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#All The Roofs Of Uncertainty
briarhips · 2 years
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It just feels unfair for a prof to give me an incomplete w/o warning or communication when I didn’t request it and then ignore my submissions and emails, and never give me a final-final, no amends to be made beyond this point deadline :)
#mine#feeling sick again. personal summer plague#i don’t know if there is a point or not in continuing to fix my blunders or if I have to resign myself to the humiliation of retaking the#class next next sem w (guaranteed!) the same horribly unhelpful prof#the way it has taken me all summer and is still in progress is so humiliating and stupid too I’ve been paralyzed for so long. not even the#most bare min expectations were laid out on top of this uncommonly and unfairly high page count#and if I’d not been so thru the roof constantly stressed I absolutely WOULD have focused on finding an internship that’s what I WANT to do.#but the uncertainty of this class made me too anxious to function. still am#not to be a whiny bitch. i mean that’s what I come here to do but still. not to be whiny but I feel cheated and shortchanged and small and I#don’t think it’s earned…. w/o fail the classes I most look forward to leave me feeling like I’ve been slapped in the face#only 1 person has heard me out and helped me and agreed that this was all v shitty for me for no good reason. like only 1 whxjwjsjs everyone#else has brushed me off and left me cold and I hate how I let it affect me. knowing I was not helped should be enough for me#but I want more validation. i have not torn myself apart repeatedly to be treated the same way (like I’m stupid on purpose and deserving of#failure) again and again up until my almost very last year of education. no amount of effort is enough it feels like.#and by tear myself apart I mean be v v strict w myself abt school for so long until I just couldn’t maintain it anymore to save my life#I don’t know. i share this and no one even blinks. feels like I don’t exist#EXCEPT as an incomplete grade and disappointing daughter lol
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gurorori · 9 months
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okay very srs vent / trauma dump ahead i seriously advise No1 reads this..
tw for the same described in last rb i am sorry
i apologise for usin this acc for ventin a lot heh i prommy i try 2 keep it silly.. but its more convenient here than on instagram. 🙏
#i know it is an extremely heavy topic but really when i think ab it. it also stays so unspoken abt cuz of this culture of not talkin ab it#its kinda like a he who shall not b named thing#n i of course feel an insane amnt of guilt n shame even tryin 2 bring it up#jts even more terrifyin for someone with did. i didn always know we had this baggage#but certain memories wer shared with me by one of our trauma holders in a flashback & it. it like everythin suddenly made sense#its like. puzzle pieces comin together like Oh so this why we have this. this is why we have survival instincts on top of survival instincts#this is why we r deadly scared of everyone in this household. this is why im so anxious with the. all too feasible idea of ofhers besides#Him bein attracted to us too#idk memories r a blur but suddenly there is a reason dat i realise Why we wer growin up with primal fear n grief instilled when#it comes to family & .. closeness#sure i have my own notions abt it as well havin the exomemories thst i do but. they also mske so much more sense once i learned our#lived experiences#we still live under the same roof with him#its been.. 16-ish years. it started arnd when we wer 4-5 purely judgin off our trauma holders age. shes a little girl. surprisingly quiet#im glad she is warmin up to people (friends & partner) nowadays altho she hasn been arnd for months now..#i worry but i think her bein away for now is for da best#but yeah. i feel awful jus knowin shes the one who took most of dat & the one still carryin the memories#i remember jus. feelin a deep void for weeks after i got the flashback. its an indescribable feelin my chest honesly hurts as im typin this#but i am glad 2 b sharin this burden as well..#its weird cuz it started n then ended n its been years of weird uncertainty where its not like we r actively bein abused (by him) but#there wer Moments#gawd jus last year. i remember wkain up2 him on top of me#n iys this weird kind of thing where ya feel yr body violently shake n jolt awake like a literal fight or flight respojse wakin ya up#the only reason he left is cuz i screamedwso loud i woke others up#then later he acted like he was drunk n apologised#i.. did nawt forget#i also will never forget the. actual childhood memories but god they ffeel entirely too disgustin to even put in text#they feel like they r fiction made to specifically awaken most fierce disgust ya can feel#but they r not. how??#i reached max tags...
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ohproserpine · 2 months
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vi. deer dolly
see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)
˚୨୧₊♱
You never really liked cars.
The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.
It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.
As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.
Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.
Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.
Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.
Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.
After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.
"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"
You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.
"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"
He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.
Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.
"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."
His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.
"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."
With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.
Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.
Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.
Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.
Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.
Oh, how you wished you could do the same.
Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.
Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.
Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.
"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.
Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.
"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."
"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.
You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.
"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.
"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."
With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.
As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.
Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.
With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.
"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.
"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.
But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.
"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.
To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.
The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.
"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?
"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."
"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."
"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.
With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.
Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.
"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."
You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.
"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"
Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.
"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."
With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.
"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.
With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.
Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.
Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.
As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.
Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.
The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.
He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.
Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?
With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.
As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.
˚୨୧₊♱
Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.
Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"
You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.
"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.
With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.
Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.
As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.
Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.
"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.
Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.
Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.
Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.
"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."
You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.
"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"
You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.
"Words, cher. Use your words."
"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.
Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.
Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.
Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.
Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.
Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.
In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.
"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."
With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.
Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.
All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.
More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.
Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.
All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.
With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.
And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.
You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.
With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.
Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.
Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.
As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.
Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.
There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.
Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.
The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.
You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.
You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.
What have you done?
˚୨୧₊♱
"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!
That's right, folks, he's dead!
Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"
You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.
Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.
"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."
The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.
Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.
As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.
The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.
Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.
You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.
Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.
The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.
˚୨୧₊♱
There was screaming.
Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.
You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.
Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.
Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.
Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.
The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.
Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.
Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.
Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.
Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.
Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.
As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.
"Well, look who it is."
The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.
"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.
"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"
"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"
"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"
"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"
"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.
Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~
"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"
You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong
"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"
"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.
We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when
"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.
Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."
Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.
Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.
"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"
"Dolly'll never go away again~"
You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.
"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"
"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.
"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.
"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.
"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.
"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.
Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."
"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."
"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."
The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"
Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.
"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"
"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.
Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"
"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."
With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.
'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'
"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.
With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.
"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"
You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.
"You shot him?"
"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"
At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.
"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"
"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.
After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.
"I know something you don't know~" she sings.
"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.
"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."
Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"
"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.
"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."
You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.
"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."
You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"
Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."
"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.
Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.
"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.
A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.
"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."
Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."
With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.
"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"
"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."
With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"
You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.
"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.
Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"
"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.
Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.
Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."
"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.
"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"
Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.
"It's a deal."
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most likely have to move house Again this year and i’m just. so tired of it all.
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c0kitty · 2 months
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NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader
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“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”
(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.
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you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.
ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side. 
the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —
ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women. 
“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.
“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.” 
also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.
you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”
“i need to say something,” 
you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?” 
you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'. 
you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.
ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.
“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.
“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.
your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.
“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.
“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.
silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”
ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”
“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”
“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.
you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way. 
“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—” 
ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours.  “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.
a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.
ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.
at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.
ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest. 
you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–” 
“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.
she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.
“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”
you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”
ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”
a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.
“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.
“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.” 
ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”  
in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.
“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.
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ancientcharm · 21 days
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Inside Pantheon, Rome, Italy. It is one of the best preserved ancient Roman buildings in the world.
Photography by Luigi Di Criscio (@luigidicriscio)
In Latin Pantheum (from Greek Πάνθειον Pantheion) means "common to all the gods." It was built from an earlier temple commissioned by Marcus Agrippa during the reign of Augustus (27 BC – 14 AD). After a fire, the current building was commissioned by Emperor Hadrian (117-138).
Agrippa finished the construction of the building called the Pantheon. It has this name, perhaps because it received among the images which decorated it the statues of many gods, including Mars and Venus; but my own opinion of the name is that, because of its vaulted roof, it resembles the heavens.  Cassius Dio, History of Rome 53.27.2
Cassius Dio's uncertainty about the name suggests that "Pantheon" was a nickname, not the formal name of the building.
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The portico of the Pantheon at night.
The inscription M·AGRIPPA·L·F·COS·TERTIVM·FECIT means: "Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, made [this building] when consul for the third time."
Photography by Jfabrix101 / Wikimedia Commons.
Beautiful
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samkerrworshipper · 6 months
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two’s a company, three’s a crowd | alexia putellas x reader x lucy bronze
warnings: heavy smut, cunnilingus, fingering, sex toys, 18+ minors DNI
6000 words that y’all have been begging for and full disclaimer i have written this at 4am on a red bull high so sorry if it isn’t completely coherent xoxo
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“Remember what I promised you?”
I was kneeling on the floor beside our bed, a blindfold over my face.
“I’d get a reward if I was a good girl, ma’am.”
I kept my head bowed, facing what I assumed was our floor boards, but I couldn’t tell you for sure because I couldn’t see.
“Do you think you were a good girl?”
I gulped soundly, it could be a trick question, an attempt to catch me out, or prove me wrong. Or it could be a legitimate question, it was a 50/50 chance.
“I tried my hardest ma’am, I think I was good.”
My words held some uncertainty, but not enough for it to be detected, a perfect balance of confidence and self consciousness.
“I think so too, enough that I think you deserve your reward.”
I perked up a little bit at the words, my knees were starting to get sore from the floorboards so anything to get me up off them would be better than this.
“If you think so, ma’am.”
I felt a hand tugging at my scalp, a change from the complete nothingness I’d felt for a while now, it had me jolting in my position, slightly shocked by the contact.
My head was tugged backwards, no longer facing what I assumed was the floor. Tilting it back as far as I could go so I was now assumedly looking at the roof.
“I think so, I think you’ll need to see to properly have this reward though.”
My curiosity was growing by the minute, I was silently becoming more desperate by the second to discover what exactly she was referencing.
I blinked furiously as the silk blindfold was tugged down, so it was pooling around my neck. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden light, but once they did I could make out Alexia, who was standing directly above me, her eyes and eyebrows quirked just a little bit, in that cheeky way she did when she was up to something.
“Give our guest a proper welcome.”
My eyes snapped away from Alexia’s, searching around the room before spotting the intruder that Alexia had been referencing, sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room.
“L-Lucy?”
The lights in our room were dimmed but I was fairly certain that it was her, Alexia’s mind never ceased to amaze me. I suddenly felt very self conscious, my hands going to whatever parts of my naked body that they could cover. They weren’t there for long though, Alexia’s hands slapping at them very quickly.
“No being shy, if tonight goes how I planned Lucia will be seeing far more of you.”
My spine shuddered, so this really was what I had been thinking.
“Do you want that? Do you want to be a good girl for Lucia and I?”
I nodded frantically at Alexia, leaving absolutely zero room for doubt in my actions.
Alexia smirked down at me, she knew me so well, knew exactly how to turn me into putty in her hands. We’d talked about this, casually, her asking me over breakfast one morning if the situation arose I’d be comfortable with bringing someone else in. Initially I’d choked on my tea, and then I’d told her I was very open to the idea, that if it was what she wanted I would definitely be down for it, I just hadn’t expected so soon, or with Lucy. If I was being honest I’d assumed if anyone would ever join Alexia it would be Mapi, just because of the close relationship we had and the fact that I knew her and Ingrid weren’t opposed to sharing.
“I’ll be good for you.”
Alexia smiled at me and nodded.
“I know you will baby. Why don’t you show Lucy how good you can be for her? Show her just how perfect you are, Musetrale lo buena que puedes ser para mi?”
I nodded at Ale, I found it funny that of all the people she would bring she chose Lucy. The girl was lovely, an absolute golden retriever of a human being who was always putting smiles on our faces at training. The underlying feeling that I had though was that Ale had a reason, Lucy was obsessed with proving that she respected Ale and I was fairly sure she’d bend over backwards if Alexia asked. She in her own right though was a dominant person, she wasn’t a person to give up control and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she would give it up easily, even to Alexia.
“Lucia, get on the edge of the bed and take your trousers off, you are far too dressed for this occasion.”
Lucy nodded obediently, pulling her trousers off as she stumbled towards the edge of the bed. Fumbling her trousers off and slinging them onto the seat she had previously occupied, leaving her in a plain pair of black boxer shorts. She seated herself on the edge of the bed as Alexia had requested, waiting restlessly on the edge, clearly waiting for something to happen.
“Come on then, don’t leave our guest waiting.”
I nodded at Alexia, extending my hands out in front of me and crawling over towards Lucy, revelling in the way her eyes crawled up and down my body as I moved towards her. There was something so sensual about someone looking you up and down, something so perfect about having your body be appreciated and wanted, Lucy was looking at me like I was a fucking dessert for her to eat and I loved absolutely every single second of it. The way she watched my tits hanging down from my body frame as the moved back and forth as I crawled towards her, and the sight of her eyes travelling down to my ass was purely magical.
When I did make my way to Lucy I kneeled directly in front of her, letting her part her legs on either side of me, leaving my face directly in front of her sex.
“Can I eat her out please, ma’am?”
I could hear Alexia walking around behind us, but I knew better than to avert my attention from Lucy, keeping my hooded eyes focused on hers.
“Ask Lucia baby, she’s your treat for tonight.”
Alexia was the only person who got away with calling Lucy that, the only person Lucy respected enough to let it slide, she used it to her advantage as much as possible. I knew she was using it in this forum to get one message across, that even if she was hanging over the reigns to Lucy, she had a form of control, a form of power that Lucy didn’t and she was conveying that with her words.
“Can I eat you out please, Luce?”
Lucy smirked at my question, I could feel the nerves thrumming through her body. She was so confident but you could tell that she just wasn’t feeling that in this environment, her foot tapping ever so slightly against the floorboards.
“I would love nothing more, if La Reina is okay with it.”
Lucy’s eyes rose anxiously to Alexia, she was very clearly trying to figure out how this situation worked, I assumed Alexia would have given her a small debrief before this but I didn’t know for sure, as far as I knew Alexia could have texted Lucy half an hour ago and told her to come over. Lucy was cautious of Alexia, the use of her full first name putting her on her toes, just like I knew Alexia had intended to do.
The last few hours had been a complete blur to me, we’d played this afternoon, an earlier game at 1pm. After that I’d kind of dropped into my headspace, Alexia had sensed it. Once we’d gotten home she’d fed me and then with my consent she’d blindfolded me and kneeled me down on the floor for a while, letting me think properly for the first time in a few weeks. She knew my body better than I did, could sense when I needed her the most, today was one of those days and nothing felt better than her understanding that need.
“Go ahead cariño, show Lucia how good you can be.”
Her words were enough permission for me, I scooted myself further across the floorboards, so my face was practically pressed against Lucy’s boxers. I reached my hands up, so they were secured on the waist band, she lifted her ass up from the bed, giving me room to pull them down and off of her. The first thing I was faced with when I looked back up was Lucy’s fucking beautiful cunt, staring right at me. As Lucy’s thighs fell over my shoulders I was put millimetres away from Lucy’s glistening pussy. Lucy ever so respectfully inched her way down to my face, and as soon as I snapped myself out of my almost sex induced haze I was diving in.
