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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 4 days

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12: MENDING FENCES

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Bucky is finally trying to be more communicative about his feelings but you keep giving him things to worry about.

Word count 3.4k

Warnings: better communication between two idiots in love, insecurities, anxiety, panic attack, medical issues: surgery, allergies, anaphylaxis, tracheostomies, Tony Stark and is generosity is basically legend, Big Brother Steve is worried

"She’s stable." Steve told Bucky, the moment he sat down.

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. "Is she awake? Can we see her?"

"They’re taking her to surgery," Nat interjected, having appeared suddenly.

"How long will that take?" Bucky demanded. Surgery was never something to celebrate.

Nat shrugged, sitting down beside Bucky, the only empty seat in the waiting room that was filled by several other Avengers and Melinda May. Everyone was concerned about your wellbeing.

Steve glanced at Nat before turning back to Bucky. "They didn't give a specific time frame, but they said she's stable for now. That's a good sign, right?"

Bucky nodded, trying to hold onto that small glimmer of hope. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not after everything you had been through together. The memories of your laughter, your smile, and the way you always had his back flooded his mind, making his heart ache with worry.

Nat placed a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder. "She's a fighter, Buck. She'll pull through this, I know it."

Bucky managed a weak smile, grateful for the support of his friends. He knew they were all rooting for you, praying for your recovery. The waiting was agonizing, each passing minute feeling like an eternity.

As the hours ticked by, the tension in the waiting room grew thicker. Bucky couldn't sit still, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor emerged from the operating room. Bucky's heart leaped into his throat as he stood up, his eyes locked on the doctor's face.

"She made it through surgery," the doctor announced, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She's still unconscious, but the procedure was successful. She's a strong one, that's for sure."

Relief washed over Bucky like a tidal wave, his legs suddenly feeling weak with gratitude. He sank back into his seat, tears of relief pricking at his eyes. You were going to be okay.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back, a proud smile on his face. "See, I told you she's a fighter."

"Rogers!" Nat punched Steve's shoulder as he chuckled.

Bucky nodded, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. He couldn't wait to see you, to hold you in his arms and never let go. You were his rock, his anchor, and he would do anything to keep you safe.

"She's stable," he whispered to himself, a mantra of hope and faith. And with that, Bucky knew that together, you would overcome anything that came your way.

"Can we see her?" Nat asked.

The surgeon looked around the room at the crowd of people in the room before answering hesitantly. "Maybe just one person." He held up his forefinger.

Bucky stood up and was about to stride into the recovery room, when May grabbed his metal arm. The glare she gave him terrified even him, stopping him in his tracks while she walked into the room to see you. But he knew that she had known you longer than anyone else, you considered her your closest family. So he conceded, grateful that she left the doors open so that he could peer into the room to where you lay sleeping peacefully. His heart started beating faster as you opened your eyes and took May’s hand.

He craned his neck as a nurse blocked his view of your face. Edging forwards slightly, creeping closer to you. Would you want to see him?

You woke up in a daze, the beeping of machines and the sterile smell of the hospital room filling your senses. You blinked a few times, trying to clear your head and make sense of what had happened. Memories flooded back to you in bits and pieces - Priya, the Vrellnexian, Steve… and Bucky. Had he really been there?

As you tried to sit up, you winced at the sharp pain in your side. May was by your side in an instant, her face etched with worry. "Take it easy," she said softly, helping you adjust the pillows behind your back. She had never been a fan of physical touch, but it was much worse since she got her empath powers.

As you let the air out of your lungs gently, you felt the tension melting away slowly and the pain subsided. "Thanks," you croaked, voice hoarse from the tube that had been inserted in your throat for surgery. "What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens."

You rolled your eyes, focusing back on May just in time to see her gaze flick back from the other side of the room. You frowned at her, questioningly.

May shook her head, contemplating how much information to give you. You turned your head to follow her gaze but it was blocked by a cheery nurse who greeted you.

"Right dear, my name is Gertrude. I'm here to give you your first dose of antibiotics. Is that alright?" Her tone was so chipper that you could feel May tense with irritation.

You nodded, still drowsy from the effects of the anesthetic. May took a step back to allow Gertrude to do her job. The antibiotic felt like cold, seeping through your arm, spreading to your shoulder and straight into your heart. This was followed by a strange sense of euphoria, your heart was racing and there was a strange tightness in your throat and chest. A sudden craving for air filled your lungs and your skin felt like it was on fire, burning as though someone was prodding you with a thousand red hot pokers.

From a distance, you heard May’s voice calling your name and someone else, someone so familiar. You strained your ears, but it felt like you were under water and your friends were so far away. You did everything you could to swim through the murky waters, but something was dragging you under and you didn’t have the energy to resist. But the voice, you knew it well, you missed that voice. You clawed your way up towards it but the forces acting against you were too strong and the darkness surrounded you, until you sank into oblivion.

You woke dazed and confused, your eyes fluttering open to the dimly lit hospital room. The first thing you noticed was the tightness in your neck, the feeling of something foreign lodged in your throat. Panic set in as you tried to sit up, only to be met with the sharp pain of the tubes and wires attached to you.

You reached up to touch your neck, feeling the hard plastic of a tracheostomy tube. What had happened? Everything felt hazy, memories out of reach and it was terrifying. As you tried to make sense of it all, you heard a soft snoring beside you. You turned your head to see Bucky, sitting in a chair by your bedside, his head lolling to one side as he slept in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position.

"Bucky," you tried to speak but there was no sound. Instead you reached over with your hand, the one free from tubes. He was just about close enough for you to graze the skin on his arm.

He looked up with a start, his expression softening as your eyes met his. They were red-rimmed and weary, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by a look of sorrow. "I'm here," he said quietly, reaching out to grasp your hand.

You pointed at the trach in your neck and mouthed, "what happened?"

"Cricket, you had an allergic reaction. I didn’t know you were allergic to antibiotics."

You frowned in confusion, neither did you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d taken antibiotics and you wondered what they had given you. It was as though Bucky could read your thoughts, he grabbed your chart from the end of the bed and held it out in front of you so you could read the name of the drug you had been injected with: ceftriaxone. You’d have to make a note of that for future reference. Bucky put the chart away, but not before glancing at it himself, making a mental note for himself.

"How’s the pain?" Bucky asked, softly.

You lifted your hand holding it parallel to the mattress and rocking it slightly. Bucky nodded, sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, I should have been there for you. I'm so sorry." His words held a multitude of meanings.

In a flash, it felt like nothing had happened between you, his presence was the comfort you sorely sought and all was forgiven. You tried to speak, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that you didn't blame him for the past. But the words caught in your throat, the tracheostomy tube making it impossible to form coherent sounds. Instead, you squeezed his hand, trying to convey your gratitude through a simple gesture. But Bucky understood your unspoken message.

"I made a mistake," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you didn’t care about me. But I know now that I was wrong. You’ve always been there for me. I miss our… us and I want to make things right."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Bucky, the weight of his words sinking in. You had never stopped caring for him, never stopped loving him. And in that moment, you knew that forgiveness was possible, that your bond could, not only be repaired, but had the potential to grow stronger. You reached out and pulled Bucky into a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, at the very least, your friendship would endure.

As your whole body trembled with emotion, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Nat standing there, her eyes filled with concern and anger. "Stop, Bucky. Leave," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the air.

But you couldn’t let Bucky go. Not now, not when you finally had the chance to mend things between you. You reached out and held Nat’s hand, squeezing it gently. Your eyes telling her what your voice couldn’t. "I need him here, Nat. Please understand."

Nat’s expression softened as she looked at you with an air of disappointment. "So after all the pain he put you through, all the crap, you're just gonna forgive him? Because he comes in here and bats those blue eyes at you and you just pretend these last 6 months of agony didn't happen?"

Your face flushed at her words, not wanting to look over at Bucky to see his reaction. But you knew he hadn’t let go of your hand, he wasn’t shying away from Nat’s allegations. You took a deep breath, trying to find a way to explain your feelings. But with the tracheostomy in place, all you could do was look at Nat with pleading eyes. You wanted her to understand that forgiveness wasn’t about forgetting the pain, but about moving forward and healing.

"You’re right, Nat. I know I have a lot of work to do to prove I deserve Cricket’s forgiveness." Bucky was talking to Nat, but looking directly at you. "But I need you to know that you can trust me."

Nat sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But if he hurts you again, I won’t be so forgiving."

You nodded, grateful for her acceptance. And as Nat left the room, you turned back to Bucky, who was still holding your hand. His eyes were filled with a mixture of regret and hope, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were giving him another chance.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just..."

You squeezed his hand, letting him know that you understood. And as you sat there in silence, the weight of the past six months slowly lifted off your shoulders.

Over the next few days, Bucky was at your side. Natasha and May took it in turns to glare at him so that he would leave to shower and get a few hours of sleep. He would sit with you all night and even though you urged him to go home and take care of himself, you were grateful for and comforted by this presence.

The days were filled with hard work and rehabilitation. You were determined to be weaned off your tracheostomy in record time, especially since you missed the taste of real food. And the catheter they'd put in your bladder was far from dignified.

On your fourth day, they put in a speaking valve and it felt good to be able to communicate again, even if it was just with short raspy sentences. Bucky was dizzy with delight when you greeted him by name. He missed hearing your voice, he would take anything you had to give him. Bucky wasn't the biggest talker at the best of times, he needed encouragement, coaxing into a conversation. It made you wonder how well he and Priya communicated. In the first few days of your recovery, he hadn't spoken much, preferring to sit beside you while you watched your favorite shows on the huge television that Tony had wheeled into your room before dragging a rueful Steve off to Thailand to neutralize a strange artifact giving off cosmic radiation.

Your powers helped you excel with speaking using the valve and you were allowed to use it for longer periods. But sometimes success didn't always work in your favor.

The following evening, after a grueling session of physical therapy, you fell asleep, only to jolt awake in the middle of the night in a state of panic, heart racing and your chest tight. You couldn't breathe. Panic gripped you as you struggled to catch your breath.

You sat up, gasping for air, feeling like you were suffocating. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the darkness pressing down on you. You tried to calm yourself down, to slow your breathing, but the panic only grew stronger.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, pushing you backwards. Bucky grabbed the suction tube and skillfully removed the mucus blocking your air passage, a task he had observed the nurses do countless times.

As your oxygen levels rose, Bucky shoved the tube back on the bedside unit and gripped your shoulders. "It's okay, it's clear now, you're okay," he reassured you.

But the panic still gripped you tightly, refusing to let go. Bucky looked at you with concern in his eyes as you took shuddering breaths between sobs. Without a word, he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

"I got you, Cricket. I promise I'm never letting you go again. I got you," he whispered softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

As you lay there, enveloped in Bucky's comforting embrace, the panic slowly began to subside. Your breathing steadied, your heart rate slowed, and the darkness that had threatened to consume you began to fade away. Bucky's presence was a lifeline, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggle.

With his arms around you, you felt safe and protected, allowing yourself to relax and drift back to sleep, knowing that Bucky would be there to watch over you throughout the night. And as you finally succumbed to sleep, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, grateful for the unwavering support of your friend in your time of need.

The next morning, you woke up with your face plastered against Bucky's chest, a ridiculous amount of saliva coating your mouth and to your horror, Bucky's t-shirt. You couldn't help but feel mortified at the situation. Waking up with your face pressed against Bucky's chest, drooling all over his t-shirt was not how you had envisioned your morning going. But despite the embarrassment, you couldn't deny the warmth and comfort you felt being so close to him.

Bucky chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "No worries, Cricket. It happens to the best of us."

As you sat up and tried to compose yourself, Bucky reached over to grab a tissue and handed it to you. "Here, clean yourself up."

You took the tissue gratefully, wiping away the excess saliva from your mouth and the stain on Bucky's shirt. "S’rry, B’cky. Didn't mean to drool all o’er you."

Bucky just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's no big deal, really. Just a shirt. Besides, it's not like I haven't drooled on myself before."

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, feeling a bit more at ease. Bucky always had a way of making you feel comfortable, even in the most embarrassing of situations. You missed the camaraderie that you’d had before Priya had entered your lives.

“How's the breathing?”

“S’rry fo’ ‘reakin’ ou’.”

Bucky just waved off your apology, his eyes filled with understanding. "Don't worry about it, Cricket. We all have our moments. I’ve lost count of the number I’ve had, this is the least I could do. I'm just glad you're feeling better now."

You couldn't help but smile at his kindness. Despite the awkward start to the morning, you were grateful that Bucky was still by your side. When it was just the two of you together, it was so easy to get lost in a world where he was yours.

“Di’ you sleep?” you asked him.

“A little… enough.” He added as your face fell. “Don’t worry about me.”

You were taken aback as the door to your room flew open, revealing Steve and Tony standing in the doorway with surprised expressions on their faces. You quickly sat up, feeling a rush of embarrassment at being caught in such an intimate position with Bucky.

Tony raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like we interrupted something.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He never answered back to Tony. Bucky had confessed to you that he remembered every detail of how he had murdered the Starks. He had never mentioned any specifics to you but you knew his subconscious would never let him forget. He told you that his dreams were like vivid flashbacks, they played behind his eyelids too often.

“T’ny!” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Tony's teasing. “Miss’on ‘kay?”

“Total success, Cricket. Thailand was pretty scenic, from what we saw on the flyby. I’ll be sure to take you one day, I think it’s right up your alley.”

You smiled gratefully. Tony had a way of showing his affection by showering you with gifts.

“Hey, why is this thing not on?” He tapped at the wide screen at the end of your bed. “I brought this to help aid your recovery.”

“An’ it’s workin’ marv’ls.”

“That’s fantastic! Well, we'll leave you two lovebirds to it then. Just try to keep the drooling to a minimum, okay?”

Steve and Tony exchanged a knowing look while both you and Bucky groaned in unison.

“Err, actually, I’m going to stay for a moment,” Steve said, hesitantly before turning to you. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Co’rse.” Now that he was closer, Steve looked tired and worried.

You watched as Bucky got up and left the room to use the bathroom, leaving you alone with Steve. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression serious.

“I was worried about you, Cricket,” Steve began, his voice filled with concern. “You and Bucky are like family to me. I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you.”

You felt a pang of guilt at causing Steve to worry. “S’rry, St’ve. Didn’t mean to put you thr’ugh that. Promis’ I’ll be more ‘areful in the future.”

Steve reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean to, Cricket. But please, promise me that you won’t do anything reckless like getting stabbed again.”

You nodded, feeling grateful for Steve’s concern and support. “Pr’mise.” You held up three fingers in a scout’s salute.

Steve smiled, his blue eyes filled with warmth. “Good. And remember, I’m always here for you. You can talk to me about anything, okay?” He looked at the door, the one that Bucky had just used to vacate the room.

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and reassurance wash over you. Steve had always been there for you and Bucky, like a protective older brother. You were grateful to have him in your life.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #my best friend's girl

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zeldaelmo · 9 months

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Congratulations on your two milestones!

Have fun:

“What do you mean you ate it?”

Hey B! Thank you for your prompt! This was fun. 😆 Thank you @flutefemme for betareading!

Imagine Link speed ran both games for this. He didn't do the tears quest apart from the one Impa half-dragged him into. Crack fic, kinda, takes place after the ending.

Of Rocks

Link peeks into the cooking pot and then back at Zelda who sits on a log and scribbles furiously in a notebook. He speaks up anyway; she usually gives him her attention if he keeps talking. Old habit from when he hardly got words out.

“I'll have to admit, I was a little confused earlier, you know, back with Rauru and… his wife. What did you say was her name?” He shakes his head to himself. Sometimes he thinks his memory took more damage than they thought.

“Sonia,” Zelda breathes absently and continues taking notes.

“Yeah, Sonia. Anyway, maybe you can tell me more about this Light Dragon thing.”

That makes her look up. She rubs her ink-stained fingers at each other, frowning when he underlines his words with the sign for ‘noodle’. Another old habit.

“Did it… swallow you?" he asks. "Kinda like the Calamity?”

The fire under the cooking pot pops and Zelda sighs like she always does when he brings stray animals home or weapons that are too good to be tossed away (they are!).

“You didn’t search for the geoglyphs, did you? Just like you ignored the pictures on the slate the first time. I even made them easier to find this time, they’re glowing in the dark and all.”

He narrows his eyes on her. “Zelda. You fell into the abyss when we accidentally stumbled over the mummy of the Demon King. You were gone. Poof, swallowed by golden light. So, no, I didn’t feel like searching for anything but you.”

She stares at him for a moment, but then she puts her notebook aside, and faces him fully. “The secret stone here”—she taps the golden, tear-shaped gem on her necklace—”it amplifies the powers of the wielder. It can also be used to perform a forbidden ritual that turns the wielder into a dragon who isn’t bound to the limits of time. Performing that ritual was the only way to heal the sword for you.” Her gaze searches the small clearing where they’ve set up camp on their way to Hateno. It's not far from where they fell from the sky.

