parent. The deity i want to work with is a demon from ars goetia andromalius, i already did the ritual but i Haven't got any respond what should i do?

I received this ask in June so you’ve probably already figured this out but keep on tryin!

If you don’t have access to tools like a pendulum or tarot cards you do still have the option to do some good old meditation on your demon’s sigil. In fact you’ll probably be doing this way more than using cards or other tools. All you need is a pen and a piece of paper. On the front you should write your demon’s sigil. Bonus points if you can find a coloured piece of paper or pen that you associate with them. For Leviathan I would probably use blue, whereas I’d probably use red for Asmoday and green for Belial.

On the back of the paper write a short petition or prayer. Be sure to address yourself by name (doesn’t have to be your legal name, just the name that you identify most with). Detail what exactly it is that you want from them and be precise about how you want them to manifest. If you hope to see them in your dreams write that down. If you just want some mundane sign that they’re listening write that down too.

For example: “To the Great Lord Lucifer, keeper of the hidden gnosis and liberator of all, I Shi, your loyal devotee, invoke your presence and healing light. I request that you appear to me in my dreams, in perfect human form. I wish to see your face and feel your warmth upon me. I wait patiently here, in this, your temple (referring to the altar) for your messages to touch my heart. So it shall be, as it has been, and shall be again.”

For first introductions it’s always a good idea to bring offerings. Something as simple as clean water is fine if you don’t have access to incense. A piece of fruit, a yummy pastry, or a piece of candy works too. Some demons are more particular than others, but they almost all unanimously appreciate alcohol. If you don’t have access to wine or rum, white vinegar also works.

Now, you can anoint the sigil with blood. I usually only do this for my patron who I trust and feel safe offering dna to. Some rituals will insist that you anoint all your sigils with blood but it’s not mandatory in my experience. A simple kiss can work, as can just charging the sigil in your hands. Focus all of your intention into the sigil until it almost seems to vibrate with energy. Then, when you feel ready, you can begin chanting their enn if they have one. If not, you can come up with your own mantra. For example, I wasn’t sure what invocation to use with Hermes, so I always just repeat “Holy Hermes, Holy Hermes, guide my spell.”

As you chant, focus your entire attention towards every syllable coming out of your mouth, feel your vocal cords vibrate as your intention becomes sound. I like to say Lucifer’s enn deep in my chest.

As you do, continue to stare at the sigil. There is a good chance you’ll experience some kind of imagery or physical sensation. If you see a terrifying face or a graphic image, do not freak out, this is very normal. Not all demons are pretty lol. You may altogether have an idea or voice enter into your mind out of seemingly nowhere, that is likely your demon responding. You can respond to them aloud or in your head. Try to stay focused on the sigil as you do, don’t think too hard about your answers.

As an added step you can attempt to do automatic writing. This is when you allow a demon to take control of the muscles in your hand to create a drawing or sentence on a piece of paper. Whilst holding the pencil, completely relax and continue to focus on your demon’s sigil. Don’t resist the subtle movements that occur involuntarily. Sometimes this can result in amazing communication and sometimes it results in a bunch of gibberish. It’s worth a shot but don’t be dismayed if it doesn’t work the first few times.

If you don’t see or feel anything, that’s okay, these things don’t always manifest right away. Do not beg your demon to show up. They find it very annoying. Continue the ritual for a few days until you get a sign. Pay very close attention to the subtle details in your life.

You should probably recreate the sigil every time you reach out rather than using the same one from last session. You’re also perfectly okay to destroy the sigil either by burning or just throwing it in the garbage. Be sure to say goodbye and close down the connection before you destroy the sigil. If you do get a solid communication, remember to say thank you.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Did Someone Say Running Back to Fiction to Cope??

It's probably safe to call this Me Losing My Mind over Veilguard 5/??

One of the things upsetting me the absolute most is no mention from the Inquisitor about Varric's death. Perhaps the most integral storytelling mechanism and all around champion of reluctant heroes has been taken away from us, and one of the people he was closest to doesn't feel even a little compelled to discuss him with his apprentice?

I'm still a little dumbfounded, clearly.

Even if we as fans didn't deserve better, Varric deserved better. I've always believed that the better the character, the better a death they deserve when it's their time to go.

So anyways. In my smooth pea brain, I can't reconcile a world in which Lavellan shows up with her unconditional love blazing without first confronting and resolving the fact that her love has led to the death of one of her closest friends. So it's back to the drawing (writing?) board to soothe my disappointed soul.

I saw a version of Varric's letter to a Solas-mancing Lavellan that was datamined and ran with it.

One: All the Words Unwritten

Charter,

Yes, the trail went cold, but we haven’t entirely lost it. Solas left us a little farewell note. So I’m not giving up just yet. Maybe it’s gullible of me, but I know the Inquisitor feels the same: Solas isn’t too far gone to save. And she’d never forgive me if I didn’t try. But I don’t think I’m wrong here. Solas didn’t have to warn me and Harding off the chase when he could’ve killed us like the others who came after him. I don’t think he wants to do this. So, I’m taking the chance. Tell the Inquisitor…tell her I’ll bring him back.

—Varric

Her first tear spatters onto the parchment. The final sentence becomes an ink-stained massacre, and she throws it far away before she can lose any more of the handwriting she’ll never again see waiting for her above the seal representing his best friend’s house. Her palms bite into the unsanded wood, welcoming the bite of pain as she shoves back from the recovered tree stump she’s been using as a desk.