The hunger that overcame me was immense. I kissed my way up and down Lucy’s slit, as much as I wanted to dive in I also wanted to not be greedy or rushed about it. I slowly slid my tongue up and down, parting her folds in the process and exploring her with so much care. I toyed around with Lucy’s entrance and sensitive nub, taking my time in carefully swirling my tongue around the ever so sensitive areas and relishing in the moans that were falling freely from her lips. Lucy slowly started to become more comfortable in the situation and started very gently to hump my face. When I decided she was being too gentle my hands came up to her thighs, digging into the skin and forcing her down further on my face, allowing me to apply more pressure to her.
I ate her out with passion, the way that Ale had taught me. I lapped at Lucy’s waiting cunt, she was practically throbbing against me and I revelled in the feeling of having her juices drip down my face and down onto my bare neck and the blindfold that was now a forgotten article, hanging loosely around my neck. She was fucking delicious and I took advantage off it, slurping up her juices and swallowing it all down. I continued my exploring, experimenting with different pressures and speeds, slowly discovering what forced the sinfully spectacular groans to fall from Lucy’s mouth. I very quickly discovered that her clit was extremely sensitive, any slight touch to it resulting in a set of specific expletives leaving her lips. I honed in on that, working tirelessly at swirling my tongue around her clit and when her thighs started to clench I started to nibble on it slightly, the small bursts of pressure doing wonders for her.
“Fuck, mm, fuck, such a good girl y/n, gonna make me cum.”
I smirked into Lucy’s clit when the grunts left her mouth, they were hardly words though, muffled by Lucy’s own moans and Alexia’s voice in the background, which I couldn’t fully understand in my sex driven haze.
I worked hard at Lucy’s clit, sucking on it and then dipping down to eat her out every once in a while. I pushed my tongue into her pussy and feeling her sex clench against my tongue as she got closer. I began to alternate, sucking hard on Lucy’s clit and then going down further, licking softly at her pussy. It was the perfect combination of soft and hard and it had Lucy’s thighs shaking on top of my shoulders.
“Fuck, so good y/n/n, so fucking good, I’m going to cum, going to cum.”
As soon as the words left her mouth I sucked down hard on her clit, digging my lips and teeth in.
“Cum, Lucia, cum all over our sluts face.”
Ale’s voice was strong, directly spoken in my ear and it was probably enough to make me cum there on the spot, but I didn’t, too focused on Lucy’s body to care about my own. I moaned against her pussy as I felt her clench and come undone. Her thighs shook like a tree in the wind as the orgasm wracked her body. I continued my licks, softening them and flattening my tongue against her slit, licking up every single drip that was released from her pussy as she came down from her high. It was euphoric, feeling Lucy’s salty and sweet liquid gold on my tongue was a different form of special that I couldn’t even explain.
Eventually, once Lucy’s legs had stopped shaking she lifted herself off of me, revealing my face to her, which was covered in her juices. It was then that I spotted Alexia standing over me, her lips kiss swollen and Lucy’s neck adorned with a few developing love bites that I could only assume were accredited to Alexia. She smirked down at me before leaning down to kiss me, licking at the taste of Lucy and getting as it off of my face as she could.
“Such a good girl for Lucia, I think it’s about time we give you some attention, hm?”
I nodded frantically at Alexia, getting Lucy off had a drug like effect on me and I was now in a drugged up sex haze.
“Please.”
Alexia smirked at my pleading and nodded at me.
“I think Lucia is a little bit overdressed for the occasion, how about you help her out?”
I nodded at Alexia, her word was gospel to me and if she wanted me to do something I would do it. She reached her hands out to me and I took them, my legs had gone practically numb from kneeling for so long so her support was well appreciated. My legs wobbled for a few seconds whilst I regained the sensation in my legs. Once the sensation was regained I turned to Lucy, who still seemed to be coming back from her mind shattering orgasm.
I closed the distance between us, seating myself down on the edge of the bed beside her and putting my hands to work immediately. I’d bared her bottom half so I busied myself with unbuttoning her blouse, taking my time with each individual button. The top buttons were already done, courtesy to Alexia who had left a litter of love bites along Lucy’s collar line that were going to be a pain to hide tomorrow for training. It made me smirk slightly.
Lucy, very clearly having regained her energy, got bored waiting for me to unbutton her blouse, and busied herself with leaving some matching marks along my own collarbone. I let her go, I wasn’t training tomorrow anyways, I’d been told to take the day off because of a minor head collision that I’d had during the game, it was pure precaution but I was grateful to have a lie in regardless, fairly happy to miss out on the morning recovery and gym session when I could be cuddled up in bed with Ale and I’s cat and dog.
Once I finally finished with her blouse I threw it across the floor of Ale and I’s room, leaving it with the pile of clothes that had collected on our armchair in the corner. I then moved onto Lucy’s bra, reaching behind her back and unclasping it, smirking as she bit down particularly hard as I pulled the bra from her body.
I let her leave her marks for a little while, sitting back on the bed, Alexia joining us both and joining Lucy at my neck, the both of them occupying themselves with marking me. I couldn’t help but feel the competitive energy between them, they were both dominant individuals in their own right. Alexia was possessive over me as my girlfriend, but so was Lucy on a friend level. Her, Keira and I made up the ‘Spanglish’ trio at Barca and we were practically inseparable, so Lucy was highly protective of me in that way, she had been since we were kids.
“Please.”
Lucy smirked into her spot onto my collarbone, I wasn’t a full on moaning mess yet but I was starting to get worked up but I wanted more.
Lucy picked her head up out of my neck and looked up at me.
“What do you want?”
Lucy looked at Alexia, checking it was all okay and when she got the confirmation there was nothing wrong with her actions she looked back at me.
“More.”
Lucy nodded at me, but she didn’t progress any more.
“Use your words, bebita.” (baby)
I groaned as Alexia’s mouth found it’s way to my pulse point, sucking down deeply on the point and then withdrawing completely.
I whimpered at the lack of contact, my eyes snapping open to look at the two women. The back of Alexia’s palm came down onto the inside of my thigh, without warning, leaving me to yelp out of surprise.
“Lucia asked you to do something, puta (slut), listen to her or we’re going to find ourselves in a very different situation, comprendida?” (Understood?)
I nodded quickly at Alexia, desperate for more attention, desperate for both of their lips to return to my body.
“Si entiendo, lo siento. Please, my pussy.” (Yes, I understand, I’m sorry)
Lucy smirked at me, they were playing coy, toying with me until I broke, it was a game that Ale loved to play and she knew it drove me insane.
“Does your perfect little pussy want some attention? Does it feel all forgotten right now? Are we not giving you enough attention?”
Alexia’s lips returned to my neck, dipping a little bit lower and navigating their way down across my chest. I kept my eyes on Lucy, silently pleading with her to please, give my fucking throbbing pussy some attention, before it fucking imploded below me.
“Please, fuck, Please.”
Lucy licked her lips, it was clear she was gaining enjoyment from riling me up and I couldn’t find it in me to despise her for it, I was just so fucking desperate.
“Mm, Ale do you think she deserves it?”
Ale’s head rose from my chest once again, her lips were swollen and tinged slightly redder than normal.
“I’m not sure, we did promise her some attention if she treated you well, but she can wait longer if we want her to. It’s up to you, she did play so well considering though, and we have been riling her up.”
It was clear Ale was enjoying being the backseat driver for this scene, she always had to have control, always had to be in charge. She loved it but a part of me also knew that she probably didn’t mind taking the passenger seat for a lapse in time, letting Lucy take the reins whilst she took in the moment.
“Mm, what do you want bebita?”
I gulped, moaning at the feeling of Alexia wrapping her tongue around my nipple, the sensation sending shocks throughout my whole body.
“Anything, hands, mouth, please, just anything.”
I was laying the desperation on thick, letting my barriers down to express the pure yearning I had for something, anything to just fucking touch me.
“Alright, I think we can do something about that, hm?”
I nodded at Lucy and moaned as her hand snaked its way down my chest, travelling down the flat surface of my stomach and then the hips. Before I knew it her hand was dipping down below my knees and I was a mess, as soon as a single digit made its way through my folds.
“You're so wet, bebita, we’ve hardly touched you and you're dripping all over the sheets.”
Lucy’s words were just encouragement for me, just another factor in my pleasure. Ale was smirking from her spot against my breasts, fiddling with one of my nipples between her fingers and biting on the other one whilst Lucy explored my cunt with just her finger.
It didn’t take long for the digit to be pushed into my hole. It slid in with ease, my hole adjusting to Lucy’s lone finger fairly quickly.
She worked her way in, knuckle by knuckle, even though she didn’t have to. Moving her finger at a snail like pace, her thumb rubbing lazily against my clit. I needed more, more friction, more movement, more anything. I pushed my hips down against her hand, but almost as soon as I did her hands were off of me.
“If you can’t be patient then your pretty little pussy isn’t getting any attention, comprendida bebita?”
I nodded quickly back at Lucy, any contact was good, anything.
I moaned sinfully as her hands returned to my body, not objecting as Alexia pushed my body backwards against the sheets, so that I was lying down and the two older women were towering over me on the bed, the both of them busying themselves with their self assigned jobs.
I spread my legs for Lucy, allowing her proper access to my body as I focus on Ale’s lips and fingers against my skin, adorning my body with little touches and marks, my senses were heightened from her actions, guaranteeing any touch from Lucy to elicit a fairly filthy moan to leave my mouth.
She kept her movements fairly measured and vague, dipping her finger in every once in a while, otherwise toying with my clit very gently or just working her fingers through my wetness.
It was driving me positively insane and I didn’t know how much more of the little touches and gentleness I could handle, my brain's wiring starting to slowly come undone at the hands of my teammates.
“Please, please, more.”
The words were murmured out between moans, I was becoming a complete mess with the little touches and I hated it, I hated it because all I wanted was to be fucked hard and fast, unforgivingly and the softness of their actions was driving me fucking insane. I was fairly sure they knew it, Alexia could practically read my mind, she had to know that I wanted more, that I was craving more, craving the feeling of being fucked out of my fucking mind.
“Is this not enough for you?”
Lucy’s voice was so fucking condescending, it was driving me insane in all of the best ways.
“Just please more, mas por favor, mas por favor, Luce.” (more please, more please)
I watched contemplation make its way across Lucy’s face, she was clearly deep in thought, planning her next move very carefully.
“Okay bebita, I’ll give you more.”
I didn’t have time to think about her answer, the feeling of two more of her fingers stretching out my hole being enough to have me keeling over in pleasure. It was the perfect, stretch, faster. Everything that I wanted and the feeling of Lucy’s fingers curling perfectly against that spot, was so good that I almost saw stars as soon as she brushed over it.
She kept going at a fairly rigorous pace, slowly edging me towards the line of pure pleasure and it was good. The feeling of Alexia’s teeth grazing my upper body mixed with the combination of Lucy’s actions was euphoric to me, completely addictive.
“Fuck, Luce so good, so fucking good.”
The feeling of her fingertips, slightly coarse from the callouses developed over the years, brushing up against my g-spot was inexplicable, making every single inch of my body warm with pleasure.
“Mm, you going to cum bebita, show us how good you can be?”
Her words were enough to send another set of shocks out across my body, my thighs starting to tremble on either side of Lucy.
“Please, can I cum, please, fuck.”
Alexia lifted her head from my chest, looking at me inquisitively.
“No.”
“She’s been a good girl, Reina.”
Alexia shook her head again, my body having an internal battle as the two women looked between each other and then back down at me.
“Please, Ale, fuck, please.”
Lucy’s hand was still pumping furiously inside of me as the two women stared at each other, both of them wearing similar expressions of stubbornness.
“She can wait, quieres correrte puta?” (do you want to come, slut?)
I nodded furiously at Ale, I was teetering right on the edge of orgasm and I didn’t think I could last much longer, my self control slowly slipping away as Lucy worked at my pussy tirelessly.
“Joder, por favor Ale, por favor.” (Fuck, please Ale, please)
Ale shook her head at me, but in contrast Lucy nodded at me, it was messing with my head, the two of them obviously disagreeing on the topic.
“Lucia, aquí no mandas tu, soy yo. Si quieres usar el juguete con ella más tarde te portarás bien.” (Lucia, you’re not in charge here, I am. If you want to use the toy on her later than you will behave)
Alexia’s Spanish was aggressive and spoken fast enough that I couldn’t understand it properly. Lucy’s Spanish was better than mine, Ale had tried her hardest to teach me in the few months that I’d been here and the years that we’d been dating but I was horrible at learning a new language, Lucy was less shocking then I was and I knew by her facial expression that she understood most, if not all of what Ale was saying to her.
All of a sudden Lucy’s hand was withdrawing itself from my heat, the two women arguing furiously in Spanish above me.
“Me prometiste.” (You promised.)
Ale glared at Lucy before starting a flurry of Spanish that I didn’t even try to translate.
“Estás discutiendo conmigo, Lucia? Quieres siquiera estar aquí? Tal vez deberías irte a casa.”
(Are you arguing with me Lucia? Do you want to be here? Continue and you can go home)
I was no longer being touched, no longer had the attention on me, the two women on top of me completely wrapped up in their fight for dominance to care about my pleasure that I’d been so close to reaching. It annoyed me, listening to the two of them go back and forth in a language that I couldn’t understand. I was fairly certain that Lucy didn’t even fully understand everything Alexia was saying to her, but based on her tone of voice and some of the words she must have been piecing it together.
I watched, slightly annoyed, as the two bit back at each other. It was malicious and boring for me, who had no idea what they were saying and I was honestly to horny to care.
I couldn’t help but let my hand slide down the inside of my thigh, now forgotten by Lucy. If they weren’t going to give me attention I’d give it to myself.
My hand only made it as far as my clit though before it was very quickly snatched by Alexia, her quick reflexes coming into play, one of her hands grabbing my hand that was between my thighs and the other hand coming down on my thigh in a resounding slap.
“Maldita zorra, realmente no puedes esperar, verdad? Entonces jodidamente impaciente. Te arrepentirás.” (Fucking slut, you really can’t wait can you? So fucking impatient, You’re going to regret that.)
I understood those words and they made my core shiver.
Alexia made quick work of finding my other hand, pulling the forgotten blindfold over my head. It was still slightly damp with Lucy’s juices, Alexia brought my two wrists together above my head and used the once blindfold to secure them together, so they were bound above my head, resting on the pillows behind me.
“I think it’s about time we give you what you want, hm, you're so impatient today, so needy to be filled. What do you want, tell me slut.”
Alexia’s hand was grasping my chin now and it was all becoming too much for me, my brain overstimulating itself from the sudden attention.