Link points his thumb in the general direction behind him where the sword leans against his pack. “I got it, no worries. Didn’t forget how mad you were the last time when I rushed to the castle with a soup ladle.” He lifts the stew-covered one currently in his hand for good measure. Then, he mulls over what she said and tries to piece it together with the strange things that happened in the sky. Or realm. Might as well have been a different realm with the clouds, the hovering, and all that. He stirs the soup, watching her through his lashes. “So, the Light Dragon, that was you?”

“Yes.”

Now that answer came quicker than he had expected. “Huh.” He scratches his head. “So, the other dragons, Naydra, Dinraal, and Farore…”

“Were once priestesses who swallowed a secret stone to guard the springs eternally, yes.”

“Wait.” He leans the ladle against the brim of the pot and frowns.

“What do you mean, you ate it?”

“Well, it’s part of the ritual.” She crosses her arm in front of her, voice growing impatient.

Yes, yes, he should have tried to find more of the geo-thingies. They would probably have explained everything, but they've been through this before; he doesn't feel like dabbling when her life is on the line. And he didn't even have amnesia this time!

“So when you eat a stone that's fine but when I do it, you get mad?”

She blinks and blinks and blinks. He clicks his tongue. Seems like she has been mad at him so often that she can’t even remember it.

“Goronia,” he jogs her memory.

“Oh!” she calls and leaps up, the notebook toppling into the grass. “Oh, now that was completely different!”

“Is it now? You ate rocks, I ate rocks. Seems pretty similar to me,” Link says, unwrapping a dark clump directly in front of her eyes. His little diversionary tactic nearly works out when he drops it into the cooking pot and the whole content shifts to a dark blue, but she shakes off the urge to investigate.

“You ate the rock roast for sports. For me, there was no alternative to this measurement. I took the risk of losing myself entirely to give you a fighting chance!”

“Well, I saved diplomatic relationships with the Gorons, as you surely remember. And just for the record, it was a Rock Roast Flambé.”

“You are ridiculous and you know it.”

“Ridiculous, huh? The Princess of Hyrule causing a scandal by refusing to eat traditional food prepared especially for her? I saved your ass back then.” By now, he can’t help the grin tugging at his lips. Her eyes flash dangerously when he passes her a bowl of dark soup. "What?" He laughs. "It's true and you know it. Just admit that you're just as unhinged as I am."

"It was a sacrifice," she insists, blowing over her spoonful of blue soup. "For Hyrule. And you. Although you make me second-guess myself about the latter."

"Ah, come on. You seemed pretty happy to see me earlier although it has hardly been two weeks."

"Two we—" she starts, her spoon freezing mid-air and soup dripping back into her bowl.

"I know, I know, last time I only needed a couple of hours after I woke up. Rauru kept holding me back. Tricked me into thinking you were at the sky island."

"Well," she deadpans. "It sure felt like an eternity for me."

He knows he's missing something with the way she chuckles dryly, but she'll bring it up again later. He'll feel stupid for the things he said, then, but she says it's part of his charm, so he doesn't mind.

They eat in amicable silence, fire cracking and soup simmering. Farore buzzes in the distance, climbing the skies at her own, leisurely pace. Link's gaze follows her for a while, but then he turns back to Zelda.

"Did you chew it?!"

"Link!!!!!!"

#zelink #zeldaelmo writes #legend of zelda #totk spoilers #totk #I live for smart Link #But this was fun too

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burning-academia-if · 8 months

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I saw that RO ask and wanted to know if you can do another one because I like fluff, TO’s in crushing stage overhearing MC Talking to another student about how much they likeRO and wanna ask them out?

Somehow, this is x2 longer then the first one I think LOL

Also sorry, angst is just baked into Rook but the rest are a lot more on the fluff side!

Rook:

Normally, Rook is always at the wrong place at the wrong time. This time, lady luck has given him a break. The two of you had made plans to hang out, and for once Professor Miller let everyone out a little early. As he rounds the corner to where the two of you agreed to meet, he hears you before he spots you.

“I really want to ask him to go somewhere with me, but I’m nervous I’m going to scare him away.” He stops, searching for you just a little bit away. You clearly haven’t seen him yet, and on instinct he ducks back around the corner. He steels himself, searches his memory for anyone you might have mentioned being interested in, before he decides to stop being weird and just approach you.

But then your friend says, “I know Rook’s always been…Rook, but you guys normally hang out right? Maybe invite him out casually and test the waters to see if he’s more willing now to take things further?”

Like a dying star collapsing, his insides implode. It’s a symphony of feelings, all spilling out and biting at each other. The unbridled joy that, somehow, you want more despite everything. The headiness of wanting, tinged with the bitter aftertaste of knowing the fine line he’s forced to walk with you.

It takes a moment, a breath, to calm himself. Maybe this time he’ll be strong enough to take the leap. Maybe this time, he can allow himself a little hope.

For now, he pockets the moment inside like a lucky charm, before he fixes his smile into place and walks out to greet you.

Beck:

Beck’s surprised to get a text from one of your friends, asking him to join your guys study group. It’s half a plea and half a bribe, with a picture full of snacks and drinks attached as though they needed to do anything more than ask.

‘yea of course! just give me a sec where at?’

‘MC’s dorm!’

He finishes up what he’s doing before heading over. As he stops at the door, it opens up before he even has a chance to knock. There is something alight in their eyes that makes him wary.

It doesn’t stop him from giving his trademark polite smile and a tilt of his head, “Sorry I’m late.”

“No, you’re just in time.” They practically push him in before closing the door behind him. As he takes in the small living area, he realizes you’re not that, and based on the sounds, everyone’s hanging out in your actual room.

“—stop teasing me.” Your voice echoes, and Beck feels something in him go sharp. As his eyes slide back towards said friend, they dart away, and before he can ask you continue talking. “I honestly don’t know where I’d invite Beck out to. And you know how he is. He’s so nice to everyone I don’t know if I’m misreading the signs…”

There’s a round of voices all teasing, and Beck’s voice is as sweet and lovely as belladonna, “I’m hoping this wasn’t planned.”

“No! It was just perfect timing—”

Obviously, the others can hear the both of them. Beck tries not to sigh as he gives a light knock on the doorframe and peeking inside. You sit on the bed, surrounded by various books, notes, snacks, and other study essentials, with eyes as round as the moon. From mortification, surprise, or a mix of both is hard to say.

“Oh…hi Beck.” You look torn between looking away and maintaining eye contact. “Did…did you hear all that?”

“Just the important part, I think.” He can’t tell if the other two friends with you were also in on this. By the looks of it, they seem equally as surprised. He decides to ignore them. “If it helps, we can start with going out to lunch first and figure things out from there.”

The resounding chorus that comes from his statement is one he thinks you’re both going to remember for a while.

Rhea:

Rhea sighs as she makes her way back to the Student Government room. They’d just finished their SGA meeting and she’d accidently forgotten her phone. Although she can sometimes be forgotten, she can’t help but feel like she’s been extra scattered brain lately.

Maybe it’s because you were there. Being President meant she had to focus, but the whole time her eyes had kept glancing back at you. You’d sat a little away from everyone else, eyes unfocused and staring out the open window as morning light bathed you in gold. It didn’t help that affords you’d said you needed something and it wasn’t something she could help with.

That hadn’t stung in the slightest.

Another sighs makes it’s way out of her as she finally arrives back to the meeting room, she opens the door without a second thought, only to be greeted with “—You have to know where Rhea might like to go on a date—”

Your voice cuts off and she stands there for entirely too long as the words you just said get decoded from nonsense to reality. Her ears tinge red and she feels the heat try to claw at her as it works it’s way through her head. A date. You were asking her Vice President on advice for a date. With her.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Her voice sounds cooler then the mess in her head.

Eloise, her Vice President as the biggest grin on her face which only grows wider as she looks back at you.

You only stare at Rhea, clearly at a loss for what to say, “No, it’s fine.”

“Right. I just forgot my phone.”

“Right.”

“My God you two,” Eloise snaps, but there is clear warmth underneath her tone, “Just go on a date already.”

Her fingers are trembling, and she straightens her back and clasps her hands behind her back. Her voice stays even, “Well, if you’ll have me.”

A smile warms your face, “Of course.”

“Ok, well. I have things to do, but we’ll talk about the details at a later date.”

“Ok! I’ll text you.”

By the time she grabs her phone and leaves the room again she is practically walking on air. It takes everything she has not to squeal in delight the minute she’s out of your sight as though she’s back in grade school.

The sun is bright, the air is warm, and Rhea can’t think of a better day in her life.

Zoe:

The thing about libraries is that people really shouldn’t talk in them. It’s not the inherent rudeness of distracting people trying to focus, or even the obvious disregard for other people. It’s that, even when you were trying to be polite and keep a conversation down to a whisper, people could still hear you, and you never know who could be listening.

In this case, it’s Zoe. They’re boxed away in the study booth, and they don’t dare to turn around and even look for you. They can hear your voice, and they didn’t only register it because they’ve memorized even the slightest of inflictions it takes on, but because you’d said their name. Multiple times.

“I’m still torn between an art exhibit or a museum. Or maybe a botanical garden? Those are all quiet, and I know Zoe doesn’t like noise.” It probably would have been best to make their presence known the moment they heard you, but at this point it’s well into the awkward zone.

“Hmm, a botanical garden might be too far but I heard there’s a good art exhibit the next town over.”

“Really? Maybe I’ll do that then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. So are you going to text them before you back out?”

They sunk low in their chair, fingers tapping against the old wood of the desk and their concentration long since lost. A few minutes later, the light of their phone screen appears and they try their best to act normal and not give themselves away.

The text from you sits pretty on their screen, and they barely even need to read it to know what it says.

‘hey, I heard there was an art exhibit not too far from here and was wondering if you wanted to go?’

Even though they knew it was coming, their heart still did a strange little flip. They attempt not to think about it too much.

‘sure when?’

A minute later and they can hear your friend squeal and your desperate attempt to keep them quiet. They pray you never find out about this, for both your sakes.

‘whenever you’re free!’

‘I’ll lyk’

They flip their phone over before they can see the next message, press a hand to their face, and try to focus on their work again instead of the pleasant embarrassment still pumping through their bloodstream.

Lars:

The thing with Lars is, he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut. He’s also never been the best at staying out of your business, even with how badly he wanted to at first. It’s why, as he’s heading to class, he hears your voice coming from somewhere below.

“Asking him out is a bad idea, right?” You say, and he stops and glances down on where he is on the raised walkway. He catches you with one of your friends, and you look like you’re in deep concentration.

“Considering you won’t even tell me who it is, I’m going to go with a ‘yes.’” You flinch slightly, and they lean forward. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“I mean, he has his good parts! I just know he’s not always the best.”

Your friend narrows their eyes, “Who is it?”

“Well…”

“MC…”

“It’s not important.”

“Oh yes it is.”

“But—"

“Just say who the lucky guy.” He cuts in, leaning against the railing, one arm hanging over it. A picture of nonchalance.

“It’s Lars—” You snap finally, only to cut yourself off as you spin around and realize just who had asked.

His toothy smile was the equivalent of predator just finding it’s meal. Whether you withdrew because he never smiled or because he’s standing here at all was a mystery, but it only made it grow wider, “Friday at 8?”

“I—That’s—yeah.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.” He shoves himself off the railing, and continues on his way. Your uncomprehending gaze follows him all the way until he’s out of sight.

???:

“You must be interested in someone.” Your friend says as you walk back to the dorms together. “I swear you’ve hinted at it before.”

Anxiety slithers down your spine and you try to quell it, knowing it’ll only summon the one person who you don’t want to hear this conversation, “I mean, I am. But my romantic situation is a little…complicated.”

That’s to say, it’s hard to take the next step with someone when said person is a voice inside your head who won’t even share their name. Still, the longer the two of you were connected the more you felt a real connection instead of the manufactured one that had spontaneously occurred between you two.

“Ah, one of those.” Your friend gives you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and you try not to let it get to you. “I’m sure things will work themselves out and if not? It’s not meant to be, right?”

“…yeah.” Perhaps sensing your feelings on the matter, your friend moves on, but your thoughts don’t. It slowly turns into a cloud around you and by the time you’re back to your dorm, it’s stuck in your head.

How are you supposed to even have these feelings towards the Voice when you couldn’t even be sure if they were corporal.

‘Don’t worry about too much, little moon.’

You jump, tugging at the connection, “You were there the entire time, weren’t you?”

They give a light laugh, ‘I try not to listen in, but when those feelings are towards me, it’s obvious I’d feel them through the connection.’

“Oh.”

‘I promise you this. One day we will meet and when we do, if those feelings remain despite everything, we can be with each other.’

“I’m willing to wait.” Warmth spreads through your chest and they’re feelings for you and your feelings for them become impossible to tell apart.

‘And I’ll be waiting for you, too.’

#em answers #ch: rook #ch: beck #ch: rhea #ch: zoe #ch: lars #ch: ???#em try not to write so much for these challenge (impossible)#also unedited

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the-stitch-witch · 10 months

Text

Heavenly Murder Mysteries

I had A Moment, and I'm not sure if it's a galaxy brain moment, or a 'red string conspiracy ready for a padded cell' moment. Please tell me what you think.

Gaiman said, when season 2 was first announced, that he and Pratchett had conceived of the story as a murder mystery. He also said, several times, that season 2 was not the story they'd planned - it was the necessary prologue in order to be able to tell that story. Which is a big part of the reason he's so desperate to get a season 3, and said that even if it doesn't get renewed, he *will* find a way to publish the story.

This season relies heavily on altered memories - we have the repeated threat of being Unwritten from the Book of Life, Nina comments that 'this isn't right' and she feels like something is playing with her mind, and Gabriel alters his own memories before Heaven has a chance to. Jumping off of @ariaste ‘s awesome theory about Metatron re-writing reality, we have our mechanism for a supremely unreliable narrator. Beelzebub clearly believes the Extreme Sanctions - being Unwritten - are a plausible threat, but Crowley brushes it off as 'something we used to scare the cherubs.' We also have that *quite* intriguing conversation between Gabriel and Crowley - "I feel like an empty house. A house someone lived in for a very long time, but now they’re gone, and the house can sort of tell where the things used to be." That's a metaphor Crowley *gets,* and when Gabriel complains that his head isn't made for those memories anymore and trying to remember hurts, Crowley tells him, "I know. Do it anyway. Look at where the furniture isn't." We have the implication that the memory-altering mechanism is imperfect, and Crowley has at least sort-of learned how to work around it - looking at where the furniture isn't, the tracks left behind where things were removed.

We also have Iain Banks' novel Crow Road featured front and center - to crib notes from the Wikipedia article, 'Prentice becomes obsessed with papers his uncle left behind and sets out to solve the mystery... Prentice's efforts to make sense of Uncle Rory's fragmentary notes and the minimal clues surrounding his disappearance mirror his efforts to understand the world and his place in it. The narrative is nonlinear, leaping back and forth with little or no warning, requiring the reader to piece things together.' We also have the three slightly out-of-place mini-sodes, that establish three physical documents recording Crowley and Aziraphale's involvement: the Book of Job, Aziraphale's diaries, and the photo of the two of them together onstage.

I have my own theory that Aziraphale agreed to the Metatron's terms only because Crowley's existence was suddenly at stake, and he's going to Heaven not to be a good little worker bee, but a murder hornet, to use Crowley's metaphor, and do everything he can to fuck up The Plan. He knows this is probably a suicide run - he makes an offer he knows perfectly well Crowley will refuse, to cut ties and try to get him out of harm's way. He seems less devastated than we'd expect, when Crowley does refuse and storms out. A clinical warning sign of suicidal ideation is giving away treasured possessions, and Aziraphale deliberately chooses not to take any of his precious books with him - "Nothing lasts forever." This, from the same angel who set out to prevent the apocalypse because Heaven didn't have sushi! This would also explain his tight, anxious little smile at the veeeery end of the credits - he's one step closer to the goal he knows is probably going to kill him, but he's going to prevent this second Armageddon, or die trying. But Metatron is far, far more powerful, and can literally rewrite reality. This won't end well for Aziraphale.

This is our setup for season 3. Operating under the assumption that season 3 is going to be a murder mystery... I think the murder victim is probably going to be Aziraphale himself. He's been Unwritten, and even if Crowley can't tell exactly what's gone, he knows something is. Something big, some*one* he structured his life around for millennia. He can see the spaces where the furniture isn't, and enough records to start to piece it together.

We get the quote from Aziraphale, "We aren’t in danger. Crowley will be back in a moment. He will have a plan."Nina: "Why don’t you stand up for yourself? Make your own plan." Aziraphale: "Oh, I am. But rescuing me makes him so happy."