“Inquisitor.”

Morrigan’s voice doesn’t register, hardly rises over the sound of blood rushing through her ears like an open wound. Gods, wrong comparison . But there it is, playing out against the darkness of her eyelids every time she blinks to try and stem the flow of more tears. The wound in Varric’s chest, gushing with no one to hold pressure over it, to ensure the rise and fall of his sternum until help could arrive, no one to watch his back because the woman who did it best is no longer able to. This too, is her fault, and there has hardly been a conversation in the years that followed where she hasn’t looked into Varric’s quieter, sadder eyes and wanted to beg him for a forgiveness she knows he’d have frowned at her for needing. 

It had been her job to keep him safe now, her promise to Hawke that the choice to become another martyred hero in Ferelden’s bloody history wasn’t in vain. And here was the proof at last that she was every inch the fantasy-addled fool bards wrote about when inspiration ran dry. Here was the proof that her hope was a mantle, weighing down everyone around her until there was nothing left but blurred ink and bloodstained pages in the famed Inquisitor Lavellan’s wake. 

[a-ikuoliver]

Happy two year anniversary!!

I’d like to order three Jager Bombs. One for me and Mr. Plague daddy Overhaul over there. The other is for the girl of the hour of course 😉

(Psst- not sure if it’s my app but the links to your rules isn’t working ;-; I’d overhaul is a no go for you pls feel free to replace for Bakugo/Shinso. Whichever you’re more inspired to write 💚. Happy two years!!)

thank u bby! i appreciate the bomb for me too teehee i wrote this for shinso bc i don't write for overhaul but i think tumblrs been having issues with the links but thank u for sending one in either way! i hope u enjoy <3 birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

“can i get a jagerbomb? pl-pease?” your bright smile falters for just a moment when you try to keep your tone as even as possible at the spike of stimulation between your thighs, the slowly-dying battery kicking into life every few moments before settling to a low buzz again. shinso eyed you lazily, purple eyes looking you up and down, specifically drawn to the way your thighs squeezed together the moment you pulled yourself onto the barstool, before finally settling at your eyes.

“that’s everything?” oh, his voice is so deep, and you’re already so sensitive, the shiver running down your spine, your thighs nearly trembling at the low timbre.

if he was anyone else in this bar — drunk patron, high server — he wouldn’t have noticed the way you reacted to the sound of his voice, the miniscule changes in your demenour with every syllable that passed his lips, every letter senting a jolt straight to your aching clit. unfortunately for you, he’s awfully perceptive, noting every shiver, every jump, every squirm when he gets you your drink, and your second, and by the third he’s sure you’ve got a cute little vibrator tucked in the front of your panties; only half charged he’d guess by the way you kept wiggling, raising your hips into it as much as you could without drawing attention to yourself, despite how desperate you were to ride the poor toy until it either gave out or you did.

studying you from the far end of the bar, shinso watches you nearly choke on the drink when another strong burst of life from the toy, the surge getting you closer than the others had, your desperation to cum starting to show. glancing around the other customers, confirming all of them drunkenly dancing and cheering, you adjust in your seat, squeezing your thighs closer together, your eyelashes fluttering when you grinded firmly down onto the toy.

you’re so fucking desperate, nearly humping the chair the moment you think no ones watching you. hoisting himself off the edge of the bar, he stalks back towards the dimly lit corner you stayed in, a satisfied expression gracing his features when you froze in your spot, “you want another drink?”

his tone is bored when he gestures to the empty glass in front of you, but his eyes are anything but, lit ablaze by your nervousness, his violet iris growing darker when you stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes. leaning his forearms on the bar, he leaned closer, close enough you worry if he can hear the steady buzzing coming from between your slick, shaky thighs, “or did you just come here to get off?”

your chest tightens, your mouth bobbing open and shut dumbly, mumbling sounds that weren’t quite entire sentences, hardly even words, not quite managing to spout your innocence. the more you stumbled over your words, the hotter your face got, and the faster the blood rushed from his head, the more he wanted you.

“don’t bother trying to deny it, baby, you like geting off like this. with no one else having any idea what you’re doing over here,” he tilts his head curiously to the side, his lilac gaze as intense as it was when your eyes first met his, studying you, the way you squirmed the more he spoke.

he drops his voice, whispering lowly into your ear, “tell me you like it, and i’ll help you.”

your pupils nearly swallow your iris staring up at his wicked smile, your hips rolling subconsciously the longer he stares you down. parting your lips to speak, no sound escapes your wet lips.

shinso knows exactly what you want, but still, he scrunches his eyebrows, even going as far to cup his ear, “sorry, baby, what was that? it’s so loud in here, i couldn’t hear you.”

you flush again, finally mustering your voice, “please.”

quirking an eyebrow at you, he tosses up taking pity on you, hearing your sweet voice plead with him was enough to get his cock aching, but was it enough to get him to fuck you stupid? to finally have you cum? voice dripping in condescension, he whispered to you once more, “oh, sweetheart, you think you deserve to cum begging like that? that was pitiful.”

he stands back up straight to his full height, taking a step back from the ring-marked counter, his heart rate spiking when you gently circle your fingers around his wrist, god, his pants were getting tight, “please, i wanna cum.”