“Por favor, fóllame.” (Please, just fuck me.)
Alexia smirked at my pleading, she loved it when I spoke Spanish to her, I think she was a little bit proud of me when I did.
“Is that what you want, for me or Lucia to use the strap on you, stuff you full?”
I nodded furiously at Alexia, as much as I could with the grip she had on my chin.
“Si, please Luce, fill me up?”
Lucy’s jaw almost dropped to the floor at my words, I could tell she was trying her hardest to keep herself composed but my words had gotten to her.
“Second draw, of the dresser, Lucia.”
Lucy was up off the bed almost immediately, Ale busying herself with one of my nipples, rubbing the little nub in between her two fingers, toying with it in a painfully sensitive way whilst pressing gentle kisses along my jawline.
In what I was certain was record time Lucy had returned to the bed, this time with Alexia’s favourite strap fastened across her hips. I wished I could take a mental picture of Lucy kneeling in between my legs, Alexia and I’s favourite dildo hanging securely between her legs.
“I think you’ve prepped her enough with your fingers, she’s soaked so you shouldn’t need lube.”
Alexia nodded at Lucy reassuringly, any past argument and tension between the two now dismissed by the overall theme of giving me pleasure.
The feeling of the tip of the dildo pushing through my folds was enough to have my back arching against the bed. Alexia’s lips on my jaw long forgotten as Lucy oh so gently pushed into my entrance. It was pure ecstasy, illicit moans leaving my mouth as she pushed the length of the cock into my cunt, my pussy devouring every inch until Lucy’s hips were pressed against my own. She sat like that for a few seconds, letting me adjust to the intrusion before starting to rock back and forth. My hips met hers on every single thrust, my body pushing itself down against her to try and get as much off the dildo crammed into me as I could.
Lucy was leaning over me, Ale’s lips leaving my body to meet Lucy’s, the two of them meeting in a teeth clashing kiss, the both of them fighting for dominance in the kiss whilst Lucy continued to push into me at a unrelenting pace, it was so fucking good, the sex equivalent to drugs. I was practically incoherent, moans and half words leaving my mouth as Lucy pounded into me.
“Ale, please can I cum, por favor.”
Alexia removed her lips from Lucy’s for long enough to speak to me.
“Cum, cum cãrino, once you start though you aren’t stopping until Lucia and I are done, comprendida?”
I didn’t even need to listen to the second half of Ale’s words, my body already spasming as my orgasm washed over me. My vision went black and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as everything blurred and everything mellowed out for a few seconds as I bathed in the post orgasmic bliss. Then, suddenly, it all came crashing back down on me, the feeling of Lucy still pounding into my now very sensitive pussy was too much, too much feeling, too much pleasure, too much everything and I could feel the tears springing to my eyes.
“No más, No más.”
Ale looked down at me, smirking slightly as the tears leaked from my eyes. I was so over stimulated, I could feel absolutely everything, my senses heightened beyond anything I was used to all a sudden.
“One more bebita, give us one more, I know you can do it cãrino, let go for us.”
The mixture of Ale’s words and Lucy pressing a soft kiss to my breast was enough to send me over the edge for a second time, my body trembling uncontrollably with the aftershocks as I blacked out completely from the mixture of pleasure and dull pain. I went limp against our sheets, my body completely done and tired from the actions of the night.
I felt Lucy slowly ease out of me and Ale getting up from the mattress beside me, I mewled slightly at the abrupt complete loss of contact but relaxed when I felt Lucy’s toned body slide in beside me, pulling the covers of the bed over the two of us and bringing my head up to her chest. I kept my eyes closed, still shaking from my orgasm. Lucy unwrapped my hands from their bonds ever so gently, rubbing at the place that the silk had been before guiding them to her stomach, resting my hands against her stomach, letting me gently draw circles against the surface of her skin. Lucy moved onto gently running her hands through my hair, combing out any knots that had come from our activities, her hands ever so carefully working their way through my tresses, using the perfect amount of pressure to tug at the lengths but not tugging hard enough to hurt. She worked gently at my scalp, her hands massaging my skin.
It wasn’t long before Ale returned to us, sliding in on the other side of me, one of her hands making it’s way to my bicep, gently rubbing the skin with her hands, letting her hand press in just enough for me to find comfort in the action.
I opened my eyes slightly when she pressed down on my bicep hard enough to get my attention. She waved a water bottle in my direction and I understood the memo. I sat myself up a little bit against Lucy, my whole body practically leaning against her. Ale handed me a bottle and then moved on to pressing on into Lucy’s palm, ordering me to drink and me not having the energy to say no to her. The water felt good going in, cooling my now slightly sore throat.
“How’s the head, mi amor?”
There was worry laced between Alexia’s eyebrow as she looked my body up and down, looking for any signs that I was anything but okay. She was always worrying about me, especially when I got injured.
“Fine, a little bit sore but okay.”
Alexia nodded at me, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to my forehead before turning her head in Lucy’s direction.
“Lucia Roberta, drink some water.”
Lucy perked up at Alexia’s words, opening her drink bottle dutifully and taking a few sips before placing it on the bedside table next to her. Alexia rolled her eyes at Lucy but didn’t push it, wrapping an arm around my torso and relaxing against my body.
“How was it amar, everything you wanted?”
I nodded against Alexia, from my spot sandwiched in between her chest and Lucy’s.
“It was fucking perfect.”
Alexia smirked at my words.
“How about you Lucia?”
I felt Lucy inhale from her spot above me, the woman leaning down to press a kiss to both Alexia and I’s cheeks before replying.
“Words couldn’t describe.”
I snorted into Lucy’s chest, finding solace in the warmth of the two bodies I was in between, everything feeling so perfect and right in that moment.
“Get some sleep you two, you both deserve it after how perfect you were on the field.”
I smiled into Alexia’s chest, unable to suppress the eyeroll at her way of bringing her captaining into the fucking bedroom.
“Love you Ale, Love you Luce.”
I relaxed into the two bodies beside them. We would talk about how it had come about in the morning, talk about doing this again, I was sure of it. For now though, I was happy lying between the two women, willing to let my body loosen up and relax in the safety of the two women's arms.
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voidpetrova · 7 months
Text
fading boundaries — jeremy gilbert x reader
Tumblr media
☄. *. ⋆
content warnings and genres: swearing, possessiveness, slut-shaming — fluff
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
synopsis: jeremy never should've allowed himself to fall for you. he was a hunter, and it went against his beliefs to fall for you, a vampire. his jealousy and hatred only grow when he sees that you've caught everybody's attention, not just his
✧.*
the moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow upon the quiet streets of mystic falls. jeremy leaned against a lamppost, his gaze fixed on the mansion that stood at the edge of the town. his heart raced, a conflicted maelstrom of emotions swirling within him. he had never thought he'd find himself in this position, torn between duty and desire.
it had all started with a chance encounter. an innocent moment that had ignited a spark he couldn't ignore. you, a vampire, had entered his life, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that jeremy struggled to unravel. his heart despised itself for succumbing to feelings he'd been taught to reject.
jeremy was a vampire hunter, trained in the art of tracking and eliminating the supernatural creatures that prowled the night. it was a duty passed down through generations of his family, a legacy that weighed heavily on his shoulders. but destiny had a way of blurring lines, and now he found himself drawn to the very beings he was supposed to hunt.
his thoughts were a whirlwind of self-loathing and confusion. every stolen glance, every shared moment—each one etched deeper into his soul. the undeniable truth was that he was falling in love with you, a vampire, an existence that clashed with everything he believed in.
and what stung even more was the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who held your attention. damon salvatore, with his devilish charm and enigmatic allure, had a way of commanding the room whenever he entered. and then there was stefan, the brooding and tortured soul, whose longing gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness straight into your heart.
jealousy gnawed at jeremy's insides, a bitter taste that he tried to ignore. he had seen the way you interacted with the salvatore brothers—moments that seemed to play out like a dance of secrets and shared histories. it made him question his place in your life, a place that seemed minuscule in comparison.
as he stood there in the moonlit night, jeremy's fingers clenched around the pendant that hung around his neck—a symbol of his lineage, a reminder of his duty. but the more he tried to push you away, the tighter the invisible thread between you two seemed to become.
his internal struggle was far from over, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. little did he know that the intricate web of emotions and choices would lead him down a path of self-discovery, testing the boundaries of love, jealousy, and the blurred lines between right and wrong.
the salvatore mansion's grand ballroom was aglow with soft candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the ornate walls. it was one of those rare occasions when the town's supernatural residents and humans mingled under the same roof, an uneasy truce that brought tension to the air.
jeremy watched from a distance as the guests swirled around, their laughter and music blending into a symphony of decadence. his gaze shifted to you, standing near the center of the room, your elegance and beauty drawing the eye of everyone present, including his.
he clenched his jaw, a mix of emotions surging within him. tonight, he had told himself, would be different. he would keep his jealousy in check and try to find a way to coexist with the knowledge that he wasn't the only one vying for your attention. but fate had other plans.
stefan salvatore, his usually composed façade replaced with a smile that could charm even the most steadfast hearts, approached you. jeremy's heart tightened as he observed the scene unfolding before him.
“may i have this dance?” stefan's voice held a velvety quality that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.
you smiled, your eyes meeting his. “of course, stefan.”
as you and stefan swayed to the rhythm of the music, jeremy's fingers clenched into fists at his sides. he had seen this before, the way stefan had an uncanny ability to draw people in, to make them feel like they were the center of the universe. but right now, it was you who had his attention, and that was something jeremy was finding increasingly difficult to accept.
he turned away, his breath coming in short, frustrated bursts. he walked briskly toward the balcony, seeking the solace of the cool night air. the night sky stretched out before him, stars twinkling overhead like distant, unattainable dreams.
“hey.”
the voice behind him made jeremy's muscles tense. he turned to find damon leaning casually against the balcony railing, a glass of bourbon in his hand.
“damon,” jeremy muttered, his tone guarded.
damon arched an eyebrow, his lips curving into a half-smile. “trouble in paradise?”
jeremy's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.
damon took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on jeremy. “you know, jealousy doesn't suit you, kid.”
jeremy's eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and vulnerability. “what do you know about it?”
damon's gaze softened slightly. “more than you might think. look, there's a lot you don't understand about this world, about us.”
jeremy's fists clenched again, his frustration mounting. “and what? you're here to offer me some kind of wisdom?”
damon's tone turned serious. “i'm here to remind you that life's too short to let jealousy eat you alive. if you care about her, you'll figure out a way to deal with it. otherwise, you're just gonna end up miserable.”
jeremy's anger was replaced by a mix of resignation and realization. he stared out at the night sky, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.
as the party continued inside, jeremy took a deep breath, letting damon's words sink in. it was a battle within himself that he needed to confront—a battle between his feelings for you and the jealousy that threatened to consume him.
jeremy's frustration simmered beneath the surface, an undercurrent of emotions that he struggled to contain. he turned his gaze back to the ballroom, his eyes finding you still dancing with stefan. the jealousy that had been a constant companion flared into something more potent—a raging fire that threatened to consume him whole.
he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to regain his composure. the music seemed to mock him, the cheerful notes contrasting starkly with the turmoil within his heart.
“still having your pity party?”
the voice that interrupted his thoughts was familiar, and yet, it grated on his already frayed nerves. damon had followed him once more in order to keep an eye on him, his piercing gaze assessing jeremy's clenched stance.
his jaw tightened, his resentment aimed at both damon and the situation. “why do you even care?”
damon's gaze held a mixture of exasperation and something else—something jeremy couldn't quite decipher. he gave a casual shrug. “just thought you could use some company out here. you seem a bit on edge.”
jeremy's frustration bubbled over. “you're not helping, asshole. if you wanna be helpful, stay out of my business.”
damon's eyes glinted mischievously, his lips curling into a faint smile. “oh, come on, don't be like that. it's a party. let loose a little.”
jeremy's patience wore thin, his anger bubbling to the surface. “i don't need your advice, and i definitely don't need you interfering.”
damon's smile only widened, his gaze flickering to the ballroom. “speaking of which—”
before jeremy could react, damon turned away and strolled back into the ballroom. he seamlessly joined you and stefan on the dance floor, his presence commanding attention. jeremy watched as damon skillfully guided you through the dance, his movements smooth and calculated.
stefan's laughter mixed with the music, and you seemed caught between the two salvatore brothers, your eyes flickering between them as you danced.
damon's voice, dripping with charm, reached jeremy's ears as he exchanged flirtatious banter with you. “you know, you really know how to light up the room.”
stefan's response was equally playful, his voice laced with innuendo. “oh, damon, flattery won't get you everywhere.”
you laughed, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “boys, you're both shameless.”
damon's eyes held a challenge as he twirled you. “can you blame us? when a stunning girl like you graces us with her presence?”
stefan chimed in, his fingers brushing against yours. “it's impossible not to be captivated.”
jeremy's anger surged, a mix of jealousy and rage burning within him. he had to clench his fists to keep from storming into the ballroom. the sight of you being courted by both stefan and damon ignited a fire in him that he couldn't ignore.
the dance continued, each word exchanged between you, stefan, and damon stoking jeremy's fury. he felt like an outsider, an observer to a scene that was slowly driving him to the edge.
finally, the dance came to an end, but the tension in the air lingered. damon and stefan shared a knowing smirk, leaving jeremy seething on the balcony.
as the two of them sauntered away, he stood there, his heart racing and his emotions in turmoil. he had never felt so powerless, so consumed by jealousy. the night air did little to soothe his frayed nerves, and he was left grappling with the realization that the battle for your attention was far from over.
the moon cast a silvery glow over the deserted alleyway, the shadows playing tricks on the eyes. jeremy leaned against a brick wall, his jaw clenched as he watched you approach. the tension between you two was palpable, a result of the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter.