Season 3 will be both. Aziraphale does have his own plan to try and protect Crowley and the world by infiltrating Heaven, but I don't think he'll get away with it. Crowley will have to be the one to solve the mystery. Season 2 was, very much, Aziraphale's. He occasionally narrates, we follow him to Edinburgh, the action follows him and his neighbors and his attempts to get them together. Crowley has a few asides, but this was Aziraphale's season. Next season will be Crowley's, trying to solve this mystery and find a way to undo it.

...we had damn well better get a third season.

#good omens s2 #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens #good omens season 3 #good omens s3 #good omens theory #metatron #aziraphale and crowley

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liviavanrouge · 4 months

Text

Tired pt 4

"I'm a survivor"

Livia: *Stares at Lilia expressionless*

Lilia: You have guts to show yourself in front of me

Livia: *Walks past him, Mercy following her*

Lilia: Hey....get back here

Livia: *Continues to walk, heading back to her room*

"I'm not gon' give up"

Livia: *Flips through her book*

Mercy: *Carries over another book, setting it beside her and signing* Here's another!

Livia: Thanks...

Mercy: *Opens a book, reading through it*

Livia: Let's see if we can find something...

"I'm not gon' stop, oh"

Livia: *Carefully regrows a flower, her eyes closed as it's memories flashed through her head* Okay

Livia: *Carefully erases a few memories and returns them*

Mercy: *Gasps when Livia coughed up blot* Be careful!

Livia: Sorry, let's try this again...

Mercy: *Nods, hovering beside her*

"I'm gon' work harder"

-----

"Let the survival battle begin..."

-----

"I'm a survivor"

Livia: Huh...

Cynthia: Truthfully, I don't like all the attention on me...makes me uncomfortable

Livia: *Looks down feeling guilty since this wasn't the same Cynthia from her previous life*

Cynthia: I-I hope we can be friends!

Livia: *Smiles* Sure...we can become friends

Cynthia: Ah! Thank you!

"I'm not gon' give up"

Livia: *Flips through pages, her eyes narrowed*

Sebek: My Lady! This book is about Chaos! Sam gave it to me!

Livia: What!!

Cynthia: We'll be able to restore Mister Lilia's memories now!

Mercy: We're so close!

Livia: We are...

"I'm not gon' stop, oh"

Callisto: Is it bad that I wanna visit?

Livia: *Stares at Callisto, wondering how he knew she was here*

Silver: Who are you?

Callisto: *Stares at Silver with wide eyes then smiles* A friend of Livia's here

Mercy: HE MADE A CONTRACT WITH CHAOS!!

Callisto: *Looks sharply at Mercy* ..excuse me

Mercy: I COULDN'T SENSE IT BEFORE BUT I CAN NOW!! HE'S THE CULPRIT BEHIND ALL THIS!!!

"I'm gon' work harder"

Lilia: Huh...

Callisto: *Grabs Livia and tosses her at Malleus causing an explosion to do off*

Malleus: *Clears the smoke, his hand touching Livia's back keeping her mana from circulating out of control* A feeble attempt at getting rid of me

Callisto: Hah...I'm just here to take back my brother

Silver: *Perks up alarmed as Callisto looked at him* What...

Callisto: *Laughs, a dark spirit appearing behind him*

"I'm the survivor"

Sebek: He's being controlled! That's NOT Callisto!!

Livia: *Runs forward, her hair flying behind her*

Callisto: *Chuckles, his eyes glowing red*

Livia: *Leaps forward, her arms outstretched* CALLISTO!!!

Callisto: *Stares, his eyes turning aurora colored* Ah...

Livia: *Throws her arms around him* I gotcha!!

Callisto: *Wraps his arms around her abdomen*

"I'm gonna make it"

Zenovy: *Grabs Darkbane's soul, grinning as he destroyed it* I've been searching for you, sucker...

Callisto: *Sits up with Livia, looking ashamed* Thank you...

Livia: It's fine

Silver: Where do you think you're going!!?

Chaos: *Flinches as almost everyone glared at him* Uh oh...

Callisto: *Looms over Chaos* Return Lilia's memories, little shit...

Chaos: *Quickly claps his hands* Y-Yes sir!!!

Lilia: *Perks up the collapses, Araysh and Kuro catching him*

Livia: *Falls over, Silver catching her head*

"I will survive"

Livia: *Opens her eyes, finding Zenovy there*

Zenovy: Oh! She's alive! Almost took the poor girls soul!

Livia: Huh...

Lilia: Livia!!

Livia: *Stares with wide eyes* Papa

"Keep on survivin'"

Arian(Spirit): *Smiles, watching from the Crystal Pool*

Virda: *Snarls in fury and sighs* I give up, this brat keeps finding ways to undo what I've done!

Arian: Nice to see you've learned your lesson!

Virda: *Scowls at him and walks away*

Arian: *Looks back at the pool, beaming* Now I gotta go scold Lilia and give him a whooping!

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hes-a-rainbow · 2 years

Text

Heaven and Hell (Part 3) ~ e.m.

A/N: I’m not really sure if anyone is actually reading this, but if you enjoy, please share! I will be updating every Wednesday 🖤

Summary: After four long years apart, Noah and Eddie finally reunite.

Warnings: angst, idiots in love, talks of loneliness and past trauma (S4 events), blink and you’ll miss it mention of ptsd, mentions of scars, fix it fic, language, unedited mess

Word Count: 3.5k

(Divider by @silkholland)

Series Masterlist

AO3

Eddie has played out just about a million different scenarios since he learned from Harrington this afternoon that Noah was back in town. He thought about all of the things he wanted to ask her; all of the things he left unsaid on that fateful night four years ago.

And none of them had started with, ‘Hey Slugger’.

He had thought about it up until the moment he stepped out of his truck and clambered up Harrington’s front steps, letting himself in as the door was unlocked. He had made his rounds, chatting with his friends, and catching up quickly with Nancy and Jonathan before his nerves got the best of him.

He was searching the crowd non-stop for her, even though Steve had mentioned she would be arriving a little later, but his heart skipped in his chest every time he thought he caught a glimpse of her hair.

He finally realized that he needed some fresh air and a smoke and as fate would have it, there she stood. She looked ethereal under the harsh lighting of Steve’s porch but she was still just as beautiful as he remembered. She looks different now, curves having filled out a little bit more throughout her body, but he swears she is still the most gorgeous human being he has ever seen.

His brain sometimes does this thing where it has a mind of its own, and he couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out of his mouth until it was too late.

She just stood there, eyes wide and mouth constantly opening and closing like a goldfish, and for a split second, Eddie thinks maybe she��s in shock or something. But he continues to watch her as her hands roll into fists by her sides.

She squeaks out a small, “Hi,” before taking a step towards him, but ends up double guessing herself and she just ends up looking like one of those figures on those big yellow crosswalk signs.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, happy that at least she seems as nervous as he does, but definitely not hiding it as well as him.

“That’s all you have to say?” He doesn’t mean for the words to come out so harsh, he meant for them to be more casual, joking even, but again, his brain is spitting it out before he can catch up.

He walks past her, leaning on the railing on the front porch as he puts the cigarette back into his mouth, lightening it quickly. She waits for him to exhale before she takes a step closer to him. He notices her fiddling with the ring on her left hand, but it’s too dark to actually make out what it is. His heart leaps at the thought of the skull ring he had once given her, there was no doubt in his mind she had long since gotten rid of it.

“How have you been?” She moves her arms towards him, almost as if by muscle memory but stops herself to pull her leather jacket closer around her and crosses her arms over her chest. Eddie sees it all through his peripheral vision as he takes another drag.

He holds in the smoke longer than usual, not wanting to answer her right away as his mind races. He leans away from her as he lets out the smoke, choosing to tap some of the ash from the cigarette away first before turning to her, “Peachy.”

Again, it comes out too harsh for his liking but he just can’t seem to help himself. Every time he looks at her, he sees that night all over again, that night when she tore his heart in two and then left with the other half, assuring that he would never be able to love again.

And he had tried, fuck had he tried. The first year without her went by agonizingly slow. Every single thing he had reminded him of her, because how could it not? They had been together since they were 17. She was it for him; he had never considered a life without her. And he had always thought she felt the same way. But maybe he was just blinded by love, too young and naive to see that she had been pulling away from him ever since they defeated Vecna. He had put it off as her dealing with the trauma of the situation, they had all dealt in different ways but he was only able to make it through those first excruciating days in the hospital because she was right there by his side.

But she so easily left his side, even after always promising she never would. He had gotten used to it by now, people he cared for had been leaving him his entire life, but he just never imagined she would be one of them.

After finally getting his GED, he had put all of his time into vocational school learning everything there was to know about cars and he was even able to restore an old truck from scratch (which was still one of his greatest achievements to date.) Things started looking up for him, the owner of the body shop he worked at seemed to really like him and before long Eddie was promoted to manager. He was making more money than ever before, actually enrolling into more school by taking business classes at night at the local community college.

Turns out school was a lot easier when you were actually interested in what you were learning.

Three years later and here he is, proud owner of ‘Munson Auto Shop’ which sits proudly on main street and is the go to auto shop for the tri county area. He’s even managed to save enough money to buy a house. Nothing crazy, just a small ranch with two bedrooms and a garage. The extra bedroom was mostly just his ‘jam room’.

After he had purchased the house, he had a huge party and he finally felt happier than he had in years. But it wasn’t until everybody left that he noticed just how quiet the place was. The house wasn’t that much bigger than the trailer he grew up in, but it still seemed too big for just him. He always felt like something was missing or rather someone, but he couldn’t find it in himself to consider that for too long.

He had gone out for drinks one night with Steve and Robin, eventually admitting to them that as proud as he was to be a homeowner, especially at his young age, he hated going home at night to an empty house.

The next morning Robin had woken him up from a deep slumber by continuously ringing his doorbell. He was still rubbing out the sleep from his eyes when she yelled out, ‘surprise!’. She was an overweight, grumpy looking mutt of a dog. It was quite the change at first, Ozzy might not have been a puppy, but as a rescue it took both he and Eddie some time to get used to each other. Ozzy had quickly become Eddie’s best friend, much to Dustin’s chagrin, and the new mascot of Munson Auto Shop, driving shotgun with his dad everyday to the garage.

Eddie pulls off a piece of Ozzy’s fur from his black jeans, watching as it gets picked up and taken with the wind. Noah huffs out a breath next to him grabbing his attention once more.

“Guess I deserved that…” She kicks a lone rock off the porch and they both watch as it lands unceremoniously into the grass without a sound.

Eddie throws the remainder of the cigarette on the ground, stomping his sneakers on top to put it out. His eyes remain on his shoe as he speaks up again, “Sorry I–I don’t–It’s just…”

“It’s weird isn’t it?” Noah finishes for him. His head pops up to look at her and she has a small smile on her face which he gladly returns. “Yeah, it is weird.”

They both share a laugh together, and it’s almost as if nothing has changed between them. Like all of those years apart never existed and they’re finally coming back together.

Eddie takes a seat on the front steps and she follows by sitting down next to him, crossing her ankles due to her short dress. Eddie clasps his hands together as he leans on his knees, “Was it everything you dreamed of?”

She doesn’t respond right away, and when he looks over at her she seems confused.

“New York,” He clarifies, “The city of dreams.” He whispers out as he turns one of the rings on his finger looking away from her and out into the night, “Was it everything you ever wanted?”

Was it worth leaving me, is what he wants to ask; but he won’t.

He watches as she looks out across the front lawn of Steve’s freshly manicured grass; she seems mesmerized. Before she looks back over at Eddie, she’s shaking her head before finally responding definitively, “No. No, it wasn’t.”

If the years were kinder to them, he would ask what she meant, he would ask what happened, more importantly, he would ask if she had fallen in love with someone else. Robin said she mentioned it was just her and her daughter but to have a whole kid with someone…. Eddie shakes the thought out of his head, he was way too sober to go there right now.

He clears his throat, “Well, I’m sorry.” Noah looks up at him, seemingly surprised by his apology but he continues, “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for. You only deserve the best.” Again, the silence lingers on between them as they listen to the symphony of crickets around them, hidden somewhere in the grass. They both just stare at each other, as if trying to remember every detail of how they look at this very moment.

“Thanks…” Her voice cracks just the slightest but Eddie still catches it. His hand move to give her knee a reassuring squeeze, but he stops himself, instead putting them into the pocket of his jeans. He has to remember things aren’t like they used to be.

He takes a deep breath, looking over to her from the side of his eye as she picks at some chipped nail polish on her fingers. “So…you’re like a whole ass mom now?”

She looks at him as if he’s grown another head out of his neck before she bursts out in laughter. He can’t help but laugh along with her. He could tell it was one of her genuine laughs, the one she has when something catches her off guard and she can’t help the little snort that comes out. Her hand smacks over her mouth like it always used to, Eddie automatically grabbing her wrist and moving it out of the way like he always used to. He had always loved her laugh and her smile, but she was self conscious and would always cover her mouth. It felt like second nature to touch her again, but the way she retracts her arm from him tells him all he needs to know.

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly as he holds his hands up in surrender. This time his voice cooperates and it comes out soft. “No,” She’s shaking her head and leans over, resting her hand on his forearm quickly and giving him an awkward ‘pat’. “It’s just–”

“Weird.” He finishes for her. She reaches out for his forearm again, this time giving it a little squeeze. “Yeah,” she agrees. She pulls her hand away far too quickly for Eddie’s liking and he’s scared she’s about to walk away again. He’s very aware that she still has not even entered the party yet and he wants to spend just a little more alone time with her.

The night air is humid and Noah shrugs off her leather jacket, revealing the spaghetti strap of her dress. He tries and fails to not look at the slight cleavage she is showing. His heart rate picks up slightly among other parts of his body.

Eddie looks away, clearing his throat,“Is she cool?” As she places the jacket in her lap, she doesn’t miss a beat when she replies, “The coolest.” Her smile is so authentic and he can tell just how much she loves that little girl from the look on her face alone.

“What’s her name?” Steve and Robin had already filled in everything they knew but he wanted to keep her talking; wanted her to stay with him just a little bit longer.

She beams as she replies, “Scarlett.” He sees a twinkle in her eye he hadn’t seen in years and his heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his ass but he just nods his head, “Metal.” She laughs even though they both know how lame his joke is.

He rolls up the sleeves of his jean shirt, giving his hands something to do so they don’t reach over towards her like he so desperately wants too. He hears her breath catch next to him and his senses go into overload as he scans the area around them, checking to see if there is danger nearby; a side effect of the Upside Down.

“Eddie,” She whispers his name as she places both of her hands on his arm, this time with absolutely no hesitation. He turns to see her looking at his arms, her pointer fingers drags over the scars that he has since covered with tattoos, or more specifically, flowers. His scars were big and covered much of his body and for a long time it was something he was very self conscious about. Even after all this time, he still found himself wearing long sleeves in the summer more than what was considered normal.

He had decided a few years ago that he wanted to cover them up with something beautiful; to have life come from all the pain he felt. It started off slowly, but eventually both of his arms were covered in flowers. Roses, pansies, hibiscus, you name it. Intersecting with the flowers were tiny vines, thick with thorns and interwoven throughout the messy scars. It was his daily reminder that life had changed in an instant for him, but that even in the darkest of places, something good could still grow.

“Oh, uh yeah…” He reaches back with his other arm to scratch his neck, suddenly very self conscious about her opinion on them, “I decided to cover up the um scars, ya know? Didn’t like looking at them anymore.” His eyes remain on her hands and he can feel her gaze on him but he’s too much of a coward to look up; too scared to see that maybe she hates them or something. But it wouldn’t matter, he reminds himself; it shouldn’t.

She turns to face him more, the arm that was facing away from him now in full view. His breath caught just as hers did as he finally saw it.

A giant rose, blooming from a long stem filled with thorns.

It had covered the scar she had gotten during the battle of Starcourt, the mind flayers claws barely missing her as Eleven pushed her out the way. It was long before Eddie even knew about the Upside Down.

Noah had been working at the mall at some sunglass kiosk when she had found out about the underground Russian base from Steve and Robin. It killed her to lie to Eddie but she wanted to keep him as far away from all of that as possible. She had told him she got it escaping the mall that night and didn’t come clean until a year later, when he was faced with the consequences of the Upside Down himself.

He scoffs, his own hand reaching up to trace the design on her arm, his thumb brushing over the stem lightly. He could see goosebumps rising on her arms even in the darkness but he keeps his hand in place.

“I guess great minds think alike.” Again, Noah snorts, and Eddie can’t help but turn his head to the side as he questions her, “What?”

“It was Scarlett’s idea.” Eddie’s eyebrows rise against his forehead before she continues to explain, “As soon as she could talk she would ask about it, she was all, ‘Mama what’s that, where did that come from, why don’t I have one?’” They both laugh as she mimics the little girl's voice.

“And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth.” Eddie opens his mouth dramatically, eyebrows furrowed together so close they're almost touching. “Well, enough of the truth for a three year old to understand.” She continues, his fingers lazily tracing over the floral design “I told her I got this slaying a dragon. His talons barely missing me as a powerful mage used her gifts to save me.” Her eyes connect with his again, “I tell her stories before bedtime. Sometimes she wants to add things like unicorns or butterflies but it’s basically the same story over and over.”