“jeremy,” you greeted, your tone laced with a mix of amusement and condescension. “what brings you to the dark side of town? looking for a quick fix again?”
he shot you a glare, his eyes narrowing. “just figured i'd see what you're up to. not like i've got anything better to do.”
you chuckled softly, your lips curving into a sardonic smile. “ah, the illustrious life of a vampire hunter. must be quite the thrill.”
jeremy's fists tightened, his irritation evident. “more thrilling than a never-ending existence, i'd say.”
you raised an eyebrow, a spark of challenge in your gaze. “at least i don't have to worry about growing old and wrinkled.”
he retorted with a smirk, his sarcasm matching yours. “yeah, immortality does wonders for the complexion.”
the banter continued, each word exchanged between you a careful dance of barbs and retorts. the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter was a thick fog that enveloped the conversation, masking the underlying currents of tension.
you tilted your head, your tone mocking. “so, what's the plan, jerm? lure me into a trap, perhaps? or maybe you're here to try and convince me to give up my evil ways”
his gaze held a mix of defiance and frustration. “i don't need to convince you of anything. your track record speaks for itself.”
you chuckled, your laughter like a cool breeze on a summer night. “ah, jeremy, always the charmer. it's a wonder you haven't won over every vampire in town with your winning personality.”
his eyes flared with anger, his patience wearing thin. “says the vampire who can't seem to resist dancing with every salvatore brother in sight.”
the mention of the salvatores seemed to strike a chord, your expression flickering for a moment before you masked it with a smirk. “jealousy doesn't suit you, little gilbert. but i must admit, it's quite the entertainment watching you try to keep up.”
he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “at least i'm not pretending to be something i'm not.”
you took a step closer, your gaze locking onto his. “and what's that, exactly? the tortured soul with a chip on his shoulder?”
jeremy's voice turned cold, his words a dagger aimed at your heart. “better than being a bloodsucking slut.”
you laughed, the sound echoing through the alleyway like a haunting melody. “oh, jeremy, you have no idea what you're missing out on.”
as the tension between you two continued to escalate, the words you exchanged were like a battlefield of wit and resentment. the lines between enemies and allies were blurred, the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.
and as the moonlight bathed the alley in its silvery glow, the clash of wills between vampire and vampire hunter seemed to echo the timeless struggle between light and darkness.
the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar, a familiar meeting place for the residents of mystic falls. the entire gang had gathered there for a rare moment of respite, a chance to unwind amid the constant chaos that seemed to engulf their lives.
you stood by the pool table, a cue stick in hand as you lined up your shot. the sharp crack of the balls echoed through the air as you sank one into a corner pocket. stefan, ever the gentleman, approached from behind, a smile playing on his lips.
“nice shot,” he remarked, his voice laced with admiration.
you turned to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “thanks, stef. guess i have a natural talent for handling sticks.”
stefan's grin widened, his charm evident. “oh, i'm sure you do. but the real question is, can you handle the pressure?” you bit your lip, locking eyes with your favorite vampire. “how about you give me some pressure worth handling?”
his laughter mingled with yours, the two of you sharing a moment that seemed to ignite a spark in the air. as you lined up your next shot, the flirtatious exchange continued, the chemistry between you and stefan undeniable.
jeremy, nursing a drink at the bar, watched the scene unfold with a mixture of irritation and jealousy. the snarky remarks you and stefan exchanged felt like a constant reminder of his own frustration, a reminder of the feelings he was desperately trying to suppress.
damon, leaning against the bar beside jeremy, chimed in. “looks like our friend jeremy here could use a bit of that playful banter in his life.”
jeremy shot him a glare. “i'd rather not engage in childish games.”
damon raised an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. “pity, really. you're missing out on all the fun.”
as the night wore on, the tension between you and jeremy seemed to escalate with every sarcastic barb. the energy was thick with resentment and a tangled web of emotions, a battle of words that had become a battlefield of its own.
elena, sensing the growing hostility, exchanged a concerned look with bonnie. with a knowing glance, elena approached her brother, her expression firm yet empathetic. “you need to talk to her, jeremy.”
he looked at her incredulously. “why would i do that?”
elena's gaze softened, her voice gentle. “because this jealousy isn't healthy, and it's only getting worse. you have to be honest with yourself and with her.”
jeremy's gaze hardened, his anger still simmering. “why does it even matter?”
elena's voice was steady. “because you can't keep pretending that your feelings for her don't exist. it's not fair to either of you.”
with a sigh, jeremy leaned against the bar, his defenses crumbling. he watched as you shared another flirtatious smile with stefan, the jealousy gnawing at him like a persistent ache.
finally, he approached you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “can we talk?”
you turned to him, your gaze cool but curious. “sure, if you can handle a conversation without your usual bitchiness.”
he nodded, the tension between you two palpable. as you stepped away from the pool table and found a quieter corner, the echoes of the bar's chaos faded into the background.
the corner you found was dimly lit, the ambient noise of the bar fading into a distant murmur as you and jeremy faced each other. the tension between you was increasing, an unspoken storm of emotions swirling in the air.
jeremy cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “look, i know I've been an asshole, and I've said a lot of things i didn't mean. but the truth is—i've been struggling with something i didn't want to admit.”
you arched an eyebrow, your voice laced with skepticism. “and what's that, jer?”
he took a deep breath, his voice earnest. “i've been jealous. jealous of the attention you get, especially from stefan. i've been hiding my feelings behind snarky comments and sarcasm, but the reality is—i care about you. more than i should.”
your gaze softened, the walls around your heart beginning to crumble. his honesty was unexpected, and it touched something within you that you had been trying to bury.
“you know, jeremy,” you said softly, “it's not easy being a vampire in a world where vampire hunters exist. there's a constant struggle to reconcile who i am with what i've become.”
he nodded, his expression understanding. “i get that. i do. and maybe that's why i've been pushing you away, because i couldn't handle my own conflicting emotions.”
you took a step closer, the distance between you closing. “so, what now?”
jeremy's gaze locked onto yours, his voice steady. “i want to stop pretending. i want to stop fighting what i feel, even if it means admitting that I'm not as strong as i thought.”
a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “that's a start.”
before either of you could say another word, the tension that had been building between you erupted into a fiery passion. his lips crashed against yours, a mixture of longing and pent-up emotions spilling over in the form of a scorching kiss.
the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of you in that moment. it was a kiss fueled by months of frustration, desire, and a newfound honesty that had broken down the barriers between you.
when the kiss finally ended, you both pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed. the air was charged with electricity, the connection between you stronger than ever before.
“wow,” jeremy muttered, his voice a mixture of surprise and wonder.
you grinned, your heart pounding in your chest. “yeah, wow.”
the weight of unspoken words hung in the air, a promise of what could be if you both chose to let go of the past and embrace the uncertain future.
as you stood there, hand in hand, the possibilities stretched out before you like an open road. the complexities of your emotions were no longer a barrier, but a bridge—a bridge that could lead to something unexpected, something beautiful, and something worth the risk.
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soft-and-bitter · 1 year
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We Can Last Forever
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Mafia!Bucky x Ex!Reader
You turn to an old flame in a moment of desperation. Bucky takes full advantage of the situation to bargain for something he's wanted as soon as he set eyes on you.
Word Count: 1853
Warning(s): swearing, descriptions drug use and sexual situations
If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤
M A S T E R L I S T
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"Look who we have here," he murmured, smirking. There wasn't a trace of worry in his tone, nor on his handsome face. And for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, these facts only served to elevate your own stress, the urgency of the situation now clearer than ever.
Bucky was your last resort.
"Hi," you greeted. Despite the sheer brevity involved, even you could hear how unsure you sounded, but it was just as well; you were winging this after all, what with all your options up in flames. On the other hand, you also couldn't fuck this up either, because what else would you come up with if this didn't work out?
With a deep breath, you tried again. "Hi, Bucky. I'm sorry this is so last minute."
He tilted his head, the black turtleneck he wore accentuating the steep line of his jaw. "It wouldn't have been if you'd called ahead of time. Oh, wait," he said, lip curling, "you got rid of my number from your phone. How could I have ever forgotten?"
You looked away, both hands gripping your phone behind your purse. Rather than place it next to you on the plush sofa, you'd opted to set it on your lap. Maybe you saw it as a barrier, however meagre, just something other than the distance that separated you from Bucky. For protection? But it was you who had sought him out, not the other way around.
There was no stilling your frantic thoughts, all those contradictions and uncertainties colliding against each other to form some ugly kaleidoscope of confusion in your head. Several stories below, the club was at the height of its frenzy, the bass throbbing faintly against the walls of Bucky's office, a cursed soundtrack to score the situation you were in, with no promise it was ending anytime soon.
"I . . . it felt like the right thing to do at the time," you tried explaining, still clutching your phone tightly. "I wasn`t ready to deal with the truth."
He chuckled softly. "Yet here you are," he said, each word sliding past his lips in a slow drawl. "I guess there's no keeping me out of your life after all, despite that text of yours."
You turned your head to look back up at him again. Bucky was leaning against his expansive chrome and glass desk, long fingers curled around the edges. His jet-black suit was tailored within an inch of its life; one of his cufflinks winking at you playfully, as if amused by your discomfort and panic.
"You're right, I guess I can't."
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, it is what it is. Now tell me why you're here."
Here was your moment, your golden opportunity. You didn't shy away from the details. Why would you when everything you described was all part of his sordid world, the drugs and the money owed, the nefarious parties involved? And so you laid it all out before him like a spread made up of your family's suffering: stressed and overworked, David had gone back to an old habit his dirt bag of an uncle had first introduced him to more than a decade ago. One hit after another, then another, and now your brother—the smarter of the two, in your opinion, and certainly the more successful—was now in so much debt he'd brought up the possibility of selling your mom's home for cash.
Bucky didn't react when you told him how much you needed to borrow. That soothed your nerves somewhat; if he wasn't fazed by the amount, then maybe he'd be more willing to part with his money.
You hoped.
"We'll have the money back in your hands before you even get a chance to miss it," you assured with a smile you hoped was blinding enough for Bucky. "David just has to get through this hump, but once he does, everything will be fine."
Just for a moment you wondered whose worries you were really trying to assuage—Bucky's or yours? Because paying off David's dealer was one thing, but your brother had also promised to check into rehab asap. Yet even with his high-paying FAANG job in Silicon Valley, he had already blown through his savings, together with any credit he'd been approved for. To top it all off, the massive bonus he kept harping on about wouldn't get paid out until the end of the year. You yourself had funnelled whatever money you could spare to help his cause. Where the hell would the money come from until then?
Bucky sighed audibly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You haven't exactly explained why I should help you in the first place," he said.
He wasn't wrong, you realized. And really, it was what you`d hoped to avoid all along. "Listen, I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but . . . I guess I thought we had something special going on between us. Special enough that I felt I could turn to you."
"You're right, I don't believe you," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Try harder, won't you?"
You stared up at him, a furrow between your brows. "It's the truth, Bucky. I was scared, okay? And let's face it: you knew I'd be, didn't you? Otherwise you would've told me from the start what the hell you really were."
He didn't respond to that right away. In the silence that ensued, with the club's bass pounding at the same speed as your heartbeat, you began to doubt yourself. Couldn't you have handled that with a little more finesse? What if Bucky was offended by your response that he decided he was going to turn you away?
When he finally spoke, it was with an edge of mockery and triumph in his voice. "Just so we're clear: you've come to ask a crime lord to help you when the very fact of me being one had you running off in the first place."
"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."
Bucky scoffed. "I sure hope the irony's not lost on you."
The smile you offered him was sardonic at best. "Believe me, it's not."
Just when you were convinced that you'd screwed this up entirely, Bucky pushed himself off the edge of his desk and moved towards you, closing the distance. Neon blue strobe lights flashed through the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the club, casting otherworldly shadows across his face as he stalked nearer. You didn't turn your head to watch when he dropped into the sofa next to you, stretching his arms wide across the headrest. His fingers feathered against one of your shoulder blades.
From the corner of your eye you watched as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, sighing once again. "If you want my help, you'll comply with whatever I set out for you," he said.
"Like what?"
You could feel his gaze on you. "For starters, I'd like a kiss."
"Are you serious? Now?"
"Now," he echoed.
"And that's it?"
He gave a light shrug. "The night's still young. We'll just have to see how things go."
"But why?"
"Why not?" he countered, fingers drumming against the headrest. "Besides, you're the one who thought there was something special between us. Let's see what's left."
For a moment, you hesitated. Bucky's request was simple, but that was where the uncertainty lay. There was something between the two of you, even now, even after you left him in the lurch, that it was enough for you to reach out to him. You were doubtful a kiss would prove that to him, though.
There had been so much more you'd done with him, after all.
"Well?"
You studied his face. His expression was still passive, but curiosity shone bright in his eyes. What choice did you have? David was counting on you now, his own fear and panic elevating your own. With a tilt of your head you leaned forward, eyes falling closed, as you caught Bucky's lips with yours.
Bucky didn't react at first, and you nearly stopped, too shy and uncertain to entertain the possibility of being unwanted, that this was just a cheap way for him to get back at you. But then his lips moved against yours, bold and intentional; when he coaxed your mouth opened and his tongue slid past your teeth, you realized.
He still wanted you.
Both your phone and your purse dropped somewhere below you as one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. Bucky drew you in deeper, his hold fierce, lips desperate and bruising, pulling you into a well of memories: his naked body against yours, mouth lingering on intimate spots that made you cry out in ecstasy, the sweet words he'd whispered in your ear while you came down from your high. Let me give you more. Let me give you everything. You just have to stay. Can you do that? For me?
His lips latched onto the side of your neck as you lost yourself further in his touch, fingers tangled in his dark hair, while his large hand fanned across your breast—
Your phone was like a grenade going off. You jerked back in panic, gasping for breath while the familiar melody on your device blared throughout the room. It was Bucky who got to it first.
"How fitting," he said, turning your phone around so you could see the screen. "It's your brother."
Heart hammering in your chest, you didn't move at first.
"Go ahead, answer it," he ordered, holding out your phone to you. "Tell David the money will be wired to his account in less than thirty and he's got you to thank for this."
His words were like a bucket of cold water flung at your face. With sudden clarity you remembered why you'd come here in the first place, and it wasn't to re-ignite things with an old flame. You needed Bucky's help, and, to your immense relief, he was giving it to you.
When you accepted your brother's call you cut straight to the chase, telling him of the lifeline Bucky was throwing his way. The only one, you emphasized, hanging up before he could profess any gratitude. David had work to do, but you'd done your part. Your mom would get to keep her house, just like she deserved to.
You looked at Bucky. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to my family."
He smirked at you, his hair now tousled thanks to your doing. "Don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. We're not quite done, are we?"
During the call one of his hands had crept along the inside of your thigh. It remained there, his hold entirely too tight and too hot, even through the fabric of your slacks. When Bucky spoke, you didn't miss the raw desire in his voice, the predatory anticipation that lingered on his smirk.
"We'll finally finish what we started, sweetheart. Just like we were always meant to."
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Jimin's "Like Crazy" had me in such a chokehold when I first listened to it that it inspired this whole damn story; it's the song I imagined blasting down in the club while Reader haggles with Bucky. Hope you guys enjoyed it!
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teapartyspilled · 8 months
Text
It Will Come Back
pairing - Scaramouche x f!reader (Au)
AN: This is a 3-4 part scara angst series. It does not make scara look good. If you're looking for scara comfort, this is not the series you should be reading. Reblogs are much appreciated and I would love your feedback to this :)
Word count - 5400
CW/TW: angst, insecurities, arguments/conflicts, jealousy, suggestive (nothing explicit), crying, heartbreak, mean! scara (sort of), unrequited love, hurt/no comfort
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When he can't give you what you need but gives it oh so willingly to someone else...
PART 1 - Shatter me | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5
In a dimly lit cafe, you sit across from Ayaka and Thoma, sipping at a lukewarm cup of tea. The ambiance is cozy, but the warmth of the place fails to reach you. Your gaze drifts toward the window, where raindrops streak down the glass.
"I know I should look after myself first," you confess. "But it's just... so hard."
Ayaka places a comforting hand on yours, her eyes filled with concern. "We understand, (Y/n). Living with him must be emotionally draining."
Thoma chimes in, his expression a mix of sympathy and frustration. "It sucks that you cannot change the dorm room arrangement until graduation. But at least there are only a few months left."
You nod, trying to force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Yeah, just a few more months," you reply, sounding weary.
Ayaka leans in, her voice gentle. "You don't have to live there, you know. I know you already paid for the dorm, but you could stay with us. We have plenty of extra rooms, and Thoma already lives with us."
Ayato, who had been quiet until now, narrows his eyes and speaks with conviction. "She's right. You don't have to endure this. Come live with us. We'll take care of you."
Your heart swells with gratitude for their kindness, yet a heavy cloud of uncertainty lingers. "I appreciate it, really," you begin, "but... I don't want to run away from my problems.”
Ayato interjects gently, "I understand, but you already have a lot on your plate. The semester ends in a few months, and then you graduate. On top of that, you have reports to submit and jobs to apply for. Living under the same roof as Scaramouche is taking the life out of you."
Ayaka agrees, her eyes full of empathy. "You deserve so much better, (Y/n). Seeing Scaramouche with his new girlfriend is not something you need to experience."
Ayato adds thoughtfully, his eyes softening as he looks at you "You need to draw boundaries with him, especially concerning Miyo, she may be nice and sweet, but seeing them in what is supposed to be your safe space isn't easy on you and it isn't fair."
The weight of your situation bears down upon you, and you feel utterly exhausted, demotivated, burnt out, and mostly empty. The emotional toll of navigating an undefined relationship with Scaramouche, coupled with witnessing him move on with someone else, left you feeling like a ship adrift in stormy seas. You take a deep breath, feeling the heaviness in your chest, and reply with sincerity. "I know you all mean well, and I can't thank you enough for your support. I’ll see what I can do about it. But enough about me, what is going on in your lives?” You switch to a different topic, hoping it would distract you from your thoughts. As the rain outside intensifies, your mind drifts back to a vivid memory, a rainy day much like this one.
You had returned home from a college party; your steps unsteady from the effects of alcohol. Scaramouche, as he often did, had taken advantage of your non-confrontational nature and was munching on your leftovers, a smug grin playing on his lips.
"Hey," you slurred, your voice betraying a mix of anger and uncertainty. "That's... that's my food."
He looked up, his violet eyes meeting yours, a hint of surprise in his expression. "So what?" he retorted, feigning indifference. "You always let me have it anyway."
Your cheeks flushed with irritation, but the alcohol emboldened you, pushing you to speak up. "You can't just take whatever you want, Scaramouche! It's not fair!"
Setting the food aside, he stood up, closing the distance between you with an air of defiance. "Stop being a brat," he shot back. "It's just food."
Anger surged within you, fueled by a mix of alcohol and pent-up frustration. "I'm not a brat!" you countered; your voice tinged with indignation. "And you can't keep treating me like this!"
A tense silence hung between you, the room feeling smaller with every heartbeat. Emotions churned within you like a stormy sea, uncertain and volatile. But amidst the anger, there was something else, something magnetic and undeniable, pulling you both closer. Scaramouche's eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, like an electric charge in the air. Your breath quickened, heart pounding in your chest, as if caught in the eye of a brewing tempest.
The storm of emotions reached its peak, and before you knew it, your lips were on his, a moment of reckless abandon and vulnerability. Time seemed to slow, the world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a whirlwind of desire and frustration. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and the taste of alcohol mingled with the sweetness of the rain outside. The sounds of soft moans and whispered words echoed in the room, like a melody that only the two of you could hear. The anger and frustration that had been pent up between you and him were all released through shared touches, an explosion of emotions that neither of you could resist. In the dim light of your room, his skin against yours felt electrifying, each touch igniting a fire within. It was a night of recklessness and vulnerability, a night when your world would spin on its axis, forever changing your relationship with Scaramouche.
And now, as you stand in front of your dorm room, the present looms before you like a daunting challenge. Your heart clenches with dread, knowing that the moment you step inside, you'll have to face him, the one who has become an intangible part of your life. The fear of having your heart broken anew grips you like a vice, but you know there is no escape from the reality that awaits you. Taking a deep breath, you turn the doorknob, and the room embraces you like an old friend. Yet, the warmth you once felt has been replaced by an icy chill. Your eyes dart around, seeking any sign of Scaramouche. Then, like a sharp blade, the sight of him cuddling on the couch with Miyo pierces your heart. A bowl of popcorn rests on his lap, and he playfully feeds her the kernels. The scene is so intimate, so tender, that it feels like a knife being twisted in your gut.
You force a polite smile as Miyo waves at you excitedly, her presence a constant reminder of what you lack. She invites you to join them, her friendly tone contrasting sharply with the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "We're having fun, come on (Y/n), join us. This movie is good!"
You decline her offer, offering a weak excuse of having work to do. The truth is that you can't bear to be near them, witnessing the affection he showers on her that was always reserved from you. It's not her fault, you know, but the jealousy and hurt gnaw at you nonetheless. She has everything from him that you longed for but never received.
As Miyo's face drops, you see her disappointment, and for a moment, a pang of guilt tugs at your heart. You know she means well, and her understanding demeanor only serves to amplify the turmoil within you. "Alright then, no worries. Good luck with your work," she says with a friendly smile.
Your response is curt as you mutter a quick, "Thank you," before hastily retreating to your room. The weight of emotions bears down on you, crashing into your chest like a tidal wave. You crash onto your bed, your heart heavy with pain and confusion. Three years – three long years you had been there for him, doing everything in your power to keep him happy. Yet, it now feels like you were nothing more than a convenience, a placeholder in his life until he found someone special for himself. The thought stabs at your heart, leaving a searing ache in its wake. It's not just the fact that he's moved on with someone else that hurts; it's the feeling of being forgotten, as if those three years meant nothing to him. The intimacy you shared, the emotions you poured into your undefined relationship, it all feels like a cruel joke now.
You recall the moments you spent together, the laughter, the tears, the shared experiences that bonded you. It was supposed to mean something – it was supposed to be enough. But now, it seems like all those moments were lost in the shadow of Miyo's presence. The ache in your chest intensifies as you wonder why you weren't enough for him. What did she have that you didn't? Was it her sweetness, her warmth, her ability to make him feel special? You find yourself drowning in a sea of self-doubt, questioning your worth and your place in his life. The room around you feels suffocating, the walls closing in as the weight of your emotions presses down on you. The pain of rejection, the bitterness of feeling replaced, it all swirls together into a storm of anguish that threatens to consume you.
The knock on your door startles you, and you take a moment to compose yourself before opening it. To your surprise and dismay, there stands Scara, his face contorted into a scowl. His voice carries a hiss as he demands, "What's your problem?"
You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the turmoil inside. "Excuse me?"
Scara's anger seems to intensify as he snaps back, "Miyo has been trying to be nice to you, trying to hang out, and you keep turning her down, being very bitchy and closed off to her."
Your heart sinks, and anger bubbles up inside you. How dare he accuse you of being rude to Miyo when all you feel is the pain of seeing them together? Before you can respond, he continues, his words laced with exasperation and anger "She's going to be here often whether you like it or not because she is my girlfriend. The least you can do is be nice to her."
His words strike a nerve, and a mix of hurt and frustration washes over you. How can he be so insensitive? Doesn't he understand how difficult this is for you? You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the emotions are too overwhelming.
"I... I don't hate her," you manage to say, your voice shaking slightly. "It's just... seeing you two together... it's hard for me."
Scaramouche's scowl softens a fraction, but there's still a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "Look, I get that it's not easy for you," he mutters, his tone begrudgingly acknowledging your feelings. "But she's important to me, and I won't have you treating her like crap."
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, a mix of sadness and anger building inside you. "I'm not trying to treat her badly," you say, your voice steady. "I'm just trying to cope with everything, and it's hard for me to be around you two right now."
Scaramouche seems taken aback by the sincerity in your voice, but he quickly masks it with a defensive posture. "Well, you better figure it out," he retorts. "Because she's not going anywhere.”
It's not that you want to push Miyo away; it's just that seeing them together is a constant reminder of what you had with him and lost. You want to be happy for him, but it's hard when your heart feels like it's breaking every time you see them together. "I'll try," you say softly, the pain evident in your voice. "I'll try to be nicer, but please understand that it's not easy for me."
Scaramouche's expression softens slightly, and he lets out a sigh. "Fine," he grumbles, seeming to relent just a little. He turns to leave, and you can't help but feel a pang of sadness as you watch him go. The door closes, and you're left alone in your room, the storm of emotions still raging inside you.
You slide down against the door, your body shaking as tears and sobs break from you like a torrential downpour. Everything hurts so much. Your head feels heavy with a thousand thoughts, your heart aches with a pain you can't describe. Was Scaramouche ever this protective of you? You wonder bitterly. Probably not, you chuckle bitterly between sobs. He was always the one to roast you with insults, to chime in when his friends mocked you, to treat you like the butt of a joke. He always had a sense of superiority with everyone... everyone except her.
Miyo. The name feels like a knife in your chest. She came into his life, and suddenly everything changed. The tenderness he showed her was something you had yearned for, but he kept it locked away from you. It feels like betrayal, and the pain is unbearable. You had given so much of yourself to him, only to be tossed aside when someone new came along. As you sit there, feeling utterly broken and defeated, you can't help but question everything. Was there ever a chance for you two? Or were you destined to be the one who loved him more, while he gave his heart to someone else? The memory hits you like a tidal wave, pulling you into a painful flashback of a time not too long ago.
Scaramouche had been acting distant, colder and ruder than usual. The tension between you two was palpable, and it had finally reached its breaking point. You remember sitting in your kitchen over dinner.
"Is everything okay, Scara?" you had asked, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your voice. “You’ve been so closed off, recently.”
He stopped eating, frowning as he set his fork down. "Maybe it's time to end this… end this little charade of ours.," he said, his tone somber.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "What do you mean?"
Scaramouche sighed, looking tired and conflicted. "I'm getting tired of us always arguing, always fighting," he admitted. "And I'm tired of you asking more from me, asking for something I can't offer you... something I don't want to offer you."
You felt your heart shatter at his words, but you refused to give up so easily. "I can be patient," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “I am sorry, Scara. I didn’t mean to come off as pushy. I didn’t know it was affecting you like this.”
But he shakes his head, looking weary and defeated. "It's not about being ready," he says. "I think it's better for us to be just friends. You shouldn't get your hopes up."
Your heart clenches at his words, panic rising within you. You can't bear the thought of losing him, of going back to being just friends when your feelings for him are so much more. "Scara, you can't be doing this," Desperation laced in your voice. "Not now, not when I'm in love with you."
He looks away, unable to meet your gaze. "That's precisely why I can't allow this to continue," he murmurs. In that moment, it felt like your world was crumbling around you. The dinner you had prepared with so much love and hope now lay untouched on the table. He threw the rest of the food in the trash can, as if symbolizing the end of something beautiful yet broken.
You tried to hold back the tears, the pain of rejection and heartbreak too much to bear. You had given so much of yourself to him, and now he was pushing you away, leaving you feeling abandoned and lost. "I don't want to lose you," you said, your voice quivering. "I can't imagine my life without you."
He stood up, and you reached out, as if trying to hold on to him, to keep him from slipping away. As Scaramouche harshly pulls away, you can feel the sharp pain of rejection cutting through you. "I can't deal with this right now," he says angrily, his voice cold and distant. "I need to go."
You stand there, your arms still reaching out for him, but he doesn't look back as he leaves the dorm room, leaving you by yourself to deal with your breaking heart. The tears spill freely from your eyes as the reality of the situation sinks in. The one person you had poured your heart and soul into, the one who had once been so dear to you, had now become a stranger, cold and indifferent.
As you sit in front of your laptop, the memories of that painful night still haunt you. You try to focus on your reports, hoping that burying yourself in work will numb the pain, but it's no use. The ache in your heart is still there, a constant reminder of what you had lost. You remember how he said he would prepare his own meals from now on, how he told you not to wait on him anymore. It felt like he was trying to erase every trace of your connection, as if he wanted to forget that you had ever been a part of his life. The pain is heavy, and the weight of it feels suffocating. You wonder if it will ever end, if you will ever be able to move on from this heartbreak. Graduation feels like a distant hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness of your emotions. The pain is raw, the wounds still fresh, and you wonder if you will ever find the strength to heal. You wish for a reprieve from the anguish, for a way to escape the constant ache in your chest. In the midst of your turmoil, you find solace in the thought that someday, somehow, you will find the strength to mend your broken heart. Until then, you take each day as it comes, hoping that with time, the wounds will heal, the pain will lessen and maybe, just maybe, he will come back to you.
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In the dimly lit living room, Scaramouche returned to the couch, his eyes meeting Miyo's curious gaze. She snuggled against his chest as they continued to watch the movie, her warmth and presence grounding him. She was a comforting balm to his troubled soul, someone who seemed to understand him in ways he had never thought possible. The guilt of his recent confrontation with you still lingered, but he pushed it aside for the moment, trying to focus on the joy he found in Miyo's company.
"Is everything okay?" Miyo asked softly, her voice carrying genuine concern.
Scaramouche's gaze softened as he looked at her, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yeah, everything's fine," he reassured her. "Just had to discuss something about some bills with (y/n)."
Miyo nodded, accepting his answer without pressing further. She snuggled closer against him, finding comfort in his embrace. Scaramouche couldn't help but feel lucky to have found her. She was a beautiful soul, intelligent, confident, and kind. Despite knowing the truth about his royal heritage, she treated him like any other person, never letting his status define their relationship. (Y/n) didn’t treat you any differently as well, idiot. A voice in his head spoke. He pushed it away, trying to focus on the present, on the happiness he found with Miyo. But guilt gnawed at him, wondering if he had been too harsh on you earlier. He recalled the way you looked earlier. Pale, tired, with dark circles under your eyes - you seemed unwell. Had he misjudged the situation earlier? Were you not being mean to Miyo after all? Graduation was just two months away; maybe you were genuinely occupied with work.
He couldn't shake off the concern he felt for you, his thoughts wavering between the affection he had for Miyo and the lingering emotions he had for you. Scaramouche adored Miyo; she made him feel loved and understood. Yet, a part of him couldn't forget how he treated you. The thought of someone treating Miyo the way he treated you made his chest hurt. Scaramouche's mind drifted back to a time not too long ago when you had discovered the truth about him and Miyo.