Eddie can’t stop himself before he asks, “And does she know about me?” Noah studies his face for a second before replying, “She knows about Ser Edward the Brave.”

His face flushes as his heart just can’t seem to stop beating so damn fast. “And what’s your title in these stories, hm? Princess? Damsel in Distress?”

She scoffs, “Fuck that!” She nudges him with her shoulder as she confesses, “Obviously, Elven Warrior Queen.”

His head leans back as he barks out a laugh into the night, “Obviously!”

Their heads lean forward as they both laugh, Eddie’s hand still holding onto Noah’s arm. His stomach feels like it’s on a roller coaster as he reminisces about this feeling. Something he hasn’t felt since for four years now and he can’t help but wonder if she feels it too.

Both of their laughter slowly dies down and they’re suddenly just staring at each other. Noah opens her mouth to say something at the same time Eddie moves his hand to cheek. His thumb grazing her cheek lightly.

But the moment is quickly broken, both of them snapped out of whatever reverie they had fallen into when Dustin Henderson barrels out the front door. Noah immediately stands up, leather jacket falling off her lap and plopping on the step stones below.

“Holy shit!” Dustin just about wakes up the whole neighborhood as he races towards her. Eddie stands just in time to place a hand on her back, stopping her from falling off the steps as Dustin engulfs her in a hug.

“Careful, Henderson!” Eddie barks at the high school senior, hearing as his giggles mix with Noah’s. But Dustin doesn’t seem to notice or care as his words sound mumbled against her hair, “I thought Steve was fucking with us! But holy shit!”

It isn’t long before all the kids, even though they were much older now and about to graduate from high school in one month’s time, had spilled out onto the tiny porch of Steve’s house engulfing Noah in hugs of their own and all of them asking her questions at the same time. Eddie takes the interruption as a sign to leave, they were obviously just as excited and happy to have her back as he was.

He slips through Lucas and Will, shimmying himself through the front door as he hears Mike screaming something about a graduation party. As the door shuts behind him and he heads for the nearest alcoholic drink, he feels as if his heart is attached to a wire, pulling him back as he walks further and further away from her.

He feels stupid, having only been with her for a few moments and it has already brought back all of his feelings in a rushing tidal wave. He had told himself he would be better, at least have her work harder for him to accept her so suddenly again but here he was, welcoming her back with open arms almost as soon as he saw her.

And he can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way, because they were definitely about to kiss on those steps…right? What exactly was she about to say before Henderson interrupted him. It was just like all those years ago, when Henderson would randomly show up to Eddie’s trailer during the couples alone time. Noah was always too kind of course, welcoming Dustin in, who didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he plopped himself next to her on the couch while Eddie was forced to sit in Wayne’s recliner, a pillow on his lap for at least the next half hour.

Eddie rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, he couldn’t be thinking of those types of memories right now.

“Hey man, you good?” He hears Steve behind him as he claps a hand on his shoulder before turning around.

“Fucking peachy, Harrington.” Eddie states before grabbing Steve’s drink and slamming it in one gulp against Steve’s protests.

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memory-echo · 1 year

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The Root of Evil

“All parents screw up all children”, as Dr. House would say. In some ways, Seiko is not remarkable. There is something that separates her actions from a lot of other parents’ actions, though. See, most parents are trying to do right by their kids. They may fail miserably, but they’re trying the best they can.

What truly separates Seiko from everyone else is that she’s not trying. None of the past later events proved that Seiichi’s abuse started with good intentions. Quite the opposite, in fact. Seiko just confessed that she always planned to use a baby to fulfill her own emotional needs.

“In a way, I felt as if I were the baby soaking up my own mothering. I didn’t feel lonely or abandoned when I was with him. Every moment I spent with him was a convoluted way to mother myself.” What looked to the outside world like devoted parenting was in reality a way to satisfy her own unmet needs for attachment. “I was so blind, so totally blind to what I was doing,” she cried in anguish. “Where were the warning signs?”

This is a quote from a book called The Emotional Incest Syndrome, although could’ve come from Seiko’s lips. It never will, though, because she’ll never take responsibility for her actions, for destroying her son’s life.

Here’s another quote from the same book:

"All parents derive some degree of comfort and satisfaction from their children. Parenting is never a totally thankless task. If it were, the human race would have vanished long ago. No one could put up with the late-night feedings, the dirty diapers, the incessant crying, and the constant need for attention if there was nothing to gain from the relationship. [...] Some of the hidden joys of parenting are: increased physical contact; is increased intimacy, and unconditional love. Children love their parents regardless of what they do. Their need for attachment is so great that they can make a banquet out of crumbs. Imagine this typical scene: A man drags himself home after a hard day at work. He’s lost a key client, and his frantic efforts to contain the damage have made him an hour late for dinner. When he gets home, his wife gives him a peck on the cheek and chides him for ruining supper. His 4-year-old daughter, however, gives him a much warmer reception. She vaults across the room, leaps into his arms, and smothers him with kisses. “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!” His late arrival has only heightened her anticipation. Who can blame a parent for reveling in this devotion?"

She spent three years reveling in the glory of unconditional love, and then she tried to kill her only son. How do you justify that?!

And no, postpartum depression - one of my earlier suspicions - is no longer an option. There’s absolutely no evidence she suffered from postpartum depression. The pregnancy was not traumatic in any way, heck, the marriage was not traumatic in any way, even though these two people were never in love with each other to begin with. In spite of this, they agreed to get married. I always thought that the marriage had to be traumatic enough because she seemed desperate to get out of it. But I was wrong!

Was unconditional love suddenly not enough for her? Was it the fact that she doesn’t understand unconditional love enough to feel it when her son hugs her? Or was it the fact that Seiichi wanted to achieve little bits of independence (like tying his own shoes) that made her give up on him? Maybe it was the fact that you cannot use other people to make yourself feel better for too long. Eventually, you’ll realize that it doesn’t work that way.

And are we really going to forget that she thought about abortion? She conveniently left that out in her little ‘walk down memory lane’, although she had said it before in the court of law.

Many questions are still unanswered: why did she try to kill Seiichi the first time around? Why didn’t she finish him off when he could barely move? Why did she return home with him? Why can’t she just pack her bags and leave, if she’s so unbearably miserable? Why does she have to wait for police intervention? This bitch is so weird… She was the adult, she had an obligation to take responsibility for her own needs and her own happiness.

One thing is true, though: she destroyed the life of an innocent child for nothing, and none of this was accidental, and that’s why Seiko is a real monster.

#押見修造 #Shūzō Oshimi #血の轍 #Chi No Wadachi #Blood On The Tracks #A Trail of Blood #Seiko Osabe #manga #mangaka #character #Child abuse #monster #mother #murder #misery

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yupuffin · 1 year

Note

“Hey, mister,” says Sophie, a small girl of about seven who takes Dimitri’s class after school. She tugs at his sweat-shirt impatiently, cheeks puffed. The small one gestures wildly at him to come closer. Dimitri, in all his towering height, has to crouch down to hear her. She leans forward to whisper into his ear.

“I want to be a cool dancer like you someday.”

She says it like a secret and waits, eyes wide, for Dimitri to answer her. He leans in conspiratorially, looking this way and that, before whispering back. “You are already a really, really cool dancer.”

Sophie giggles as Dimitri stands back up, grinning. Sophie darts away to her mother, taking her hand to leave his studio.

Dimitri glances around his now empty studio. It took a long time and a lot of wrong turns in life to end up here, but after his metaphorical crash and burn, this is what he found in the ashes. He had danced as a child, of course. His father signed him up for classes the moment he showed interest, taking him after school everyday. Those are fond memories. He takes a deep, grounding breath to hold them in and fight off the rest.

He doesn’t dwell on his darkest times as often now. Back then, he thought his dreams would never come to pass. He wasn’t even sure what his dreams were, if he were honest with himself. But with help and support, he found his way back to his path, and it led him here.

The studio is quiet. It’s times like these that he’s learned to take moments for himself before Dedue calls asking to have dinner together, or Felix and Sylvain show up at his place with some random movie and force him to sit between them to watch it. Ingrid sometimes invites him to go horseback riding at her parents’ home. She often brings Ashe along with them, and Dimitri hears the ongoing tales of Loog until the sun sets. Mercedes and Annette may bake and show up at his door with more sweets than he can possibly eat alone, but they make sure he gets the crispiest or the chewiest textures. He appreciates his friends to no end.

For now, the studio is quiet, and he’s grown enough to revel in his solitude.

He goes through his warm-ups, carefully following routine. No rushing, he reminds himself. One step at a time. He will get there eventually. This is another of life’s processes.

When he finishes his warm-ups, he begins his newest routine, following through everything he’s figured out so far. No music, yet, though he has a song in mind. Rolling, twisting, leaping, his body was made for this. His muscles stretch at his command. His body was made for poise and strength, made to find the rhythm, the beat, and follow it to its end. When he stops, chest heaving with fatigue and anticipation both, he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Despite the unfinished, rough nature of his dance, energy thrums through him. Unfinished, yes, but full of life, full of potential. There’s still so much more to come, and he can’t wait to find it.

(Happy birthday!!)

THIS IS SO ADORABLE AND WHOLESOME! Thank you! I can see the inspiration likely came from my sideblog URL. 🤣

ngl I can totally see Dimitri (in a setting where he's not as traumatized) being a dance teacher, because the dance teachers I've learned from have all been really cool supportive people like Dimitri is of his allies.

#i could see dimitri teaching breaking. strength and athleticism comes in handy for the power moves and freezes #but you don't need quite as much precision as you would in the same way for ballet for example #you can do what works for your body and put your own spin on it #ask yu #fire emblem #dimitri

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casspurrjoybell-21 · 6 months

Text

Pirate Chains - Volume 2 - Against Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 5 - Word of Honor - Part 4

Agenor

Agenor: 'He's the one apologizing. My God. If I could wipe away the last couple of days worth of memory.'

He seemed to pause to think for a moment.

A few moment later, he leant in for an innocent kiss that sent a raging fire down my spine.

Agenor: 'How can a tongueless kiss carry so much effect.'

Before his honeyed lips left mine, I was more than ready to devour him but my perverted thoughts were interrupted by his sweet voice and words saying something that made me hold my breath.

"I love you, Agenor. I love you than you couldn't possibly imagine and I will never part from you as long as I live. I can't live without you and I promise from this day on, I will never try to run away... I'll never try to escape. I try much harder to be the man you can be proud of. I'll try my hardest to be enough for you," and he sealed his promise with another kiss.

His words played in my mind over and over again.

My heart felt more vulnerable and it's beat became more strong and warm and as I felt his tongue invade my mouth, I was a goner.

I fell in love with him right at that moment all over again.

Nyx taught me the true meaning of love and now I discovered that you can still fall in love once more with the same person even when the first love is still blooming.

Does this make sense?

And again I was in a sweet state of confusion that only Nyx could lead me to.

I stood there, letting the week lamb take control over my heart, my mind and tongue. I pull back in painful separation.

"Nyx, do you mean it. You don't want to go home? You want to say with me?"

The confident nod he gave me wiped the last shred of uncertainty.

"I do want to be home but I think my sense of home has changed. I want to be where you are, Agenor. I give you my word of honor."

I attacked his mouth and sucked on his lips hard.

I was sincerely happy.

Happy to know that I was no longer keeping him from what he yearned for.

I was certain he still loved and cared for his family but now he had enough to keep him by my side voluntarily.

I released him to let him breathe and I watched as he panted in my arms.

"You are enough, Nyx. You are more than enough for me. I know I am making you into a pirate, which you are doing a great job, by the way but even without making an effort, you are already the most courageous person I know. I love you so much."

I turned him carefully, making sure to keep him from slipping into the transparent lake behind us.

"Look around you, Nyx. This is a piece of the world that you belong to now. this beautiful nature is ours and more and that..."

I grabbed his right hand and raised it to point at the sea where the Martina stood proudly in a vast pool of glistening waves.

"That my love is our ship. That is our home."

Nyx nodded slowly and looked at me with a smile.

He wasn't nervous or scared anymore.

He was calm and I dare say he was happy.

I gazed at him for a long moment and only came to realize it when rosiness took over his cheeks but I didn't back down, I smirked at his shyness that I loved the most.

It was one of the best signs of his innocence and his unique personality.

"Nyx, do you trust me?"

"I do. I do trust you, Agenor."

I caught the hem of his shirt and undressed him slowly, then threw the shirt away and it landed beside his shoes.

He leaned back to avoid slipping and I held him close to me, a hand around his waist and a hand on his forehead.

"Look ahead and don't close your eyes."

"Eh... Okay but why? AHH..."

I took a little leap forward and we ended up flying in the air together only to dive along with the waterfall into the small crystal lake.

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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Lupophobia

Yandere "Escape Attempt" prompt - Razor

-------------------- Words: 8,944 Warnings:-fem reader, attempted noncon beastiality (none actually happens), yandere/captivity, noncon, biting, breeding, brief gendered themes/tones involving animal mating. Heavily inspired by my degrees of lewdity "deviant"/beastiality playthrough. I applied things I learned in college linguistics for this. Truly putting my education to a good purpose. --------------------- The fortunate thing about animals, and their adjacents, was that they were very easy to deceive, and no matter what, they would fall for the same trick, time and time again. "You see it girl? You want it?" You grimaced at the slimy texture on your fingers, wiggling the fatty slab in your grip and swallowing the sickness that came from looking at it. Out of, you supposed, ingrained social habits, you gave an awkward smile as you wiggled the meat. In contrast, the wolf had the opposite reaction, her ears immediately perked up, and she leaped into a playful position, front half low to the ground as her tail stuck up, and a low whine escaped her throat, eyes fixated on the meat. Yes, unlike with people, who had a greater capacity for pattern recognition and learning, who followed the fool me once, fool me twice mantra, you could count on animals to be easily deceived over and over without having to change the way you deceived them. This was far from the first time you had pulled this exact move, nor was it difficult to do -- you merely waited for a spare moment to rip out a chunk of the meat and hid it away for a little while while the rest of the pack was not looking, too absorbed in their own gorging to even cast a glance in your direction. "You want it...?" You repeated, wiggling the slab again in front of the wolf's eyes. Drool spilled out of the side of her mouth between her sharp, glistening teeth, and she let out another whine.

This was not the first time this trick had worked. This was not the first time you'd managed to steal and hide a hunk of meat away while the animals gorged themselves on the remains of whatever poor creature fell victim to them. Hell, this wasn't even the first time that this specific trick had worked on this specific individual wolf. You'd come to recognize each of them with time, even assigned them little names in your head by identifiers. She was a mother, one of the wolves that remained behind at the little den while the others went out for hunting, leaving only the nursing females, the smallest pups, and, well, yourself. Albeit in a weakened state in nursing, they were still easily capable of overpowering you, and, through means you honestly did not understand, they somehow knew they were supposed to prevent you from leaving. Even when you stood up, one or more of them would immediately pick their heads up, ears falling flat and even letting out the softest of warning growls.

She whined in front of you, eyes fixated on the slab. You wiggled it again. It was an easy deceit to pull off. "You want it... then go... get it!"

You hurled the hunk of red flesh as far as your arms could manage, and, exactly per plan, the she-wolf immediately bolted in the direction of the throw. And likewise, you turned on your heel and began the now-routine dash in the opposite direction -- the direction of human civilization. That had been the easy part.