It had been a few weeks since you confessed your love, and he had turned you down, leading to a growing distance between you two. He had been avoiding you, but it became difficult to do so since the two of you shared a dorm. He had met Miyo a few weeks before your confession, and he knew he wanted to see more of her. But he couldn't do that while still entangled in a confusing "situationship" with you. That's why he had to end things, for both your sake and his own.
He was careful not to bring Miyo up after he had began dating her. He didn’t know if it was out of consideration for your emotions or out of guilt but his relationship with Miyo was a well-hidden secret from you. However, he longed for Miyo to be with him. He thought you would be at the supermarket where you part-timed, not returning until late in the night. So, he had invited Miyo over to your shared dorm, hoping to spend some time alone with her. The two of them were making out in the kitchen when you unexpectedly walked in. The shock on your face was unmistakable, as if you had just witnessed a murder. Scaramouche quickly pushed Miyo away, and she straightened herself, apologizing to you.
"I-I'm sorry," Miyo stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
You stood there, silent for a moment, before finally speaking in a barely audible voice. "What is going on?"
Scaramouche cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Miyo, this is (y/n)," he introduced you with an awkward gesture. "And (y/n), this is Miyo... my girlfriend."
The sparkle in your eyes immediately diminished as you tried to process this information. Scaramouche noticed your breaths became shallow and short as your eyes shifted between him and Miyo.
"Girlfriend..." you whispered, almost as if testing the word on your tongue.
The atmosphere in the room turned heavy as he noticed your lips quiver. Miyo knew about you, about the situationship. Scaramouche had no secrets with her. "I... I'll just go to my room," you managed to say, your voice trembling. "I... I forgot my wallet."
With that, you rushed to your room, and Scaramouche watched as you quickly reemerged, dashing out of the dorm in a hurry before he could say anything. He felt a pit forming in his stomach realizing that he had hurt you. Scaramouche knew he had to make amends somehow, but he also understood that it might be too late.
“I should head home,” Miyo speaks placing a reassuring hand on his chest. “I know you are worried about her. I am too. This wasn’t the best way for her to find out.” She sighed. “We need to give her some time and space to process this. Be nice to her, okay?”
Scaramouche nodded and kissed her softly on the lips. “You’re just amazing, you know that? To think of her even in a situation like this.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
In that moment, as Miyo placed a reassuring hand on Scaramouche's chest, he felt understood in a way he hadn't expected. Her understanding and concern for you showed him the depth of her empathy and kindness. Any doubts he had about her over you vanished away, replaced by a newfound appreciation for the woman in his arms. With her understanding and support, the uncomfortable pit that had formed in Scaramouche's stomach began to ease. He knew he could count on Miyo, not just as a girlfriend but as a true companion who would stand by him through thick and thin.
As the movie came to an end, Miyo had fallen asleep, snuggled against him. Scaramouche couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable she looked, her peaceful expression bringing a sense of calm to his heart. He placed a tender kiss on top of her head, feeling a mix of love and protectiveness toward her. Graduation season was upon them, and it had been a challenging time for all of them. He knew Miyo was working hard, juggling her studies and other responsibilities. In contrast, Scaramouche felt a sense of privilege, knowing that his path was set as a prince of Inazuma, despite his strained relationship with his mother, the queen. Graduation was supposed to mark a new beginning, a fresh chapter in their lives, but for Scaramouche, it felt more like a burden, a heavy cloak of expectations and obligations he had to carry. He couldn't help but wonder if he was truly ready for the responsibilities that awaited him as a prince. Despite his achievements and his position, there was always a sense of disappointment from his mother, the queen, which weighed heavily on him.
He knew that he had a responsibility to fulfill, but in that moment, with Miyo by his side, he felt a sense of solace. She was the one who made him feel like he could be himself, without the burden of expectations. Miyo saw him for who he truly was and accepted him, flaws and all. Scaramouche felt a deep gratitude for having her in his life, especially during times of uncertainty and pressure.
Scaramouche's senses were heightened as he heard the door to your room creak open, the sound like a haunting echo in the quiet space. You had been skittish ever since the day you discovered Scaramouche and Miyo in the kitchen, and he couldn't help but notice how seldom you were in the dorm lately. You would leave early in the morning and return late at night, prompting his concern for your well-being. He often wondered if you were getting enough sleep or if something else was troubling you.
He knew you weren't alright. Your weary appearance betrayed the emotional turmoil you were going through. Without making a sound or drawing too much attention to yourself, you walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk. Scaramouche inwardly cursed himself, realizing that he had run out of milk and had used your supply to make Miyo hot chocolate. He had planned to replace it with a new carton tomorrow, but now it seemed like a careless oversight.
Seeing you sigh and throw the empty carton away, he mumbled an apology to you, hoping to ease the tension between you. "I'm sorry about the milk," he said, his voice soft and sincere.
You looked at him, and he noticed the tear tracks on your cheeks, causing a pang of guilt to shoot through him. He tried to brush it off, attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy. "It's just milk, (y/n)," he said, attempting to downplay the situation. "No need to be so dramatic about it. I’ll buy you some more tomorrow, okay?"
But the emotions he saw in your eyes told a different story. It was clear that there was more going on beneath the surface, and he wished he could reach out to you, comfort you in some way. But the weight of Miyo sleeping on his chest kept him in place, unable to move.
You quickly wiped away your tears, your eyes becoming hollow with all the emotions pooling inside them. "It's fine," you replied in a voice that cracked slightly, trying to maintain a façade of strength.
As you hurriedly rushed back to your room, he couldn't help but notice your hand gripping your stomach. Were you hungry? He had noticed that your shelves in the fridge were bare, indicating that you might not be taking care of yourself properly. As he sat there, still holding Miyo in his arms, the weight of the situation weighed heavily on his mind. He couldn't help but feel like he had let you down, and the guilt gnawed at him. Scaramouche knew that he needed to address the situation, to find a way to talk to you and make amends, but the fear of rejection and the complexity of his feelings held him back.
Despite not being together anymore, Scaramouche couldn't help but feel a lingering fondness for you. He missed talking to you, sharing inside jokes, and having spicy meals together where he would laugh at your expense as you danced around due to the heat of the food. There was a sense of comfort and familiarity with you that he had grown accustomed to, and it frustrated him that you wouldn't accept what he offered to you – friendship. In his mind, he couldn't understand why you were so stuck on the notion of loving him and having him love you back. It was unfair to him, he felt, as he had made his intentions clear from the start. He never wanted to give you the place that Miyo now held in his heart. He wasn't sure why he couldn't reciprocate your feelings, but he knew that it wasn't something he could force. He couldn't understand why you held onto that hope, even when he had rejected you.
Maybe it was because of your uncertainty. Scaramouche couldn't help but notice that you never seemed to decide anything for yourself. Your lack of self-esteem also played a role; you didn't seem to value yourself as much as you deserved. How could you expect him to love you when you placed your worth so low? The constant arguments between you two weighed on his mind as well. They always ended with you in tears, and it left him feeling drained and frustrated. Miyo, on the other hand, brought ease and stability to his life. She was confident, knew what she wanted, and had a clear goal in life - to become a diplomat in the Inazuma court. In contrast, he couldn't help but feel that you lacked direction and purpose. You never seemed to have a plan or a clear vision for your future. It made him question whether a long-term relationship with you would have been sustainable.
While he respected your opinions and advice, he couldn't help but feel weighed down by the constant nagging. You would urge him to study harder, to work towards proving himself, even though everything seemed to be already set for him as a prince. While he complained about how disappointed his mother was with him, instead of agreeing, you would encourage him to communicate with her. It felt like you were pushing him, never letting him be by himself. It was hard to let go of the hurt and frustration, but at the same time, he couldn't help but miss the connection you once shared. He wished things could have been different, that you could have been the person you needed you to be – a friend.
Scaramouche carefully picked up Miyo in his arms, cradling her gently as he carried her to his room. He walked with soft, measured steps, mindful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. As he passed through the living room, his foot accidentally knocked over a pile of unread mail, scattering envelopes across the floor. His eyes caught sight of a particular envelope, distinct from the others. It was from Mondstadt, and it bore your name on it. The sight of it caused a pang of curiosity to stir within him, but he hesitated to pick it up. He knew that mail was private, and he shouldn't intrude into your personal space.
Without thinking much of it, Scaramouche walked towards his room, still holding Miyo in his arms. He placed her gently on the bed, making sure she was comfortable and covered with a blanket. She sighed softly, settling into a deeper slumber. Scaramouche climbed into bed beside Miyo, wrapping his arms around her as he pulled her close. He found solace in the warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her breathing. In that moment, as he lay beside her, he pushed aside the thoughts of you. He chose to focus on the present, on the love and comfort he found with Miyo.
Next
AN: my dumbass forgot to let y’all know to let me know if you want to be in a tag list for this series 😭
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ginger4sugar · 6 months
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☆彡 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 ミ★
Characters Included — Hobie Brown ( Spiderpunk ) x Reader
Gingers Notes — I miss hobie, him so fine, my man my mannnn, this actually was wrote so fast i didn’t proofread it and this isn’t the smut i was telling yall about, that’s next. Felt like blessing yall a little bit
Content Warning — Cheating, Suggestive, Reader and hobie are sickeningly good and bad for each other, that’s pretty much it, lmk if i missed anything
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What you and Hobie had were unexplainable. Roommates. Thats what you told everyone when they questioned.
But you didn’t know what you wanted. And you knew he didn’t know either. Under the same roof, same tension. Everything between you two worked so well, but uncertainty kept you two separate.
“Waddaya think?” He asked as he laid his guitar off the side, piercing quirking up with a glint as he looked up at your standing frame, your pursed lips and squinting eyes as you thought leaving him to raise a brow at your unsure stance. “It was good, lyrics are confusing though.”
They were, to anyone that lived on the other side of you two’s apartment. The general public didn’t know about what happened on the inside— but you both did. Maybe that’s all that mattered. “ ‘s not, you know ‘s not.” He scoffed, his accent dancing on his tongue as he grunted to a stand, towering over your form.
He was sure you knew every lyric, every detail, and how it resonated with him; how it resonated with you. Especially when you tilted your head at him, A ghost of a smirk on your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You’re so different.”
He didn’t say anything for a second, his ringed hand reaching and grabbing at your white tee and pulling you closer to him, chest to chest— you both could feel each others heart beat and how they synced together before his lips were close to your ear, a huff of a whisper away, “We’re so different.”
You didn’t know what he meant, but you didn’t care to ask, not when his lips were pressed against yours shortly after his statement, his fingers linking with your nimble ones. Melting into each others touch until he was dragging you to his bed. And pursuing you like you were his music— making you relish into each lyric in real time.
The rain beating against the window of his room trying its best to drown out the sounds of you succumbing to the pleasure at the hands of the musician, The streetlights peering into the room giving everything a golden sheen, two pairs of brown eyes now shimmering honey locked with each other.
That was the only memory that ran through your head as you sat in the venue listening to hobie and his band perform the song— Your song. Nobody knew it was your song, but it was. You hummed to yourself reminding yourself how he muttered lyrics against your lips as you both caught your breath.
“You like this song?” Your boyfriend asked, he didn’t know too much about you at this point. A fresh two month relationship, he didn’t know your taste of music exactly— but he was sure this wasn’t it from the music you have played for him.
Girl you do damage to me…
You stirred your drink with your straw, a soft chuckle on your glossed lips as you glanced at your boyfriend. Then at the musician on stage, who was feeding into the attention of the crowd that swooned at his music before you shrugged.
No I love it, yeah i love ya.
“It’s good, the lyrics a lil confusing tho.”
Ain’t nothing better for me now.
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vorsdany · 9 months
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ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴄᴇ
Wednesday Addams x Reader
Words : 1.3k+
Summary : You have a nightmare, Wednesday helps.
Warning (s) : mentions of death, reader killed someone lol, I’m getting worse at summaries, this is not good..
requested by anon!
ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
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∵※∵
“Yeah! Run back to where you belong, freak!” Laughter echoed in your ears, mocking, taunting your very existence as they hovered behind your shoulders. ‘My dad owns Pilgrim World.’ Yeah, right. Daddy raised a tough boy who bullied defenseless girls – outcasts, freaks. There was a reason you’d never wanted to visit the town.
And there was one reason why you’d stepped foot here today, and she was too engrossed in her investigation to notice your absence. Or the fact that you’d lost your way trying to run away instead of facing these bastards – If you could have your way, these boys would not be breathing any longer; sadly, the consequences were one you didn’t want to endure.
“Leave me alone.” You growled lowly, heat on your neck and heartbeat picking up – they stepped on the back of your shoe, and the ground met your cheek faster than you could prop your hand to soften the fall. Snickers rang from behind, proud cheers resonating in the air as the boys fist-bumped each other in triumph.
It took only half a mind to release the piled up bitterness – happened in nothing but a snap. Literally. One of them made a move to crouch over your cowering form, a shit eating grin on his face as he reached to tug at your hair. He pulled, a groan leaving your throat from the force and his body slumped to the side, eyes empty and unblinking; his neck in a weird angle that made a bile rise up your throat at the mere memory of the sight – there was no scratch over him, no evidence of your involvement in the unfortunate death.
Except for the bump on your knee and the trauma that left the rest of the boys scurrying away, you were feeling peachy. Your brightened mood as Wednesday approached and gave them another physical beating dimmed soon as her gaze settled on the dead body on the ground.
That would be hard to explain.
∵※∵
Wednesday had never meant for her plans to go this way; whatever hellhounds or hydes attacked you in your dreams, she had no way of warning you or chasing them away – she was as clueless, as helpless as a newborn hatchling, unsure and confused by the world.
She had insisted you spend time, day and night, within her peripheral after the whole ordeal – it was not ideal, to add another sleeping bag in her already packed room, yet Wednesday couldn’t care less of the limited space when you slept soundly, relief flooding your features each time your eyes found hers. It made her feel a certain kind of affection, and even though both of you had established the relationship, none was brave enough to bring up the prospect of sharing a bed.
Wednesday was grateful, as hard as it was to believe or admit to herself.
She was not prepared to sit on the floor, shoulders stiff as you leaned heavily on her, an uncertainty passing through her undead heart as you quivered under your own mind and all she could offer was her presence. You had woken up after minutes, if not hours of mumbling nonsense in your sleep, arousing Wednesday from her slumber – you were not even apologetic about it, having done it enough times to know the drill; she would ignore your ragged breathing and stared at the ceiling long enough until you were calm.
It was all you did, eyes trailed on the roof until the sun rose to the sky.
Tonight, it lasted longer. Tonight, your heart didn’t still and your eyes barely searched for her, instead squeezed shut by the mere thought of facing the darkness of the room. Wednesday didn’t know what overcame her, but her veins were pulsing, calling with the need to comfort you – she loathed the idea originally, yet.. wasn’t that expected of her? To keep you sane, just as you’d done her?
Weak, you were. Painfully so. Except, if you were, Wednesday wouldn’t have allowed you here, wouldn’t have attempted to comfort your fears and chase away your nightmares – she wouldn’t have called you hers, though it had never been out loud.
And you wouldn’t have snapped the boy’s neck with no second thought, though she must admit the mercy of a quick death was something she wouldn’t have spared him.
No, you weren’t weak. Just.. lacking extreme psychotic tendency.
Wednesday supposed that offering her hand wouldn’t be such a horrific notion, given the position she was already buried in; bodies pressed into each other, your legs almost entangled as she rested hers on top of yours. Your hands were shaking like a quake, palms clammy and uncomfortable to hold onto – yet she didn’t pull away. The seer clasped your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers and squeezed as reassuringly as Wednesday Addams could, chancing a glance at your slouched form just in time to catch your shaky breath.
You were as surprised as she was upon finding her skin brushing yours, cold and nimble fingers weaving and holding you tight; they grounded you. Whether she’d been meaning to or not, Wednesday had woken you up, relieving yourself of the images haunting your mind since two weeks ago.
“The smell of decay after death results from bacteria breaking down the amino acids ornithine and lysine.” Her voice carried a long draw, as if anticipating your reaction to hearing her thoughts; as gruesome as they were – it was her to her greatest bewilderment that you’d stopped drowning and resurfaced only by a quip from her mouth.
The friction from rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb anchored Wednesday to the earth, the motion assuring her more than it did you – the Addams shifted impossibly closer to you, embarrassingly allowing you to hide your face in her neck. She needed to remind herself it was for your benefit, your comfort, as if she would shield you from the demons while being one herself.
If someone claimed she wouldn’t, they were incredibly naïve. And clueless, stupid.
You’d always looked at Wednesday like she hung the stars, the reason the world was spinning and life was flourishing – though you’d revoked the last statement in favour of bringing deaths and bodies back to earth to purge new, miserable lives into light.
Having eyes on her back had never been her favourite; most, if not all of the owners of the stares were given the same chastisement, resulting with them backing away with their tails between their legs. Yet, she’d relished your gaze, blossomed like deadly shrooms under extreme conditions.
Wednesday would gaze at you like you hung the moon, a contrast against the darkness she radiated, a flimsy armor standing between good and completely ballistic – she’d adored that.
So, yes, she would become your shield and shelter, hold your hand like preschoolers and let your head rest above her heart. Wednesday carried on with the random gory and bloody fun facts when you gave no indication of discomfort – “The average human body is reduced to between 3 and 9 lbs of cremated remains.”
The lull of her voice was enough to make you welcome slumber for the second time that night, your breaths fanning softly against her skin and it was driving her insane.
Without her acknowledgement, she allowed her arm to drape over your shoulders, the contact sending a flurry of explosions in her stomach and chest. You had let go of her hand, leaving her palm empty and cold, missing your warmth as it rested awkwardly on your thigh – she wasn’t given the time to dwell on it much longer when you wrapped yourself around her instead, fully enveloping her with your scent and Wednesday worried there was no space left for her to breathe.
Just this once, she reasoned with herself. She’d allow it once, for your demons were loud and angry, but she was enraged.
If it happened again the next night, Wednesday would justify it with the same thought, and she definitely didn’t jump at the chance to hold you close.
She would never.
Of course, as anyone would have it, she’d do it even when there were no demons to chase away.
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daddypriceugh · 5 months
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Useless pt. 2
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Here is part 2 I hope you like it :)
@Msdevil333 inspired me
Tw: none
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It's been two weeks since you and Simon had your fight. Two weeks since you had last seen him.
Don't get me wrong he did try to talk to you. Quite often. But you never had the heart to answer the calls. The words he said are still ringing in your ears, causing your heart to break even more.
You tried to forget the whole thing by thinking that he was only stressed out from work and didn't mean it. Hell even your best friend said that he didn't.
But that lingering feeling of uncertainty is still there. What if he did mean it? Were you really useless?
You shake your head at those questions, bringing yourself back into reality. You are standing in front of the flat door. Simon's and yours flat.
The key is being crushed by your hand while you're debating on going inside or not.
You let out a sigh, deciding that you should get it over already.
"C'mon it's easy. You go in, get the presents and leave." You tell yourself.
"So easy..."
You unlock the door and step inside. To your suprise there's a delicious smell in the air. Someone is cooking.
You take slow, quiet steps into the bedroom, trying not to get caught. Just as you are halfway to your destination, Simon calls you.
You stop desd in tracks and hear him half running into your direction.
"You're back"
You spin around to meet his smiling figure. He looks good, very good. Damn.
"Yeah...just wanted to grab the rest of the presents"
His smile falters.
"Oh..."
A uncomfortable silence grows betwenn you. None knowing what to say. But then Simon breaks the silence.
"Listen, I want to apologise for what I said. I don't even know why I thought that way. You're not useless at all..."
Your mouth is dry as you listen to him. Your brain is trying to form a sentence but nothing is coming out.
"I understand that you're still mad at me. Hell I would too, but could you pleasd give me a second chance? Please I love you."
Your eyes start to water a bit.
"Simon you really hurt me. I don't know if I can forget about it"
His eyes widen at the sight of tears forming and he steps forward trying to initiate a hug.
"I don't want you to forget it, I just need you to forgive me. I can't live on knowing that I hurt the person which is the most important to me"
Not wanting to feel the upcoming pain, you hug him roughly, clinging to his sweater.
He is taken aback by it for a second but recovers quickly and wraps his arms around you. One is holding your waist and the other combing through your hair.
He gives you a light kiss on your head, breathing in your scent.
"I love you so fucking much darling, so much that it hurts. I- i don't know what was going on with me on that day but seeing you walk out on me brought me back to reality. I knew I couldn't loose you. I'd rather die."
At that statement you look up at him, seeing tears falling down his cheeks. You gently wipe them away and give him a small smile.
"I love you too Simon. I don't think that everything will go back to normal, but I'm willing to give you a second chance. Just don't take it for granted"
You jokingly his biceps at the last part, getting a slight laugh out of him.
"I would never" he says, eyes glistening with hope and happiness.
"Now would you like to have dinner with me? I made Lasagna"
"I would gladly"
At that he takes your right hand in his and interwines your fingers. He takes a last loving look at you, before taking you to the kitchen.
Little did he know that you two found each other again under a mistletoe that was hung up on the roof by him.
It's seems that Christmas really does create peace.
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@skulfan1
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houseofthxrnes · 10 months
Text
Sleep.
(Poly! Lost Boys x Female!Reader, David!centric)
for the lovely @gunnerblue21, really hope you enjoy! all credit for the gif go to owner! <3
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The nightmares, in the beginning at least, were as normal as they could be.
They were your standard, run of the mill nightmares, conjured up by a bad horror movie or your own brain trying to scare you. But these…these were different. 
They chilled you to bone, freezing your frame and trapping you in the workings of your own brain. They were about everything and nothing at the same time. They were the fear, they were the uncertainty. And you could seldom stand them. You prayed they would go away. As bad as they were, they were just night terrors.
And more often than not, they went away. 
Night went on and they never left you alone. It became so bad that you started to hate the setting sun. You hated the way everyone was preparing for bed, while you had to wallow in the shadow of your own terror. Tonight was such a night. After spending the evening at the boardwalk with the boys, you were walked home by them before they too left. Paul and Marko lingered a little longer, giving excuse after excuse to come in but you always reminded them that they needed an invitation to enter. 
Now, as you laid in your bed, sweat glistening your temple, you wished they never left. The nightmare was…strange this time. A large, white dog baring its teeth at you. You can’t run, your feet are stuck to the ground. The dog barks, begins to charge at you and as soon as it opens its jaw to bite at you, you wake up. You willed your body upwards, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Seeing no point in returning to bed, you walked to your window, opening it as slowly as you could. The thing you most enjoyed about your home was that the roof was made less steep. 
Summer nights were spent just outside your window, feeling the breeze and gazing at the endless sky above. This was your haven from the dark, a light at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel. Moving carefully, your feet met the brick of the roof and now you sat, listening to the waves. You thought of your boys and if they would find this little feature of your house as cool as you did. Comfort settled in your bones and you finally felt the tension ease, even if it was slight. 
“Can’t sleep?’’
The yelp that you let out was less than ideal. David suppressed a laugh, choosing to tease you about it later. “You scared the shit out of me.’’ You laughed. “That was not my intention, kitten.’’ The vampire defended, raising his hands in mock surrender. You cast a glance at the horizon, slightly relieved that the sunrise was far off. David plopped down next to you, his arm going around your shoulders. You laid your head on his shoulder. “Yeah…been having some bad nightmares lately.’’ You said, answering his first question. David felt it as soon as he saw you. The way your heart was going haywire and the way your skin glistened just slightly was a good enough indicator. 
“How long?”
“A few weeks or so…’’ You said, unsure of his reaction. You loved the blonde dearly but boy, was he hard to read. His face betrayed no emotion and that alone was enough to make your skin crawl. “Look i didn't tell you because I thought it would go away and I didn’t want to bother you-’’ As soon as that word left your mouth, David pressed his lips against you. It was uncharacteristically soft, with David even coming his gloved hand through your hair. You sighed contently into the kiss, pressing back passionately. David pulled away but kept his face close. “Then I’ve doing this boyfriend thing all wrong.’’ David laughed but he knew that there was so much more to this than you let on. 
“It isn’t you, any of you…I don’t know, things have just been so confusing lately.” You said. This instance was one of the things that made you really love David. While Dwayne had his own way of comforting you and Paul and Marko chose to get your mind off of it, David just let you feel.
He let you feel everything.
No emotion was too harsh, no reaction too dramatic. 
David knew that he was there to listen. David scooted closer to you, virtually leaving no space between you. “Tell me about them. These nightmares.’’ He said, though his voice let you know that he was going to get you to talk, one way or the other. You sighed, before beginning to explain the happenings and dreams that were plaguing you these past week nights. You began at the mundane and ended on the horribly real. You spoke of visions of the boys and David leaving you, of them growing bored of a human moving on to greener pastures. 
David didn’t speak. 
He wondered how long you had been feeling this way. How long these dreams were truly haunting you? David wished that he had known sooner, that he had used his…assets to see you. Guilt was something that he seldom felt, let alone about someone. David supposed that with meeting you, a lot of things changed. His brilliant blue eyes stayed on you as you spoke and his heart ached when he saw your eyes begin to tear up. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to get so worked up cuz of a stupid dream.’’ You chuckled, wipping at your eyes. “There’s nothing to apologize for, kitten.’’ David said, more seriously than he himself expected. Your eyes met once more and he placed a loving kiss on your forehead. 
“I know there isn’t much I can do to make these dreams go away, but believe me when I tell you that we would all rather die than leave you.’’ He said and by God, did he mean every word. To say that it brought you relief to hear it was understatement. You let your tears fall, as David brought you close to bury your head in his chest. Quiet sobs raked your body, huffs and sighs escaping you as David just listened. It was then that the leader realized that three other figures were standing behind you. 
Took you three long enough.
Oh get off our backs man, cleaning up a body is hard work.
Yeah! And the fucker was gushing-!
What’s wrong with her?
David and Dwayne met eyes and the blonde became ever the more thankful for his observations. You were too busy pouring your stress out to notice them yet, so David urged them to come closer. “She’s been having really bad nightmares.’’ He said. You huffed in confusion, raising your head to see Dwayne, Paul and Marko on the roof with you. “Babe, what’s wrong?’’ Paul asked, the previous conversation being completely ignored. “You look shaken up.’’ Marko added, his face lined with his wide grin. You smiled back at him, as the pads of his thumbs made quick work of your tears.
Dwayne was quiet, which you appreciated. Where Paul and Marko were fast and taunt, Dwayne was the calming presence you needed. Your (e/c) eyes met with David’s, who knew that you wanted him to explain. Your throat felt sore from the crying and you really couldn’t imagine having to repeat all of it again. David took his time in explaining, leaving out not details and comforting you at the same time. The other three would be lying if they said their hearts didn’t break at David’s words. Dwayne spoke first, his face set in a sad frown.
“Its okay, baby…we’re gonna be here a long, long time.’’ He said and you weren't sure whether he meant it in the sense that they literally couldn't die or that they would stay with you. Either way, it made your heart swell. The brunette bent down, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, you aren't getting rid of us that easy.’’ Marko laughed, taking your hand and snaking his fingers through yours. David smiled, “See, kitten? Your nightmares got us all wrong.” David said, his words dripping with promise. He meant every word and he would scream it out if that was what you wanted. 
You managed to calm after minutes of Paul and Marko’s half-assed attempts at an impromptu comedy sketch. Gently whipping at your eyes, you let a smile grace your face. That smile grew so wide that a yawn overtook it shortly there after. The boys chuckled at this, Dwayne taking to gently pry you to your feet. Now, as you laid in your bed, you felt sleep creep up. Usually, this would worry you, but with a dotting vampire on each side of you, that fear died as soon as it came. With your head laying on David’s chest, his steady beat made you feel at peace.
“Don’t leave…please…’’
“Don’t worry, kitten. We’ll be here…”
Your eyes grew heavy, sleep practically dragging you into it as David whispered:
“We’ll always be here.’’
@struggling-bee
@tea-is-at-8-pm
@willowbrookesblog
@boywivlove
@your-nightmaredoll
@gunnerblue21
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@smenny
@a-dorkier-book-keeper
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fieldofdaisiies · 8 months
Text
Like I’m Gonna Lose You
ship: Cassian x Reader type: drabble warning(s): none, self-doubt maybe word count: 1,8k words summary: Heyy idk if you're taking fuc requests but if you are can you write a cass x reader fic where they've been together a while but they're slowly drifting apart and only reader can see it and basically makes cass grovel? Idk if that made sense lmao but whatever you make of it in sure it'll be great. 
-all rights reserved -
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You sit on a lounger, high on the roof terrace of the House of Wind, the tip of your finger absently tracing over the rim of your class. From your position your have the perfect view over the whole terrace, right to the training pitch. 
Your eyes stay on Cassian, observing him silently. He is training with Azriel, their chatter and the echoes of their laughter reaching you. 
You would love to laugh along, to join in, but you are so wrapped up in your thoughts, you can't. A feeling of unease settles into your gut as you try to remember when it was the last time that you and Cassian laughed so freely. It must have been weeks, maybe months. 
Something is going on between the two of you. You don't know what it is, but it is there and it is a cold feeling. Something that makes a small crack appear in your heart. But this crack threatens to increase with each passing day.  