It was the rest of the way that would be difficult. This time of day was the only opportunity you had to pull this whole thing off, but the sun was quickly setting, and unlike the wolves, you were not exactly gifted with night vision. You likened the route to an obstacle course, a puzzle -- repeated actions that became muscle memory. The first few times, you'd merely stumbled around in the woods for a few minutes. With each successive attempt, you retained more knowledge of the path, could clear a longer distance in increasingly shorter times, memorized landmarks, remembered little helpful actions and hindrances, and with each successive attempt, you found yourself making it closer and closer to the end of the woods than the time before. There wasn't much else to go by, so you used trees that stood out to you. The huge tree with the hollowed out hole in the center was the first landmark -- go right. The tree that had an oddly-angled branch came next. So on and so on. You measured success by how many of said landmarks you could pass in time, striving to make each a longer and longer venture every time. Just when despair had been finally getting the better of you, the last attempt had had you finding a footpath used by the Springvale hunters, and that meant you were close. If you could just find that again -- there. To say flat ground was a welcome feeling to your bare feet was an understatement. The slimy dirt texture of the forest floor and prickly leaves and pine needles was not a pleasant sensation. Nonetheless, there was no time to savor it or anything, soon, soon, you'd walk on paved streets, and floors, and, and... You stopped for a mere moment, panting, desperately taking in deep breaths to soothe the exhaustion burning in your chest. You darted your head from side to side. There was no sign of anything coming your way. No footsteps or growls in the distance behind you. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, as much from physical exertion as it was from a blooming, disbelieving excitement. I might actually make it. Your legs felt weak at the prospect, and you steadied your stumbling against a tree. You were certain you'd never made it this far before. It was difficult to process, almost surreal. After so, so, so many times, over the course of months and months, you were so used to being stopped by this point that your brain half-expected it at any moment. You'd really reached a point at which the escape attempts were almost done with a knowing futility, you no longer really had much hope when setting out, merely running on principle and the faint chance that was now so real. You could be stopped any moment. And yet, after a few more breaths, nothing happened. You shook your head to clear the dizziness, taking a deep breath and squinting forward in the twilight. You nearly felt your heart stop when you processed a shape in the distance -- a building. Springvale. It was distant and downhill, but visible. Right there within your reach, and all you had to do was go to it, so you steadied your breath and took off as fast as-- The world suddenly spun around you as something snatched at your ankle. Your shriek echoed off the trees, reverberating until it grew silent. A clanging of metallic sounds accompanied it, rattling hollowed objects triggered into motion. Everything began to settle, the sudden flooding of stimuli to your eyes and the feeling of sudden movement both slowing to a gentle sway. You were unbreathing, unblinking, heart pounding as your vision spun and, in a panicked haze, you desperately darted your eyes and head each way, struggling to process your senses. Your head felt suddenly tight and tense, your upper half heavy, and a burning pain wrapped around your ankle. Everything was... upside down. You looked down -- no, up -- at your feet. One was bent at the knee, falling in the direction of gravity towards your head, the other was extended perfectly straight, tense and unable to move. A cord was snagged around your ankle, a perfect tightened knot that wrapped around the flesh. You looked up -- no, again, down -- at the ground. Nausea lurched in your stomach as you did, seeing the forest floor a good drop below. You took a moment to process. You followed the trail of the rope from where it tugged painfully at your ankle, followed it to the branch it looped over, and down the trunk to the base of the tree, where it was securely tied around a knotted root. The metallic sound had come from what appeared to be collected garbage, metal scraps, a glass bottle or two, and some metal tools and cans all tied up in a net and secured to the spot where the rope met the branch, an alert that the trap had been set off. Your mouth hung open, you blinked over and over, before finally, bitter anger burst in your chest. "Ghhhhh!" You let out a frustrated, furious cry, thrashing wildly and pulling at your scalp. You kicked and struggled, but only succeeded in making yourself swing, making the nausea and dizziness worse. A trap. Of course. The furthest you've ever gotten, and you were stopped by a fucking hunting trap. Damn those Springvale hunters for coming this far out into the woods. It could be worse, you tried to console yourself. It could have been a bear trap, which would have more or less destroyed your leg, possibly taken it clean off. But nonetheless, misery and frustration bubbled up in your chest as you swung back and forth, slowing down to stillness. You'd never made it this close to town before. You could see the road as well, albeit just barely, a few hundred yards in the distance. You could make out where the dirt path became gravel in the distance, upside-down in the last light of the quickly-setting sun, and, as tears filled your eyes, you reached a hand out to it, miserably grasping your hand shut before letting your arm fall. It was so, so close! Now you were trapped, stuck here in this miserable, humiliating predicament, and you'd have to wait to be saved, and inevitably dragged back the way you'd come. You thrashed again, trying and failing to curl your body up and reach your foot. Your fingers just barely grazed the knot of the rope, but even if you could reach it, it was designed for your body weight to hold the knot in place to begin with. You let out a shaky sigh and a small sob, tears dripping directly out of your eyes and falling downward with gravity. You wiped your eyes, and a thought made a bit of nervous, daring hope light up in your chest. You were close to Springvale, right? Maybe you could be heard. This trap was set by the Springvale hunters themselves, right? You'd seen these types before, a snare that, when tripped, released on one side and whipped around the center of the force that tripped the rope, forming a perfect, tight knot around the ankle of the prey before hauling it upwards by use of weight. You took a deep breath and cupped your hands around your mouth. "Help!" You called out, straining out the vowel as long as you could, before inhaling a ragged breath and repeating the action. As the echoes quieted, you waited, but nothing happened. You wriggled and writhed, but only succeeded in making the net of metal rattle. You supposed it helped the hunters hear animals struggling, and led them to the source. But the hunters wouldn't be back out until tomorrow, you couldn't afford to wait for them to come rescue you on their own. You waited a moment, trying again and again to yell. The Springvale hunters, a traveler on the road, hell, you'd accept help from treasure hoarders if they hung out in this part of the wilderness. Anyone, anyone human. Well, except one, preferably, but still. Any other human being. You couldn't even remember the last human interaction you'd had. At least, a fully human interaction, without any licks or whines or growls or other canid behaviors you'd become far too accustomed to. But nobody came. You waited. Tried again. And again. And again. No response. Your head was beginning to pound and throb. You'd black out if you stayed like this much longer, and you were pretty certain it could even kill you. But nothing was responding to your cries for help. You wracked your brain in panic for a solution. An idea popped into your head. You'd seen Razor do it before, and the wolves responded to him even though he produced the sound with a human voice, so maybe you too could... It was embarrassing, but worth a try. You didn't exactly have many options. You jerked your bodyweight in the other direction, making yourself turn to face the woods in the direction you'd come from instead of Springvale. You reached your quickly-numbing arms up and cupped your hands around your mouth, forming your lips into an "o" shape, and, well, swallowed your pride. You didn't have any better ideas. "Awooooo--" You tried to mimic the howls you'd heard so many times as accurately as you could manage, but it came out a bit strained and comical. You waited a moment, and, receiving no response, whimpered in your desperation and tried a second time. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. You weren't certain exactly how it worked, you were pretty certain they had different tones they used, some for aggression, some as a cry of distress, but you weren't capable of telling them apart. You could only hope for the best. It wasn't really as if they could help you, but at the very least, they would probably go find Razor for you. They'd done so before, after another humiliating failure when you'd fallen into a hole in the earth during a past attempt. You'd learned they were far more intelligent than you once thought, and they understood things like that, at least. But gods, did this make you feel dumb. Your face heated with embarrassment with each attempt. You inhaled to try a third time, but as you did, a shrill howl pierced the air from a distance. A response. Your heartrate picked up as a little spark of relief and hope -- albeit dread that lurked in the back of your head -- made you shudder. You howled again, and received a second response. It carried on for a few minutes that way, sounding back and forth, and it sounded like the other was getting closer. Finally, you heard steps, and anticipation swelled in your chest. You were pretty sure that the response howls had been that of an actual wolf -- even you, in your time in these woods, had learned to tell the difference between Razor's vocalizations and that of the wolves. There were simply some aspects of the canid sounds that human vocal chords could only mimic, but not recreate to a perfect likeness, and thus his vocalizations were a bit distinct. Still, you could be wrong, or, even better, perhaps the footsteps coming close to you weren't an animal at all, but perhaps a different figure, maybe a hunter...? No, that was definitely a four-legged gait. That, too, was something you had learned to tell apart, a two-legged gait versus a four-legged one. It kind of came in handy when you were trying to to hide or run and needed to gauge exactly what was hunting you down. You craned your neck to the best of your ability in the direction of the sound. A creature emerged from the trees. You took a sharp breath. ...It was merely a very large, brownish-greyish wolf. It gazed up at you with big black eyes and ears perked up in alertness. You squinted. You'd never seen this wolf before. You were fairly certain of this much; during your time in the woods, you'd learned to distinguish between them pretty well. You learned the little differences -- this one was bigger, this one had a scratch on its ear, this one had a scar on its hip, this one was more brown and this one was more grey, and so on it went. This one was different from all the wolves you'd become familiar with. The wolf sat down, tilting its head at you, tongue lolling out as it panted. It was huge, muscular looking. "Help," you whimpered. As aware as you were that it obviously did not understand, you couldn't think of anything else to do. You flailed a bit in your desperation, and pointed towards the spot where the rope was tied to the tree. "Help me... Come on, please..." The wolf actually followed the line of your pointing, eyes settling on the base of the trap. And, miraculously, moved towards it. Your heart pounded. Did it actually understand? Would it help? It walked over and bit at the rope, shaking its head rapidly in the same way you'd witnessed the wolves kill small prey, or how dogs played with toys. It was helping! You shuddered again, hope burning in your chest, and a tear of relief dripping from your eyes upside-down to the ground below. And if this wolf wasn't from the pack, it wouldn't take you back, right? How, you weren't certain, but the other wolves seemed to understand the... arrangement going on. Many of your escape attempts had been thwarted not by your captor himself, but by the pack -- surrounding you in a circle, barking and growling and snapping at you until you were forced to turn back, even tackling you as you ran, biting your clothes and arms to drag you back. But this wolf would let you go, right? .... Wait a second. Cold dread suddenly made your stomach lurch. This wolf had no reason to help you, and no reason to drag you back. It had every reason to see you as easy prey. Any relief or hope you'd felt was immediately replaced with a chilling rush of panic. Yes, you would be easy prey, right there for the taking. You thrashed about, trying again to reach up and loosen the knot on your foot, but failing. Fuck. You were trapped between two unpleasant options. There was a chance the wolf was just helping, but in the end, it was an animal, not a person, with instincts of goodwill or benevolence. It would follow its instincts. Once you hit the ground, you'd have to run. That was the only solution. But... it also occurred to you only then that you were hanging a good fifteen feet or so in the air. Upside down. What if the fall knocked you out? Hell, what if it broke your legs? What if it broke your spine? If it were Razor himself, he'd lower you down slowly, but the wolf lacked the sense or ability to do so. You'd just drop. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was a thick coating of leaves on the ground, which would hopefully help, and this part of the forest had soft, clay-like ground rather than hard rock, but nonetheless, it was a long drop. Dammit! Your body wracked with a sob of frustration, anger, and panic. Why did all of this have to happen to you? You'd asked yourself that that plenty of times. You didn't do anything to deserve-- There was a snapping sound. You shrieked as gravity immediately sent you crashing down, world spinning around you, and you collided with the earth with crash that took the breath from your lungs; the sound flooded your ears, echoed as your head went numb. You landed directly on your back, eyes looking up at the trees and the sky beyond then as the world spun around you and your vision darkened. Pain ran through your body on impact, a rough, blunt sort of pain that ached through your flesh and meat and bones. You groaned in pain, teeth clenched as it flooded your senses, trembling as it slowly began to ebb away after the initial blow. The wolf's face popping into your vision sent you jolting back to awareness. It was startling, it's cold wet nose pressing against your own, and after a moment, it lapped its tongue against your face. Panic seized your entire body, and you were frozen, unable to move, not even breathing, eyes wide in terror. And then it licked you again, letting out a soft, tender whine. It was being friendly. You let out a shuddering sigh as relief washed over you again, and you thanked whatever god was looking out for you for granting you your life. "Th-thank you," you murmured, reaching a trembling hand up to pat the wolf's head, wincing at the soreness in your arm. It whined again, bumping its head against yours. Wolves were far, far larger than you were certain most people realized. Back home, you'd always thought that the howls you heard at night from within the safety of Mondstadt's walls were from creatures no bigger than the large hunting dogs you'd seen in Springvale. In reality, that was not the case. Even the smallest of the wolves were massive in comparison to those dogs, their heads easily twice the size of your own. You'd been utterly terrified of them in the beginning, bursting into frightened tears whenever one made its way over to sniff you in their curiosity, or dump an offering of a small creature's carcass at your feet in a show of friendliness (an unsettling experience, no matter how many time you were told it's good, 'cause they like (y/n)), or lick your face in an attempt to show affection. You'd grown used to it with time. But this wolf was even larger than the majority you'd seen, easily thrice your size in every capacity. Likely a loner separated from its pack. You were aware there were sometimes conflicts between the larger, stronger pack males that ultimately ended in the loser leaving the pack and heading off on its own, although it seemed nearly incomprehensible that a wolf of this size would lose to anything. Had it chosen the route of violence, you wouldn't have stood a chance. You laid there for a moment, head spinning as you took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself down and regain your sense of control over your body. You curled your fingers and toes, flexed the muscles in your arms and legs. You were a bit scraped up and your entire body still ached from the impact, but miraculously, nothing seemed broken. You closed your eyes, feeling the cool evening breeze and the wet tongue that was repeatedly lapping at your face. Finally, after a moment, with a groan at the ache in your body, you pushed yourself upward with your elbows, flipping over to your hands and knees, pulling your leg forward to stand-- The breath was knocked out of you yet again as a massive weight crashed down onto your body. You clawed at the ground, gasping to regain oxygen, body going tense. "Wh-what-" The creature let his bodyweight fall down on your frame, and you grunted as your upper half slammed into the ground. It rendered you entirely immobile, this wolf was both massive and heavy, you could barely breathe under the sheer mass of its body. You struggled to push yourself back up onto your elbows. "H-hey, what are you--" With a whine, it rutted its hips forward. Oh, fuck. "N-no!" You tried to rear up, pushing your upper half upward on your elbows as hard as you could, to no avail. Its weight was crushing. "B-bad! Bad dog! Stop!" You clawed at the dirt, gasping as it thrust again. "Get off!" It only let out the same high, throaty whine, thrusting its hips several times in quick succession, humping your ass with desperation. You could feel its blunt-ended cock digging into the flesh, making your blood run cold. When it rutted forward, the motion hiked your ragged little dress up, bunching up the fabric and exposing your cunt. You whimpered with fear, desperately trying to drag yourself forward. "Stop, stop, get off!" You thrashed again, achieving nothing by the action. The worst part, the dread that was quickly overtaking your thoughts, was that you knew it was futile. You'd learned a long time ago that your resistance would mean nothing, not by the brutal laws of the world outside of the fragile sense of safety human society provided. It was expected. It happened among the wolves themselves all the time -- the mates were not something that were chosen in the same way humans did. Too many times you'd witnessed the ritual -- the males would fight, snarling and growling and lunging at each other until one would give up and run scurrying away, tail tucked between its legs. Growing up with all the knowledge you'd learned from books and what humans generally observed of the animals, you'd always assumed that from that point, the she-wolves would then gladly and willingly copulate with the victor, but, you'd quickly learned, that was not the case. It had shocked you the first few times, your eyes widening and your mouth dropping open as you witnessed the poor females get tackled, mounted, their whimpers as teeth sank into their shoulders and kept them in place. It was brutal, and yet, you'd come to understand and accept it was simply the way things were. Perhaps the part that had shocked you the most was how accepted it was -- the other wolves would simply look on, adjusted to what was normal among them, and the brutalized female would, from that point on, act as a normal mate to what more or less was originally her assailant -- licking and grooming each other, sleeping next to one another, spending time with each other, all as if such a thing made sense. Given the acceptant, compliant state you sometimes found yourself slipping into, you supposed you weren't too different in that way. Because they're strong, you'd been told. Beating the other male and forcibly mating the female herself signified strength. They were supposed to try to run and fight, and the male was supposed to forcibly overpower them, a display of strength, of suitableness as a partner. That was why fighting back didn't matter -- it was supposed to be that way, in the minds of the animals, and thus they were content with that setup. The present moment was anything but content. Another rut of the wolf's hips brought you snapping out of your brief thought, back to the moment at hand. The forest was quiet aside from your own struggling, the last rays of light were fading from the sky, the moon hanging high in place of their light. You let out a shrill, squeaking cry, thrashing with renewed effort, but, predictably, not even budging. "Get off! Get off me! Stop it, bad dog!" No matter how you tried, you couldn't move your body in the slightest, perfectly pinned still. "Fuck..." It let out another whine, not even seeming to notice your struggles, grasping at your shoulder with its teeth, and you feared that if it bit down, it might shatter your shoulder. It rutted forward, and this time you froze, entire body going tense as the blunt head of its cock pressed firmly against your exposed slit. You finally managed to claw at the leaf-covered ground enough to pull yourself forward, if but just an inch -- and the wolf, snarling, thrust its own body forward to push you back into the same position. One of its front paws reached forward and clawed onto your shoulder, and you squealed as it pulled you back, forming a tiny cut in the flesh of your jugular. Your began to nearly hyperventilate, trembling, breaths shallow and quick. "S-stop..." Your plea was defeatedly quiet, realizing that further protest would only hurt you. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your back was bent at an angle under the sheer weight of the furry mass that kept you pinned, and it felt like your very lungs were crushed, breathing quickly becoming difficult. You began to feel your body tingling with numbness. It was so heavy and difficult to breathe you weren't certain you'd even survive if it fucked you. Panic seized your brain, overriding any coherent thought. There was a snarling, growling sort of noise that cut through the surrounding stillness. It wasn't coming from the creature mounted on your body. It didn't sound canid. It was human. Much like the howls, you had learned, with time, how to distinguish between the real and the imitation, those sounds that, no matter how long of a lifetime of practice one had, could simply not match the vocals of another species. The wolf stopped its motions, turning its head, and likewise immediately transitioned its entire demeanor, tensing up and returning the sound, a low snarl, baring its teeth as its snout wrinkled up. It dismounted your body and lowered itself to the ground, hips and shoulders raised as its core sank low, a preparatory stance ready to lunge. You fell forward, face crashing into the leaves, before scrambling upwards and falling back on your ass, propped up with your hands behind you and your knees bent as you froze, unable to move a muscle, eyes open wide and gasping for breath as air burned in your lungs. You could see red-orange eyes glaring in the moonlight from a short distance, and for once, the face of the wolf-boy made a wave of relief come crashing down, rather than panic at being found. He made another low sound in his throat, a snarling growl. His shoulders hunched up in a similar motion to the wolf, baring his teeth, glare locked on the transgressor. He didn't have a weapon on him, so his hands clenched into fists at his side. You'd witnessed this plenty of times in the past by now, but never before with him as one of the participants. The other male wolves within the pack hadn't exactly taken an interest in you, rather, simultaneously accepted you as one of their own, while seeming to recognize you as something of an "other," as they did him. Among them, though, these conflicts were regularly occurring, a constantly shifting hierarchal dynamic that was weighted in blood and pure brute strength. Your heartrate picked up anew. Strong as Razor may be, this thing was massive. And he didn't have his claymore, you remembered he'd left it near the den earlier, before going on his daily routine to check the various animal traps. This wolf could kill him. And given that it wasn't a pack member, it wouldn't hesitate to do so. The wolf took a few heavy steps forward, growling all the while, and the wolf-boy reciprocated the action, a deep low growl in his throat as he stomped forward, fingers curling into a claw-like shape, not exhibiting so much as the slightest hesitation to show aggression against the massive creature. You tried to stand on your shaking legs, but fell on your ass again. "W-wait, no, r-run," you stammered, words spewing out of your mouth before you could process them, "he'll hurt you--" Your vision went white, bright light exploded all around, a crashing, booming sort of sound cutting off your words. There was a heat to it that you could feel on your skin, but it blinded your vision, leaving you blinking as, in a mere moment, the electric energy faded to a purplish glow that sparked with a buzz in the palm of his hand. The wolf leaped back in terrified shock, immediately flattening its ears, turning and tucking its tail between its legs, scrambling with fear into the darkness of the trees. And just like that, the threat was gone. You were left slack-jawed, mouth hanging open, trembling and panting as you watched it disappear, footsteps growing quieter and quieter until they could no longer be heard. Instead, the leaves to your side crunched in a two-legged pattern as the figure drew closer, and then dropped down to his knees to get on a face-to-face level. You turned your head and your eyes met. His eyes were wide and pupils blown even wider, mouth slightly open, looking you over. His eyes had always had a softness to them, full of light. After a moment, he reached up, slowly, and wiped the tears from your eyes, a soft, unthinking gesture, and leaned forward. He nuzzled his face against yours, and, after a moment, licked a few quick, short laps up the side of your face. It was nothing you weren't very well used to, and you merely sat numbly as he did so. His eyes trailed downward, widening as they met the gash that had been created on your neck by the massive wolf's claws, and he leaned forward again, lapping at your skin. You inhaled a sharp breath at the sting of his tongue on the wound, but you knew it actually was helpful in terms of clotting, so you didn't resist. You sat like that for a moment, silent, still, letting him clean up the wound, saliva naturally helping the healing process. It was bizarrely intimate in its own way, but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd helped in that way with a wound. It stopped stinging after a moment, blood clotting under the wet warmth. He pulled his head back, looking over you again as if to ascertain your unharmed state, eyes wide and expression flat, looking directly at your face - your weary face, trembling lip, expression still uneasy from the remaining shock. "You... Okay?" There was a softness to his face, a wide-eyed look of innocent concern. You did your best to nod. Any hope you'd had left had been crushed at some point in the adrenaline of the encounter, and thus, all chances of escaping gone, defeat and weariness washed over your body, and you slumped forward in exhaustion. Of course, he was unaware of and most likely did not even consider why you suddenly fell against him, he tended to take any action you made at face value and accepted it as simply what it was, and likewise, every action he made was easily interpreted the same way. It was, you sometimes consoled yourself, a rather welcome simplicity in contrast to the hidden and subtle meanings that humans often portrayed through their actions, and you never had to worry about an innocent action being misinterpreted maliciously, nor did you worry that your emotions were too transparent in your actions. Instead, he merely seemed pleased by the gesture, eagerly wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling your closer, rubbing his head up and down so the sides of your faces nuzzled together, squeezing you tightly. "I heard you," he said, a cheerful sort of pride in his voice. "Came to help." You swallowed. "Th-thank you..." As much as his sudden appearance crushed any chance you had of reaching Springvale, you couldn't help but feel a genuine relief, even gratitude, for saving you from what would have undoubted been a highly painful and traumatizing experience, if you'd survived the lack of oxygen. Not that you weren't already getting your fair share of traumatizing experiences out here, but, well, none quite like what your experience would have been had he not shown up. After a still, silent moment of embrace, he released you, shifted and stood up, but then suddenly tensed, and his eyes widened with what seemed like surprise, or perhaps realization, mouth opening slightly. His eyes were cast downward, settled on the cord that was still tightly tied around your ankle, and reached down to loosen the knot, slipping it off and tossing the remaining cord to the side. You made a small sound as if to start speaking, but cut off and fell silent, shutting your mouth. And then, as he came back up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and processing, mouth slightly open as he looked a bit to one side, then the other, to you, and up to the tree from which you'd hung. The wheels were turning. Finally, after a moment, it seemed to click, his eyes went wide with realization for a split second before he turned his head back towards you and narrowed his eyes in a glare. His "angry" face had always been a bit difficult to take seriously, he had maintained a baby face despite his age, big eyes and soft features making it look like more of a pout than anything, but in time you'd learned the rightful amount of fear to have at seeing it. Your heart sank in your chest. "You ran away again." His voice was a bitter, grumpy mumble. You'd feared that when you noticed the surprising lack of anger up until a few moments ago. That it hadn't yet clicked with him, until now, exactly why you were out here, how you got out here, in the first place. He might have thought the larger wolf had dragged you out here, or, perhaps more likely, it had not crossed his mind at all in the intensity of the previous moments, too focused on conflict and comfort. "I..." You trailed off, trembling. There was a moment of silence. You couldn't exactly argue against it. It was true that he was rather gullible, and would often believe rather ridiculous excuses or explanations that anyone else would never buy, but there were limits to that, and at the present moment, you couldn't think of any excuse that even he would believe. Even if the wolf had come in to drag you away, the she-wolf set to guard you would have made a noise to alert the others, and he knew that. There was a moment of silence, and, not receiving any objection to his claim, he exhaled a frustrated huff through his nostrils. "I'm mad." As nice as it was that you didn't have to worry about being misinterpreted, another pro to your situation was that your captor was easily the most transparent person you'd ever met, bluntly honest, so much so it sometimes worked against him. You were pretty sure he couldn't be indirect or subtle with his words if he tried. Passive-aggressiveness or anything of the sort was foreign. "I'm sorry," you murmured, hoping to ease his anger, but you knew by now those words didn't really hold any meaning to him. He opened his mouth, that same pout on his face, and took a breath as if to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, looking at the ground for a moment, opened again, repeated the process, and again, before roughly shaking his head, head hanging and expression falling to something like irritation and disappointment. With other people, you'd feel more intimidated by silence, silence meant someone was angry and trying to get under your skin. And while he made no attempt to hide being angry, you knew the silence wasn't an intentional passive-aggressive act, but rather, just lacking the proper words. It was a process you went through frequently, and to some degree, you felt bad for him. Having feelings, having complex thoughts, but lacking the knowledge or ability to articulate them, being unable to adequately express what you thought and felt, limited to such simple terms as sad and mad, words that could only convey incredibly simple feelings... you could only imagine how frustrating that would be. He knew that those words weren't enough, but didn't have any other ones to use. You understood why, then, he grunted in frustration, kicking at the ground, sending a few leaves scattering. But you also knew that if he could not express himself with words, actions would have to suffice. You knew better than to expect any different. This routine, despite its variances in the specifics of how the events went down, went like clockwork from this point onward, the moment of defeat. They say humans are, after all, creatures of habit. You nonetheless let out a little surprised sound at the suddenness with which you were lifted by the armpits, quickly moved a few steps to the side and unceremoniously pushed forward, facing one of the many boulders that dotted the forest floor. Instinctively, releasing an exhale of defeat and acceptance, braced yourself against it, hands pressed into the rock. You were technically standing, but leaning far forward, bodyweight resting mostly onto the rock you were bending over on. His front pressed against you, hand pushing your back down into an arch, latching arms around your waist. There was no hesitation, no preparation, merely pulling the fabric of your dress up with one swift motion, and the waist of his pants down in another, all in a matter of a single moment, and rutting against you, once, twice, cock slipping against your folds, and on the third thrust, it actually slid in, pushing about halfway in with harsh force with no warning. You gasped at the sting, clawing at the rock as your face twisted with the slight pain, but his hand gripped hard on your shoulder. "Stay... Still." It was honestly impressive, you sometimes thought, to manage to get a cock inside you so easily with hip angling alone. He'd never thought to use his hands to do so, you guessed due to merely mimicking what he observed, as all humans did. Nonetheless, you let out a mewl at the feeling of friction against your walls as it dragged, pulling out a bit before slamming back in. Then again, faster. And again, faster still. And finally, setting into a rhythm, quick and harsh, your body lurching forward at the force. Defeat and despond had fully set in, and you made no movement to fight back, instead attempting to ease the discomfort by pushing back with the thrusts. And then, after a moment, it stopped. It often did -- again, a set pattern, a routine. Increasingly often these days, he changed his mind at this point, initially going with the instinctive, natural option, but it would take a moment to remember that there was an alternative. You shuddered at the sliding feeling and emptiness as he pulled back out, but even though you braced yourself, the air was knocked out of you as you were flipped over, back hitting the rock -- and this time aching as the bruising flesh from the earlier fall was hit again -- now leaning your weight onto the rock on your back, facing forward. The roughness with which you were tossed about and maneuvered was, you knew, not intentional, nor out of malice, but it always left you disoriented as your vision spun a bit. And it was only a single second before you were filled again, gasping a deep breath and reaching your hands out to claw at his back as you felt yourself stretched apart all in one motion, and your legs fell into the routine position of hooking over his arms. He liked it this way. The human way, he called it, with you on your back in some form rather than on your hands and knees, facing him rather than turning away, which had been the only way you'd done it -- you supposed the only way he had been familiar with -- for a good while. You'd introduced the position once when your arms and legs were exhausted from strain, and, perhaps to your relief, it became the most common way that the routine went down. You supposed that, deep down, no matter the way in which a person was raised, there were certain innate needs and instincts that could not be overridden, woven into the very biology of a person. For humans, intimacy, the feeling of affection, and you supposed that that itch was met for him more adequately this way. And he liked to mimic normal behaviors in that regard. You recalled a time ago, back before you were brought out here for good, the wide-eyed fascination with which he'd watch passing couples of people on the road and streets, would make an attempt to imitate the same actions, albeit lacking in the same gentleness, technique, or appropriate timing. Reaching out to grab and hold your hand (with a crushing grip) as you walked, awkwardly pressing your mouths together (so firmly that your teeth clacked and your jaw hurt). That, at least, had gotten better. Now, it was somewhat gentle, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Gentle, but still very awkward, lacking in the rhythmic motions with which you'd expect, more like holding still but pressing firmly against you, but lapping a quick lick to your lips. You could taste blood on his lips and tongue, a permanent coppery taste that never went away. That didn't last long. It was hard to maintain the mouth contact when he started rutting into you, causing your body to rock in jerking motions up and down on the surface, and his face buried itself into your shoulder, panting shallow breaths that were warm against your flesh. And again, like clockwork, you knew how the issue of your body rocking back and forth, disrupting the rhythm, would be solved, and you inhaled as you braced yourself, first for the tightening grip of arms around your waist, and then-- You gasped a sharp breath despite your mental preparation as teeth sunk into your jugular, opposite the one with the injury, further locking your bodies together. He growled, a low throaty sound. Teeth gnawed at your shoulder before releasing and sinking down in a different spot, digging into the flesh just short of the force it would take to break it. You cursed whichever god thought it would be funny to give him abnormally sharp canines. Even with your weight leaning against the rock, a good portion of it was still being supported by his arms, which, with any normal human being, you would hope would cause enough strain to perhaps slow down the actual thrusting, but you knew better by now. Nor did you expect any kind of buildup or anything, no, you gritted your teeth at the immediate fast pace that dragged against your insides, raw and with little fluid to lessen the friction. The quickness and suddenness always left you sore, your internal parts not having enough time or stimulation to expand or prepare, so each thrust that slammed into the top of your insides sparked a shock of pain and pleasure sensation so strong your entire body jolted with the feeling. The bruising soreness of the recent abuse to the same spot -- how many times earlier today, three, four? -- heightened the sensitivity. And, as with the rest of the routine, you didn't expect words. You couldn't blame him -- talking was hard enough when he was focused, you imagined it was much harder when preoccupied with sensation, and with less blood in the brain. It also made sense that he didn't seem to process anything you said either -- any slow down or wait fell on deaf ears, or rather, non-comprehending ears. Eventually you, too, fell into the same state- "I-- hah, ah, w-wait, mnn-" -- unable to form words, unable to take in anything around you, pure sensation clouding your brain of any and all thoughts. You heard your own little cries ring out and echo through the empty forest, and soft, pleasured whines in your ear, hot breath from panting that grew faster and faster as the thrusts became more erratic and harder, slamming in and out, the wet, slapping sound ringing out with your own voice. It pushed against all the right spots, stretching you incomprehensibly full, overloading your brain with the feeling, and the harder your nails sank into his back, the harder his teeth bit down into your neck. The sparks of pain from the feeling felt small, distant, erased by the overwhelming good feeling created by adrenaline and pleasure, and the thought of how badly it would hurt later was the furthest thing from your mind in the moment. And because you knew words meant nothing in the heat of these moments, you had learned that announcing or warning for orgasm didn't matter. Neither of you needed words -- as with many things, you could communicate it without them just fine. He could still sense it, the way you clenched and your hands grasped at his hair and raked down his spine, and in response, the thrusting somehow grew harder and faster still. A perfect and clearly understood communication as clear as any verbal exchange. The squealing you made, the way your body spasmed and your back arched, was better than anything you could have said, really. You weren't... actually fully certain he understood the action as anything other than communication, like a message indicating "cum now." You assumed that was what it meant to him, since, as always, you felt the movement stop, panting as he pushed into your one more time, holding your hips as close as possible as you felt a twitching inside. It was always perfectly coordinated like that. The peak was always too short, always that same burst of feeling that you wished could last just a moment longer, leaving you panting. Heavy breaths in and out, shuddering, sweaty flesh clinging to each other. You could feel the arms that held your legs up shaking with aftershock, forehead falling to rest against the spot between the mounds of your chest. Then, after a moment, a nuzzle, slowly rubbing a cheek against your collarbones. As soon as that stopped, his head popped up again, looking up at your face with those same wide amber eyes, soft and somehow, despite everything, they always seemed so innocent and bright. A curious, but fairly neutral, content sort of wide-eyed gaze. Anger resolved. Sometimes you were grateful it was that easy. "Ok. You're... good, now." You understood without needing it explained. "Good" indicated something along the lines of fixed or resolved, the phrase "you're good" indicating, in this context, resolution. You assumed it had originated from listening to others in some context or another. You swallowed, and nodded. There was no point in fighting now. A sort of numbing aftershock had set in, and your head was spinning so much that even if you ran, you might fall over on your own without the inevitable tackling. It was a struggle for another day... the same conclusion this always, always resulted in, a conclusion you reached more and more quickly each time, but you tried to put the concern that thought sparked away, merely standing on trembling legs. "...Stupid hunting trap," you muttered, giving the remains of cord a kick into the leaves. He tilted his head and made a soft hm? of confusion. "Th-the trap," your voice was raspy. "They laid out traps for - for catching animals, the hunters, you know." He blinked for a moment as he processed your words, then shook his head, but smiled, beaming with pride. "Mm-nn, I made it. Put lots of them around here." You squinted, head jerking up to scan the treeline - sure enough, now that you looked closer, you could see several treetops dotted with similar nets full of scraps set to make a sound when triggered and struggled against. In fact, the more you gazed around, you realized there were easily dozens and dozens of similar traps, some of different styles and shapes, all perfectly lining the edge of the woods before the road. "...You won't catch things like that," you muttered. "It's too close to the end of the woods." Another slightly confused stare. He shook his head. "Traps are... for you." You could always count on him for two things. Undying loyalty, and obtuse honesty. You blinked at him, expression flat in blunt surprise, then, with a crooked smile, you let out a single huff of bitter, tired laughter. You were numbed to the point that you were, at the very least, able to recognize the humor of it all. Another way of coping, perhaps. It only occurred to you then, as your thoughts cleared, how relief had washed over you when the lone wolf had run out into the night, but your mind had not been focused on your own violation. You remembered your words. Run, he'll hurt you. Your only concern in that moment had been his safety. The thought set off some sort of alarm bell in your head, but the utter exhaustion made it difficult to place much concern in anything.