As you watch them sparr, a pang of distance tugs at your soul. Not only is your heart aching, but also the bridge between your souls. The bond. 
Your gaze stays on Cassian, focusing on how he elegantly glides over the pitch. He still is, without doubt, the most beautiful male in the the world. The one you fell in love with, the one you gave your heart and soul to and then one you would choose over and over again. 
But there are these questions, that fill in your mind, doubts gnawing at you. Are you both growing apart? Is your once unbreakable bond becoming fragile all of sudden? Is this bond not meant forever? Was it never meant forever? In the past weeks Cassian has spent so much time with Az and Rhys, and you would never blame him for it. They are his brothers and he loves them. But you are here as well, and it seems like you are not at all important to him anymore. 
Cassian lands a blow, and you try to cheer him on, to be supportive, but a cool feeling overcomes you when your cheering is met with ignorance. Maybe he hasn't noticed you?
But Azriel has noticed you, so how would Cassian not?
It's as if you are an outsider, observing a something that you are no longer part of. And that makes you incredibly sad. 
You take a sip from your glass, and then place it down on the ground next to you before you lean back on the lounger and close your eyes. There is this bitter taste at the back of your mouth, your throat burning a little as your eyes start to water. What if his distance really means that he no longer wants to be with you?
You are yearning for the closeness you once had, the dreams and hopes you kept talking about. The future you had planned with Cassian. He is your mate, his your love and your life. Since the day the bond snapped you have never imagined to live a day without him. But this might all be coming to an end now…
As you lie there on the lounger, you feel the widening space between your souls, the ache of drifting apart. The joy that once has been brightly glowing between your souls, the passion and the love, it seems like it has vanished. 
Tidal waves of sadness pull you into a sea of doubt and uncertainty. You squeeze your eyes tighter shit, wanting to drown out everything around you. And in the midst of it all, you only hope that you will find a way back to each other's hearts, making the bond stronger again. 
Sadness engulfs you, like a huge cloud that dims the sun and robs you of your happiness. It slings around you, and grips your tightly. 
You bit down on your lower lip, hoping to stop the tears before they can leave your eyes. You don't want to cry. Not yet. Not if maybe there can be a solution found for it all. You don't want to think about all the negative outcomes of this now — it is too soon, maybe things can go into a different direction…Maybe, just maybe. 
A sudden touch on your knee startles you and you jerk up, eyes snapping open.
"No longer enjoying watching us spar?" Cassian asks with a smile on his face, his thumb brushing over your knee. 
Tension of unspoken issues radiate between you two, and although Cassian tries to be his normal, casual self he can feel it as well. 
You sit up, breathe in and move your hand over his. "I think we need to talk, Cassian."
Not Cass. Not my love. Not my mate. No — Cassian. It lands a blow to the general's gut and heart and he slowly dips his chin, nodding. "Yes, I think we do."
You gaze is cast downward, avoiding direct eye contact with your mate while you fiddle with your fingers. No one is talking as you on your bed, the door to your shared bedroom closed. The atmosphere is not bad, but somehow so very cold and tense. 
You take a deep breath, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I feel there is a distance between us that has not always been there, like we're drifting apart."
You pull on a piece of skin on the side of your nail, eyes still not meeting his. "You've been spending so much time with other people lately. So much more time with them than with me. It has not always been like that, Cassian. I feel like there is something happening between us and I don't know what it is."
Cassian sighs loudly, feeling a pang of guilt, as he knows exactly that you are right. But there has just been so much to discuss, to organise, in the war camps, concerning the possible threat of Koschei, just everything. His defensive walls rise instinctively, knowing it is not entirely his fault that you have been spending so little time together lately. "I just had to do many things, take care of many things and organise them. It's not like I don't want to be with you."
"But that's the thing," you say, your voice tinged with frustration. "I thought we were a team, like you could include me in those things. I am your mate, your wife, your partner in everything. Lately, it doesn't feel like this at all anymore. It feels like I am going to lose you, Cassian."
The general of the Night Court armies looks away, struggling to find the right words. A shiver runs down his spine and cold spreads out inside of him, settling in his heart. "It was not intentional. I never meant to make you feel that way. I did not want to put unnecessary pressure on you." 
You lift your head and shake it, finally meeting his gaze. "That is bullshit, we are team, Cassian. I t has always been the two of us — the two of us against the world."
"And it still is." Cassian's expression is pained as he keeps his gaze locked with you, reaching over but you pull your hand away.
"I am not sure about that anymore." "Y/N." His voice sounds like he is pleading. "Please, don't do this now." "Do what?" you snap, suddenly feeling like he is accusing you of something. Like you are the bad guy for addressing the issue your relationship is currently facing.
"Making this difficult." "I am not making anything difficult, Cassian." You shake your head vehemently. "I don't want us to drift further apart. We used to be so close, but now it feels like we're just two strangers living under the same roof. I want you as my mate, fully and completely, or not at all."
Cassian swallows thickly. The realisation of what you said hits him like a slap. He knows he has messed up with no longer including you. But he really just wanted to spare you all the problems and issues he is currently facing in Illyria. "You're right," he finally admits, his voice softer now, tinged with remorse. "I've been occupied a lot, did not include you in my things and decisions, and I'm sorry. I don't want us to drift apart either. I am sorry, my love."
Tears well in your eyes as you look at him, and draw in a deep inhale. My love. 
"I will include you from now on, I will tell you things again. I just did not want to bother you with it all."
"Cassian, I am your mate. You don't bother me with these things." 
He lowers his head, chin nearly meeting his chest, his shoulders lifting in sad shrug. "I know. But I overheard you talking to Feyre, saying you are worried about everything that is to come. I did not want to put my worries on your plate as well…" 
This time it is you who reaches over, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand. 
"You should have talked to me."
"I know." He huffs and lifts his head to look into your eyes. "I promise that from now on, I'll make more time for us and that I will share everything with you. You're the most important person in my life and I don't want to lose you. And I want you to be included in everything. You have to know that."
And you technically do, it has just changed in the past weeks. You nod slowly, but Cassian is not convinced. He flips his hand over and squeezes yours. "Please, Y/N. Please, forgive me and tell me that we can soon return to how close we were."
Some of the clouds and storm of your relationship clears and smile a little. "Yes, Cassian. We need to work on it…so that our relationship gets better again, but we will get there."
His arms slings around your shoulder and he pulls you to him, kissing the top of your head. "Yes, we will. Please, never forget how much I love you."
You can confront the issue together, the problems that caused the issues for the relationship, you just have to talk, just communicate and it will get better again. You love your mate so much, you love this bond so much, it will get better again, you know it. 
You relish in his scent, his warmth, the hard press of his chest against the side of your body as you lean into him, your eyes closing. It feels so familiar, so good, and you have been longing for his touch and this closeness for so long. It has felt like torture, but hopefully you are on a good way now to heal your relationship.
"I love you too, Cass."
~~~~~~~ tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan @burningsnowleopard @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop
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cosmicjoke · 3 months
Text
Armin's Role in Levi's Choice, and the Threat of Erwin's Corruption and Mental Degradation:
Alright, boys and girls, I'm going into this again, because I want to focus specifically on an aspect of Levi's choice in Shinganshina which, sadly, I'm reminded over and over again by people, is widely misunderstood or flatly ignored, and that's both Armin's pivotal role in Levi choosing as he did, and also, Erwin's own impending mental and moral collapse.
People often accuse Levi of letting his personal feelings for Erwin get in the way of making the "right" choice that day in Shinganshina, and they support this claim by making the further claim that Levi hampered humanity's chances for victory by letting Erwin die, Erwin being the great leader that he was, etc, etc... This view is shared, not unironically, I think, by everybody's favorite AoT character, Floch, who we know is a bastion of human empathy and understanding (insert sarcasm here). Because if we should believe anybody about what was really motivating Levi that day, it should be Floch, (insert further sarcasm). But I say no to these accusations, because they're undeniably refuted by what transpires in the panels of the manga itself.
Now, lets look at these panels, because we're going to analyze and break this down:
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Erwin admits to Levi here that seeing what's in Eren's basement, "learning the truth about this world", as he says, is more important to him than humanity's victory. And Levi's response to that is to say "Fine. Erwin, I'll trust your judgment.". Meaning that he's trusting Erwin still to do the right thing, to make the right choice, and should things go south on them, and humanity's victory is compromised by Erwin's judgement-call, then the responsibility for that will be on Erwin and Erwin alone. Levi is both reaffirming his trust in Erwin as a leader, while also acknowledging that Erwin is suddenly, uncharacteristically, threatening to compromise the mission of the Survey Corps for selfish gain. Something which goes against every belief Levi has ever held about Erwin as a leader and a man. Levi's anger and frustration is rooted in that shaking of foundation, in the uncertainty that he now has to confront about Erwin's fitness as a leader.
What's important to remember about Erwin and this moment, is that it isn't the first instance in which he's prioritized his own, personal dream above humanity's victory. He did so as well when he orchestrated the military coup, overthrowing the nobility. Erwin admits this to Zackely, when he confesses that he isn't sure if overthrowing the nobility was really the best move for humanity, and we start to see the first cracks in Erwin's otherwise impenetrable armor.
His insistence, here, that he'll be going on the mission to Shinganshina, is the second instance in which he's placing his own, personal dream above humanity's victory.
Where before Erwin had never once compromised the SC mission for his personal dream, he's now done so twice, in short succession.
Levi, before this, had spoken with Kenny about dreams, and dreams ability to corrupt and compromise us as human beings. And we're seeing that in action here with Erwin. His dream has begun to corrupt him.
But Levi doesn't realize yet how deeply the corruption in Erwin has begun to take root. Hasn't, in fact, yet accepted that corruption in Erwin at all. He's beginning to suspect it, but he still believes in Erwin as a leader. He still trusts his judgment, as he says. He's still deferring to Erwin's judgment over his own instincts.
And Levi won't realize how deep the corruption in Erwin goes, and won't accept it, until the pivotal moment of decision, up on the roof in Shinganshina.
Now let's talk about these panels, because these are vital in understanding what Levi decides next.
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The juxtaposition here of Erwin, Armin and Kenny means everything.
Levi remembers asking Erwin what happens next, once he discovers what's in Eren's basement, and Erwin admits that he doesn't know. All he knows is that he wants desperately to see what's in that basement, and after that, he has no idea. There's no grand plan, no further motivation, no vision for the future of humanity.
Then Levi recalls Kenny's words about dreams, "they couldn't keep going unless they were drunk on something", and this memory is followed by Levi's looking over at Armin's charred body, with Kenny's words ringing in his head "They were all slaves to something. Even him.". We then see Erwin's hand lift up, symbolically smacking the serum away from his arm, and he begins to ramble incoherently, lost in a memory of asking his father how he knows humanity doesn't exist beyond the walls.
It's in THIS moment that Levi realizes that Erwin hasn't been released from the grip of his dream. In his delirious, dying state, it's exposed as the thing that still drives Erwin forward, the thing that still matters to him most. His dream still has him shackled. His dream is still corrupting him.
Again, we've already seen this corruption begin to take root and manifest in Erwin making decisions which directly compromise and endanger humanity's victory, first in orchestrating the military coup, and then in insisting on being in Shinganshina himself.
Levi recalling Kenny's specific words "They were all slaves to something. Even him." is him realizing that Erwin is a slave to his dream. That he can't and won't be able to let it go. He recalls having to order Erwin to do so, to "give up on your dreams and die for us", and then Erwin thanking him for that. He realizes Erwin thanked him because Erwin knew he wouldn't have been able to make that right choice on his own. He realizes that if he hadn't made the choice for Erwin, Erwin wouldn't have been able to give up on his dream. Instead, he would have given in to the corrupting force of his dream, and chosen it over humanity. Just like he did the night before, when he refused to back down from his insistence that he accompany the mission. When he refused Levi's request for him to stay behind.
Levi realizes that Erwin has already been corrupted by his dream. And he realizes that once that dream is realized, Erwin will no longer have anything left to motivate him forward, nothing to be drunk on to keep him from the further degradation and corruption of his mind. He'll no longer be the great leader and visionary he'd once been. He'll be a husk of himself, ruined by the selfishness of his dream, and the guilt he carried as a consequence. Eaten alive by his own demons.
We see this in direct contrast to Armin's burned body, and Levi's memory of his hopeful and innocent eyes from the night before, talking about his own dream of seeing the ocean.
This contrast is majorly important in understanding why Levi ultimately chooses to give the serum to Armin and not Erwin.
Because unlike Erwin, Armin WAS able to give up on his dream and die for humanity. He didn't need anyone to make that choice for him. He made that choice by himself. He willingly sacrificed his life for humanity, and willingly accepted that he would never get to see the ocean, content with the hope that Eren would get to see it in his stead.
Levi realizes, in that moment, that unlike Erwin, Armin hasn't been corrupted by his dream. It wasn't the only thing driving him forward. He wasn't "drunk" on it. He could give up on it for the sake of everyone else. He could sacrifice it.
And that plays a major role in why Levi chose as he did.
It wasn't a case of him prioritizing Erwin over humanity. It was a case of understanding that Erwin's sacrifice, in the end, wasn't self-motivated, and that his dream still controlled him, and would continue to control him, and that truth wouldn't change when he finally realized his dream, but simply leave him bereft, with nothing to shield him from the crushing guilt which had begun to seep in with the realization of his own selfishness, his increasing willingness to prioritize his dream over humanity.
It was a case of Levi realizing that Armin's ability to give up on his dream was also a marker of that's dreams purity, and Armin's own innocence and lack of corruption as a person.
It was a case of Levi realizing that where it was already too late for Erwin to escape that fate Kenny had talked about, it wasn't so for Armin. He reiterates this later on, when he talks about choosing Armin because he "had the same look in his eyes as all of you", meaning his comrades at the beginning of all of it, before they'd been beaten down and ruined by the ugliness of war and dreams.
It was as much that lack of corruption in Armin that made Levi's choice for him, as it was the corruption which had taken root in and begun to eat away at Erwin.
In order for all of their sacrifices to have been worth it, as Levi later says, it would have to have been for an absurdly idealistic world. What that means is, it would have to be for a dream that was pure and without corruption. That's the only thing that would make all of their sacrifices worth it in the end.
And Armin's dream was pure and without corruption.
The very thing they were fighting for was the purity that Levi saw in Armin. Very literally and figuratively, Armin encapsulated the ideal the members of the Survey Corps had given up their lives for. That absurdly idealistic world. A world of freedom and free will and choice.
To choose Erwin would have been a betrayal of that ideal, because Erwin was a slave to his dream. He'd become the very thing the Survey Corps was fighting against. Enslavement.
Armin was a slave to nothing. To choose him was to prove the worth of every fallen soldiers sacrifice. To choose him was to realize the dream they'd all died for.
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