Your legs were trembling in aftershock, numb and heavy, but it wasn't as if that mattered. Even as you briefly put a hand to the stone beside you to lean your weight onto in an effort to stand, you knew you wouldn't be walking anyway, that wasn't part of the routine. And sure enough, as you got about halfway upward, arms wrapped around your waist instead, and you were roughly maneuvered, tossed like a ragdoll, knocking the breath out of you as you were tossed over his shoulder. "Okay, we're going home, now." He started taking a few heavy steps forward, not even struggling in the slightest to carry your full bodyweight, instead walking as if you were light as air. You didn't protest. You slumped over defeatedly, merely casting your gaze all around, trying desperately to memorize the locations of at least a few of the traps in the dark, but knowing full well in the back of your mind you'd never get past them all. No matter how you may outsmart them, you could never win. It occurred to you that, in a way, you were the one falling for the same trick over and over, continuously placing a ridiculous hope in escape and falling for your own foolishness time and time again. Perhaps that made you a bit more like the animals than you liked to admit.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader

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lavandermin · 3 years

Text

from sea of flowers, garden of eternity | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 2k

genre | pwp, fluff, light angst, brief smut

note | glaze lily spirit reader, you are also in perpetual pain I’m sorry

“Xiao…” he hears your voice meekly call.

The adeptus is already on his feet before you can fully enter the room, his eyes quickly focused on you. He scans your body language diligently, looking for signs of pain or discomfort. It’s become a routine by now.

“Are you…?” His voice trails off when you shake your head apologetically. The slight strain in your smile doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m alright for now. The pains haven’t started yet. I think I’m set for another few hours, a day if I’m lucky,” you reassure him. “I just— wanted to check on you.”

Xiao gives you a blank look, one you recognize as confusion. “Check… on me…?”

“Just to see how you’re doing,” you clarify with a shy smile. As you make your way to sit on the bed, you gently pat the space next to you.

There’s a slight red upon his cheeks as he chooses to take up your invitation. The bed dips under his weight, and words do not need to be spoken to know both your minds drift briefly to past trysts that took place where you sit.

“I’m heading out to patrol the area in an hour. If you need anything at all, speak my name,” Xiao announces quietly. It’s a brief awkward silence as he rigidly sits next to you—tense almost. You answer him with a simple nod, hands absentmindedly rubbing little circles on your legs to ease the tingles of pain that slowly resurfaced.

Conversation was scarce the past few months you were placed into his watchful guard. The relationship you both harbored was a blurred line you tried not to think about too much for fear of over-complicating it.

And with your entire being, you could say you came to the unfortunate doom of falling in love with him. The emotional distance he kept oftentimes only confused you as much as your own emotions left him puzzled and a little flustered.

He kept you alive. That was the simplicity of the details Xiao was given. Perhaps it was a favor he was doing you, but he diligently carried it out with all the steadfastness of a contract bestowed onto him by the former Lord of Geo.

—

“I’m sure you are aware of the situation near Qingce Village,” Zhongli had brought up upon summoning Xiao several moons after the stirrings of a slumbering god.

Though the situation was previously dire, all was settled—Xiao knew this as a fact, for he was the one that swiftly took care of the aftermath of a dormant god’s power seeping through the earth. So, the battle hadn’t ended then…

“I was careless—“

Zhongli cut him off, carefully setting down his cup in its saucer. “On the contrary, this was in no way able to be foreseen by you. The world has a way of ending and raising new questions, just as easily as it provides answers to those who seek them.”

On the small garden table, Zhongli’s eyes trail to the glaze lily that sits in a small decorative vase. Unlike most, this lone flower is fully bloomed despite the time of day. It glows ever so slightly—weakly almost.

“You are aware that glaze lilies grow in the Qingce area, and there are a few wild outcroppings that shy away from prying eyes,” Zhongli starts.

His gloved finger reaches out to tenderly graze the petals, and at once the flower closes up. The petals take on a dullness, and visibly they start to wilt in small patches.

“The reasons are uncertain, but rumor spread around the village of a wandering ghost that followed the moon aimlessly. A spirit born of glaze lilies appeared after the battle that took place near there. It seems the power seeped deep into cracked earth among the flowerbeds.”

The young adeptus remained quiet, taking in the information. What exactly did this have to do with him, he wondered?

With a hint of apprehension, Xiao asks, “This spirit—has it taken on a malevolent nature?”

Instead of answering straight away, Zhongli wordlessly stands and makes his way back indoors. Xiao obediently follows, curious of the nature of this spirit.

“Nothing of the sort. However, these glaze lilies fell victim to the corruption of your karmic debt and at the same time were nurtured by immense adeptal power. There is a wavering balance that must be kept, for her body is as fragile as a flower’s and cannot withstand the depletion and shifts of adeptal energy.” With graceful steps, Zhongli stops before a door. “No other adeptus has successfully remained compatible with the energy she needs. So far it has only brought excruciating pain for her, and I fear she may die at this rate.”

With a silent nod, Xiao processes this information. His gloved hand is unmoving on the door handle.

“What are the terms of this contract,” Xiao silently asks, amber eyes trained on the door in front of him.

“My time has long passed to give you a new contract, Adeptus Xiao.” Zhongli chuckles fondly at the serious habits of the adeptus before him. “This is a choice I am giving you. It may take centuries for her body to adjust to the adeptal power she now harbors. If she is compatible with you, it is up to you to decide whether you supply her with your adeptal energy, otherwise she may not make it past next week.”

Xiao remains quiet for a brief moment before speaking softly, “Her body is tearing itself apart…”

“Correct.”

There’s something in that fact that stirs feelings Xiao isn’t used to in his chest. He accepts, and the first memory of you that adorns his mind is one that clenches his heart in a way he rarely experiences. The pain that twists and contorts your face as you desperately heave, body seemingly tearing itself apart in a way the naked eye cannot see.

You’re a beautiful tragedy born of moonlight and sweet soil. And in that moment when your eyes meet his, a single tear rolls down your cheek. He cannot fathom the thought of letting your life end as quickly as it began.

The door behind him clicks shut, and he takes your fragile life into his hands.

—

The lights of the house are dim—a subtle golden glow against a comforting darkness in the blanket of night. A meadow of glaze lilies surrounds the little cottage in a sea of fragrance. A prominent mark of your abode.

The little house defended by mountains is secluded, one which Zhongli sent to be made for you while your body stabilizes.

And though the exterior is tranquil, within its walls come soft pants and gasps. Xiao’s brows are knit together in concentration as he ruts against you.

“Please—Ah…nnh a–again,” you beg against your trembling body’s protests.

And he wordlessly complies, folding your legs until your knees are practically at the sides of your head. His hips pick up the pace and his thrusts become desperate, bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. The moans you let out are loud—obscene as he fills you up until you’re overflowing. The pains have long subsided, and you choose to let him overcompensate in giving you the energy that will get you by another few days.

In the serene calm of night, the tranquility is drowned out by the squelching sounds of your bodies meeting each other through desperate thrusts as both of you are sent over the edge. His name falls from your lips in a melody Xiao has grown addicted to. For the nth time that night you come undone beneath him, your essence stabilized.

There’s a swelling warmth in your chest that blooms like spring meadows as Xiao buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tips of his ears are a bright scarlet and though he tries to control it, he is still left a breathless mess as he rides out his orgasm.

“Is it…enough?” Xiao asks between pants, his cock still buried deep within you.

He’s still twitching within you and your entire body shudders with delight at the feeling.

“You… haah—can keep… going if you want,” you offer weakly. There’s a dazed look in your half-lidded eyes that makes Xiao’s chest squeeze. “‘M full but you’re still…”

Hard.

You glance down to where you two are still joined together, the view of his come leaking out of you shamelessly sending heat between your legs again. The tips of Xiao’s ears turn bright red though he tries to remain composed.

“I’ll be fine. You should get some rest to preserve the energy longer.”

He pulls out and ignores the way your eyes look away dejectedly. Before he can stand to go, your hand gently tugs him back down. Xiao allows himself to be pulled against you, his head resting in the valley of your naked chest.

“Stay with me for a bit?”

Xiao doesn’t answer right away, and your heart leaps when he lets out a little sigh and agrees.

“Alright.”

The minutes tick by in tranquil silence. Both tired bodies ignore the sticky feeling of sweat and sex. It’s a feeling you’re both quite used to by now.

“Xiao?” you start quietly after a while. He hums in response, your fingers running through his dark hair soothingly. “Can I kiss you?”

The question is soft, self-conscious almost with the fear of rejection. But you were beyond a breaking point. The feelings were welling up in your chest like a high tide as you felt him tense up at your question.

Sex was common—quite often as a means of easily transferring adeptal energy to you. And because it was a painful process to take in, you found that this method dulled the pain through the twisted pleasures and mixed sensations.

But that’s all it was— a means to keep you alive. You could never say there was a time Xiao kissed you and he always showed restraint in touching your body more than necessary. His bodily needs were never foremost on his mind and he would never tell you how his hands ached to roam your body, how this arrangement became an illusion of a different reality he couldn’t have. And so he locked away his emotions for his own sake.

Xiao lifted his face from your chest, his golden eyes wide with momentary confusion—perhaps even shock. And your face… those wonderful sparkling eyes that glistened with glossy tears on the brink of rolling down your face. He wished he wasn’t the reason you were crying.

In an instant he propped himself up on his forearms, feeling you lightly tremble beneath him from holding back the urge to cry. A quiet hiccup left you as you were overwhelmed by bottled up feelings all at once, his thumb gently brushing your tears away.

“Why?” was all he asked.

Though it was a genuine question, his actions remained tender and calmed the anxiety that gripped your naive heart.

“Because I love you—because I think I love you.”

Quietly you hiccuped beneath him and Xiao gently rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Then love me if it makes you happy,” he responds softly. The tears that twinkle down your face like falling stars are gently kissed away by his soft lips. “I’m with you until the day I die, and if loving me makes living less painful for you then use me as an anchor to reality.”

Your soft crying is hushed as Xiao presses a tender kiss to your lips. It’s short and just enough to bloom your heart with newfound emotions you had yet to experience. Perhaps you reminded the adeptus of himself in a simpler time—naive, innocent. For that, he took pity on you, and also fell deeply in love with you though he would not know it for a long time.

Simply put, he wouldn’t allow himself to know it.

The flowers that surround the small house glow and dance in the night breeze. They bloom with your newfound knowledge—heartache.

#adeptus xiao #xiao/reader #xiao x reader #zhongli #xiao just trying his best #genshin xiao #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin #light smut #smut #pwp #fluff #drabble collection: coffee break for two #drabble #soft #the concept of this is hor knee I’m so sorry

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benignbucky · 3 years

Text

Whiplash Pt. 2

Based on THIS REQUEST

PART ONE

AN: (MINORS DNI) This is probably gonna be the final part, I'm not super feeling this series anymore in all honesty so I'm gonna leave it as a mini series so we can get that resolution. I may come back to it later but for now I am happy with this ending. This could honestly be a standalone but the first part is linked above. Thank you for being so patient with me while I got this out, last weekend was stressful but this weekend is so much better. You may need a fan for the last half of this. ♡

PAIRING: stucky x reader, john walker x reader briefly

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: John Walker is the ex because absolutely no one likes him and we all know this man radiates tiny pp energy and would be the worst in bed, fighting, minor angst, mostly fluff and smut, unprotected sex (wrap your wang before you bang), threesome, overstimulation, squirting, HELLA praise kink, pet names (baby, peach, good girl), brief mentions of dub-con/non-con with ex, unbeta'ed (all mistakes are my own)

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

The memories of that night were burnt in the back of your eyes. Seeing your ex, John, for the first time in 6 months and he still had so much power over you.

The second you opened the door, tears sprung to your eyes as a barely audible 'w-what are you doing here?' escaped your mouth before he was walking in, clearly not noticing Bucky and Steve walking over with fury in their eyes.

"You need to leave before this gets messy." Steve and Bucky were easily twice his size, not so much in height but in pure muscle.

"Oh, so you're moved out and fucking both of your roommates. A whore like you would do that, huh?" John

You backed behind Bucky as Steve took the lead. "Listen, I don't care who you think you are but you don't just get to come back around after how you treated her. Let alone call her something she most certainly is not seeing as you're the one that cheated on her with how many women?"

"You may look all big but I doubt you even know how to fight. Useless muscle if you ask me." Little did he know that both incredibly skilled in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat. And that's all it took for Bucky to leap forward and land a bone breaking punch to John's jaw, almost knocking him out cold. This had him backing out the door, learning his place.

"And don't even think about coming back here because next time you'll have to be dragged out," The tone of Bucky's voice was firm and aggressive but only until John walked out of the building before he joined Steve in comforting you.

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

It had been three hours since John tried to pry himself into your life again. You were still trembling even though you were in the arms of the two people you trusted most. The idea that John could just show up again out of nowhere terrified you more than anything. You were well protected by Steve and Bucky but just having John in the same room, no, same building as you brought on heart shattering fear and anxiety.

You had all migrated to your room, the three of you barely fitting on your queen size mattress. It really showed off how much bigger they were compared to other guys, especially compared to you. Both of them were easily at least a foot taller than you. Their biceps easily closer to the size of one of your thighs than your arms.

Around you, they were gentle giants. That was until they needed to protect you. And they would, with their whole being. They just wanted to show you how much they valued you, how much you lit up their lives. They wanted you to know that it wasn't one sided. The two of them were pampering you in kisses and praise, gentle caresses, doing everything they could to make you feel safe and loved.

Eventually your breathing and heart rate had calmed, turning on your back so you could look at the two men. Their overwhelming appreciation towards you made you want to show your appreciation for them but you were mustering up the courage. You hadn't been intimate with anyone, let alone with yourself since before you moved in. Any experience with John had been too rough, basically forced from you but you didn't know any better.

This one moment with Bucky and Steve, everything felt different. They asked if they could play with your hair, caress your face in their hands, or even to soothingly rub your back. Every touch required you to tell them yes. If it made you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, they would stop and move back to something else you had already agreed to, which only made your core dampen more than it already was.

Fighting the nerves, you kissed them both with nothing but love and passion, hinting for something more. It took them a minute to take the hint but when they did, their actions only got softer.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Steve whispered. His and Bucky's eyes had darkened, pupils blown out. This only made you want them more.

You nodded at them both even though you knew they wanted a verbal answer. You gulp before mustering up a soft, "Yes, I want this. Want you. Both of you."

Slowly, you sat up, starting to tug at the hem of your oversized shirt before you felt one metal and one flesh hand move your hands away, removing your shirt for you.

"This is about you, peach. Don't worry about us. We want you to feel good." Bucky whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine but in the best way possible.

Steve was behind you, rubbing circles into your back as Bucky trailed kissed down your jaw and neck. You leaned back against Steve's chest as Bucky's kisses went lower to your chest. "Can we take this off?" Looping his flesh fingers under the strap of your bra.

"Please…" You breathed out your answer, feeling Steve's hand loop under you to unclasp the article of clothing. You gasped at the cold sensation of Bucky's metal hand brushing over your hot skin and he chuckled softly. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that? Isn't she, Steve?" You leaned back once more only to gasp again at the light flick that Bucky gave to your nipple. "Absolutely gorgeous." Steve hummed his answer, you could feel his length growing underneath you.

The moment you felt Bucky's mouth over your chest left your mouth agape, your back arching at his touch. His mouth didn't linger long as it started moving lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, kissing over your biker shorts but not over where you wanted him the most.

Out of instinct, you reach down to pull off your remaining clothing but Bucky just shakes his head and replaces your hands with his. This time it's him gasping at how absolutely dripping you are. "Oh you poor baby, probably haven't had someone focused on your pleasure in so long."

Steve's hands moved up to tease your chest, massaging and caressing everything he could reach before pulling his shirt off with you still on top of him. Bucky did the same before placing your thighs over his shoulders, looking for any sign of you being uncomfortable but only saw your eyes shut in pleasure.

Dipping his head down, he licked a broad stripe up your dripping cunt, not even giving you time to be shocked as he got to work. Your sounds were only making him work harder as you took his hands in yours at your side.

John only went down on you once and that was after begging him because it was 'only fair' seeing as you had always done it for him. Steve and Bucky didn't even ask, didn't want you to because unlike John, they cared more about your pleasure than their own.

"Such a good girl," Steve mumbled in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. This only fueled your needs.

"More, Bucky. Please…" You had let go of one of his metal hand only to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him even further into your core. He was groaning against you at your neediness, which sent vibrations throughout your entire body.

You were about to beg again but before the words could even come out, you felt two cold fingers at your entrance before they slowly slid in and bumping into your g-spot, which wasn't something you had ever experienced before.

"B-Bucky… oh my god! What was that?" You were a blubbering mess at this new found sensation.

Looking up at you and only moving his mouth away to say, "You can't tell me no one has ever?-" His fingers were curling up at an agonizing pace, your hips bucking on his hand was the only response he needed before he started moving at a faster pace. You were almost at your peak, legs trembling, as he put his mouth back on you and sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You had never felt this much pleasure before in your life. Only a few more strokes of his hand left and you felt like you had exploded, seeing stars. The sounds you were making and your grip on Bucky's hair had him groaning against you, only heightening your peak and making it more intense. Bucky wasn't done yet though, he was going to drag out your high until you couldn't take anymore, Steve nearly forgotten behind you.

Any words you tried to make were incoherent as Bucky finally slowed down and kissed back up your body. "Such a good girl for us, aren't you, baby?" Chuckling at how you could only nod as a response. The two men would have been happy with at that but you were already sitting up and turning around to give Steve attention, which took them both by surprise.

You were a shy person in general let alone during a situation like this but your orgasm only gave you more confidence. Bucky laid down as you crawled up and straddled Steve. As much as he would love to watch you ride him, you were spent. You looked it to. With a swift motion, you were back on your back, legs spread again as Steve pulled down his pants and his briefs, Bucky following behind shortly.

You knew both of them were packing at the one too many times you had walked in on one of them getting out of the shower so you weren't that surprised to see how big they were in the moment. "I would love to taste you but I can't wait any longer, needa be inside you. Is that alright?" Steve accepted your whimper of a yes and draped his body over yours, giving you a tender kiss before reaching down and running a finger in between your folds and lining himself up to your entrance.

He didn't even need to look up at you for approval, you were already snaking your legs around his hips. "Eager girl, aren't you?" Steve smirked before pressing into you slowly, earning a soft moan from you before rocking his hips slowly as you got used to his size before working up to a faster pace. Both of you moaning and groaning as you raked your nails down his back.

"Fuck, so tight. Don't know how long 'm gonna last." You were already squeezing around, trying to milk him for everything he had.

"F-faster… harder…" You begged and he happily obliged. You didn't care if he didn't last much longer, you knew Bucky wanted a turn and you wanted to give them both a chance at you. "Oh my god, Steve. I'm gonna cum… please." Your begging only made Steve's release come sooner, only letting go when you had reached your peak as well, pulling at his hair as he groaned into your neck before his thrusts slowed to a halt.

You were still catching your breath before the two men swapped places. "Think you can handle one more, peach?" Bucky hovered over, looking for any sign of you wanting to stop. "I sure hope so." You chuckled out of breath still before gasping as Bucky flipped you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, his hands resting at your hips.

"That's a good girl," lining himself up, Bucky groaned at the wetness that was Steve's release mixed with yours as he pushed in. Steve was longer but Bucky was noticeably thicker as he pushed into you. "You weren't kidding, Steve. So. Fucking. Tight." Bucky growled out. Steve reached over to moved your hair out of your face before Bucky started thrusting into you.

"If it's too much, just say and we'll stop and take care of you." Steve reassured you before nodding to Bucky, encouraging him to pick up the pace.

And he did, his thrusts were relentless but were all for your pleasure. Neither of you would last very long but he wanted this one to be the best orgasm of the night. "Steve," Bucky managed, nodding his head to Steve, motioning for him to touch you. The whine you let out when Steve scooted down to rub feverish circles around your clit which was only bringing your third incredibly intense orgasm of the night only moments away.

"Oh god… of fuck fuck FUCK…" amongst another string of curses cam out of both you and Bucky's mouth as you came, covering Bucky's thighs, Steve's hand, and your comforter. It only took that sight and a couple more thrusts as Bucky was filling you to the brim. "Fuck…." He groaned, "Can't say I've ever had that happen before."

You drop to lay flat on your stomach on the bed, clearly oblivious to you squirting all over the two men and your blanket, only humming in response. "Did you know that you could do that, baby? Did you know you could squirt?" Your eyes widened at Steve as he asked, he took that answer as an obvious 'no' and chuckled softly.

You wished you could move but you were so fucked out that your limbs were limp. Steve got up and grabbed a new t-shirt and underwear for you to put on as Bucky eased out of you, causing another whine from you at the sensation. Steve left the room temporarily just to get a warm washcloth and a different blanket for the three of you as the other one was deemed in need of a wash.

The two cleaned and dressed you before laying out the new blanket over you. Bucky laid down first, pulling you to lay on his chest before Steve crawled behind you, spooning you. You were barely conscious but you heard the small I love you's and praises from them about how good you did. You breathed out a small 'love you too' before falling asleep.

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wheelsup · 3 years

Text

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date.

Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body.

It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup.

You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours.

You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

“Yes.”

One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose.

_____

Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

“You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible.

Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

“I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

“And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.”

Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had.

_____

After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer.

The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops.

Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this.

It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones.

You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him.

He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known.

Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth.

You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.

But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #my fic #criminal minds self insert

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #brought to you by this enby and their criminal hands #this is shorter than most of my chapters but its also a bonus #so take what you can get my dudes #pls enjoy

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 3 years

Note

“You will learn to love me.” - With Heisenberg and restorator darling, please? Perhaps when this is her first experience?

Heisenberg/F!Darling: "You'll learn to love me."

TW: Dubcon, loss of virginity, forced marriage

Weddings were usually a joyous affair. Gorgeous dresses, dancing and enjoying your loved ones' company, celebrating the life you wanted to share with your one-and-only... ____'s wedding was not at all like what she or her family might have hoped it would be. For one thing, none of them even knew where she was; she'd spent the last few months trapped by the terrifying man who'd kidnapped her from the Romanian wilderness, a man named Heisenberg who had a gift with metal that bordered on supernatural. As a restorator she would've been fascinated if she wasn't terrified of what he could do with that power of his, especially when his "work" littered his factory with corpses and their scattered body parts. The only other company she had were the wolflike monsters and patchwork creations that followed Heisenberg's orders.

He'd actually bothered to get a wedding dress for her, an admittedly beautiful traditional gown made by the women in the village. The delicate lace along the sleeves and the vibrant embroidered flowers and patterns on the vest looked so out of place in the dusty and rusted-out factory. The villagers were eager to celebrate their Lord's marriage and hadn't stopped sending flowers, pastries, clothing, and handmade talismans for long-life/love/fertility to the outskirts of Heisenberg's property until he'd stationed some of the Lycans to scare off the throngs of annoying worshippers and well-wishers. ____ didn't know if it was better or worse that Heisenberg and her would be the only ones at the wedding; she was terrified of being alone with him, but the way the villagers stared at her and threw themselves to the ground while reverently calling her "Lady Heiseberg" left her uncomfortable to say the least.

____ stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried her best to prepare herself for what was to come. I can still try to escape, but...being his wife just makes it feel more hopeless. She bit the inside of her cheek and glared at the reflection of her dress through her veil. I'll have to be tied to him, even if I'm being forced to say those fucking vows to always stay with him until "death to us part."

She didn't hate him, at least not as much as she did when he'd first taken her. She definitely feared him, but that was just common sense when your captor has an army of corpse-machines, werewolves, and can control electricity and metal with his mind. He'd been more accommodating than he'd expected for a kidnapper. He had been sexually forceful sometimes whenever he groped her or turned her head to kiss her, or lightly rutted against her body when the two of them slept in the same bed. But he'd also given her a room to herself, and insisted on not forcing himself on her completely until he'd made her his wife--another reason she was dreading this day. He'd appreciated her restoration skills and the two of them had actually shared some enjoyable conversations while spending time in his workshop. And he was fiercely protective of her when it came to his equally monstrous siblings and mother. Part of it seemed to be selfishness, not wanting them to go after HIS woman, but he'd consoled her after that wretched little doll of Lady Beneviento's had insisted on "playing" with her by chasing her and tearing at the flesh and skin of her legs. His voice had been soft when he'd promised to not let anyone hurt her, and having him hold her was comforting.

The sound of her bedroom door opening snapped ____ out of her thoughts, and she saw Heisenberg walk into the room. He wasn't wearing his usual trenchcoat, and instead had on an outfit that ____ had never seen him in before: a black vest with similar embroidery to her own outfit, along with a white blouse underneath with fur-trimmed black sleeves. His pants were also black, save for the bit of dust around the hem from walking around the factory. His shoes were made from dark leather and had the same fur trim as his shirtsleeves and the inside of ____'s vest. His signature sunglasses were absent, and his hair was freshly washed and combed.

Heisenberg stared at ____ for a moment, looking her up and down as she stood in her wedding clothes. He had seen what they'd looked like folded up and hanging in her closet, but it was nothing compared to her wearing them. He wasn't used to seeing something so delicate and beautiful, especially in his factory. "Everything's ready," he said. He put one arm around ____'s waist and kept a gentle yet firm grip around her. "Since Miranda gave us her 'blessing' beforehand, we don't need to have her here to watch and attend in all her glory," he quipped. "God knows that bitch would ruin this whole thing just by being here."

____ let Heisenberg lead her to his own room, where a small leather box lay on his bedside table. He used his powers to shut and lock the door behind ____ while he went to grab the box. "I don't have much from my real family," Heisenberg said, carefully opening the lid. The inside was lined with cloth, and inside was a pair of exquisite wedding bands. There were some signs of age in the metal, but the small opalescent jewel nestled in the center of the bridal ring shone as if it had been polished just yesterday. The other ring was less flashy, with the only flair being am etched ridge in the shape of a mountain on the top, inlaid with gold. "This ring's one of the only things I've got from them." He took the groom's ring and slipped it on his own finger. "I want to say it was one of my great uncles who made it? One of them was a jeweler, I think." He shrugged and held his hand out to admire how it looked. "My mom slipped them into my things after Miranda's people had come to take me and my cousins away. I think she knew it'd be the last time she saw all of us together."

____ noticed the strange tone in Heisenberg's voice as he recalled his last memory with his family. She'd never heard him reminisce about them before; with how far-off and melancholy he sounded, she knew why it wasn't something he discussed that often. Just as she was about to try to say something to try and comfort him, he took the bride's ring with one hand and slipped the box into his pocket. He took ____'s hand and squeezed it. "There's no set of vows we have to take," he explained with a half-smile. "One of the perks of being royalty in this shit hole is anything you do is fine, no matter how informally you do it. Not like the villagers are gonna complain about us not following all the traditions, so it saves a lot of time. But..." Heisenberg stared intensely at her as he slipped the ring onto her trembling finger. "One day, you'll learn to love me. I promise that."

____'s hand felt as if it were chained to a sinking weight, pulling her through the ground and crushing her. There was no way out. She'd be "married" to this man who'd ruined her life, isolated from the rest of the world and completely at his mercy. Her heart leaped into her throat and she suddenly felt a rush of dizziness; she stumbled forward and Heisenberg caught her, helping her back upright and holding her in his arms. He brushed her clothed hip with his thumb and then lifted her veil to fully reveal her face. Before ____ knew it, Heisenberg's lips were against hers as he tilted her head back slightly to deepen the kiss.

Heisenberg ran his fingers through her hair as he lowered her onto his bed. ____'s heart raced and panic ran up and down her spine as she lay on the bed. He was taking off his shoes, unbuttoning his vest...reaching down to take off her veil. "K-Karl," she stammered, "I'm not...I've--"

"Never done this before?" He rested one hand on her vest before unbuttoning the golden clasps and sliding it off of her shoulders while she just tried her best to stay still. "I figured as much." Heisenberg smirked and moved one hand underneath the skirt of her dress, creeping up her thighs and stopping just inches from her panties. "You always get that funny little look on your face whenever I touch you for a bit in bed, almost like you're feeling a certain way for the first time. Wouldn't surprise me if you've never even touched yourself."

Goosebumps rose on ____'s legs as Heisenberg ghosted his fingers over her pubic mound, and she looked away as she rubbed her thighs together. Was she really THAT obvious about it? "I know I can't stop you," she said quietly. She bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes as she tried her hardest to not envision what ____ was about to do to her. Maybe he'd start to tire of her once he finally fucked her and got what he really wanted, and he'd let her go. Would she get blood on the sheets and her dress when he entered her? Would he even care? She could already feel his cock prodding her through his pants; it was a strange, foreign presence that filled her with dread. She knew that some men had penises so large that they could fill someone up all the way to their cervix...just how painful was this going to be once he took all of his clothes off? How harsh would he be now that he didn't feel the need to be so accommodating and kind once he finally claimed her?

____ sniffled and looked up at Heisenberg pitifully. "Please be gentle," she begged. "I don't want...I know it can hurt a lot during your first time, so just..."

Heisenberg cocked his head slightly and rested his fingers on the flesh of her right thigh. "It can hurt if you don't do it right," he replied, sounding a little confused. "What, you think I'm just gonna whip my cock out, go in dry, and finish after a few pumps?"

____ looked up at him, not sure of what to say. "You want to f-fuck me, don't you?" She sounded more confused than accusatory. "That's why you kidnapped me. That's why you've tried to be nice to me and make me trust you." Her shoulders drooped slightly and she clenched her jaw. "I just figured that you wouldn't care that much about...about making me feel good, at least not as much as yourself."

Heisenberg's brows furrowed, but only for a moment before leaning down to kiss her again. ____'s eyes widened at just how gentle this kiss was compared to the one he'd given her after slipping his ring on her finger. "I didn't kidnap you just to be a cocksleeve," he replied with a slightly disappointed frown. He caressed the inside of her thigh and trailed his lips down to her collarbone. "If I wanted that, I would've just raped you the first night you were here." ____ moaned softly as he moved one hand underneath her blouse to massage her breast, and a sudden rush of heat pooled between her legs as he used his other hand to play with an extra-sensitive bundle of nerves through her underwear.

"Kidnapping you doesn't really help my case," he said begrudgingly, "But I do love you, you know. As much as I can love anyone after the shit I've been through." He toyed with her nipple and smiled when he felt her hips rock a bit as he circled around her clit through her panties. "You're not my whore, you're my wife. So tell me what you want, and how you want it. And I'll give it to you."

____'s entire body felt so warm underneath her wedding dress. The places he was touching her felt so tingly, just like how they did whenever he groped her before tonight. Somehow though, this was different. Her fear wasn't as prevalent and the heat bubbling up underneath her skin wasn't from shame. This felt gentler. This felt good. So, so good. He wasn't lying to her about doing whatever SHE wanted; for once, she felt like she had a semblance of control while in bed with him--previously her kidnapper, but now her husband.

____'s voice was breathier than she expected whenever she spoke again. "C-could...could you put your mouth on me?" She rested one shaky hand by her chest on top of his own. "On my breasts, where your hand is right now. I want to f-feel more of...of this." She was struggling to articulate just what she was feeling and what she wanted, but Heisenberg just grinned as if he'd heard her loud and clear. When he lifted her thin white blouse over her head, leaving her in just her skirt, panties, and stockings, he immediately latched onto her right breast while he continued to play with her left nipple. ____ gasped and bucked her hips as he swirled his tongue around the pebble of flesh; his stubble grazed her soft skin, and the texture made her shiver.

Heisenberg finally moved his lips back with a small pop and switched to her other breast while he circled even faster around her clitoris and occasionally stroked the damp spot around her cunt's lips. "Can you feel how wet you are down here?" He chuckled and hooked one finger around the waistband of her panties before pulling them off of her completely. "I definitely won't hurt you if you're dripping like this from just my fingers." He slowly inserted his middle finger inside of her tight walls and eagerly looked at her face as she moaned and moved her hips to take even more of his hand. "Does it hurt, honey?"

"Ah, n-no..." ____ had never felt so hot and lightheaded and FULL. There was a stretch, but it wasn't painful; if anything, she wanted to feel more and more of it. "It feels good, so good..." Heisenberg curled his finger inside of her and laughed again at how his wife cried out in pleasure, practically shoving her pelvis forward to fuck herself on his hand while her pussy clenched around him. "More, more, please! That felt even better, do it again--o-or, or put another finger inside, or your whole hand or your cock or--"

Heisenberg shushed her and slightly increased his pace as he slipped another finger inside of her. "Easy, tiger," he teased with a smile. "I'm not using my cock until you cum at LEAST once on my hand. I haven't even gotten to taste you yet!"

"But...don't you want to feel good t-too?"

Heisenberg felt his hard-on stabbing through his clothes as he rutted his hips against the mattress. He'd get some relief soon, but for now he wanted to show her just what she really meant to him. He could fill her up with his cum and fuck her silly later--right now, he wanted to make sure his perfect little wife enjoyed every single second of her wedding night the way she deserved.

This WAS a celebration of their love, after all.

#.re8 #.heisenberg #yandere re8 #yandere heisenberg #virginity kink #tw: dubcon #.myshit #.queue #fem darling

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