#I worked hours on this and I'm on the verge of death. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The KCSC sent more than 20K requests to delete posts related to prostitution and porn to Tumblr from January to June 2017.

#I worked hours on this and I'm on the verge of death.

patchesproblem · 1 year

Text

Several hours later and I have finally finished this hellish thing. Welcome to the hell of my own creation.

Anyways I'm back with more lesbian scientists being smart yet incredibly stupid. This time with how they got together. Kinda angsty but not really?? Idk it's just sad for a part because they both want to disappear.

AO3 Link : Click Here

---------

December 12th, 19XX

It's certainly been awhile since I have used you, old friend. I hope you don't mind me coming to you for help once again. Things have been troubling me lately, and I do not feel comfortable discussing it with anyone, including Tesla.

Dr. Tesla has been away for around six hours, though it would be more accurately described as days. Work has kept her extremely busy and exhausted. As a result, there have barely been any moments where we have talked with each other than a quick 'goodbye' or 'goodnight' if we lay down at the same time...

---------

Einstein sat silently at her desk. A journal was laid there, waiting for her to open it. Years worth of wear and tear were obvious. What it was originally supposed to look like had long since been muddied, leaving zero trace of its life before. Only thing remaining was her name on the inside of the cover, an old message from Karl, along with various entries she'd written over the years.

She stared at the cover with sadness. It was one of the few things she took before leaving Lab 42 that fateful night, with faint memories of that day still lingering with it. Carefully turning the pages she glanced over several old passages, ranging from when she was a child all the way up until she met Tesla.

Glancing over one of the last entries she let out a soft laugh.

'This girl, Nikola I think her name was, has absolutely zero regard for her own safety. I'm truthfully surprised that she has made it this far without getting into serious trouble, or worse. I worry for anyone paired up with her within the coming weeks.'

Sometimes the way things change, yet stay the same, amazes her.

---------

I never thought I'd be forced to admit it, but I miss her deeply. Life has never felt so dull without her constant presence. Her energetic and eccentric personality that once kept me on my toes has been reduced to a shell of it's former self. It feels as if she's almost never home anymore.

These past few weeks have forced me to acknowledge things I once believed I would never have to face.

I believed I would be able to push all of this down and never think of it again. Things would be better that way, however I now realize the true reason for it was fear and denial...

---------

Flipping through eventually led her to the last entry before the pages went blank.

'Professor Planck insisted that I work with Nikola. We had not started working for five minutes before she called me 'mophead'. I should be offended, though I'm not sure I mind it. There's something about her that I can't quite figure out. One thing for certain is she's incredibly talented at what she does. Perhaps this could turn out better than I originally anticipated. That is if she doesn't get herself, or me, killed first.'

A chuckle escaped, "Nikola you really are the same girl I fell in love with all those years ago."

Turning to a new page she just began staring at it. An anxious feeling over whelmed her, and she debated whether this was a good idea. After a minute, and some hesitation, she reached for her pen.

Something had been bothering her for days, though if she were honest it was had been bothering her for years. Feelings that were pushed down in an attempt to continue the status quo. They wanted to desperately come out, and it was eating her alive and distracting her.

It led to her looking for this journal. After digging through her nightstand for it, she brought it into their office.

---------

Fear of losing everything we've worked hard for over the years. All of the sacrifices we've made over the years, the countless people who sacrificed themselves to help move forward, the sleepless nights we've had, all of it.

Most of all, I'm afraid of losing her. The fear of losing her, not knowing what she'd say or do afterwards, it's worse than the fear of Anti-Entropy falling apart at it's seams. Without her none of it matters. There's not an Anti-Entropy without her.

Tesla has been one of the only people who has been there since the beginning. All of the memories we made together, the mischief we got up to, all of it. Even after everything that's happened we are still by each others side. Throughout all the arguments, frustration trying to figure out where to go next, none of it was able to pull us away.

As pathetic as it is to say, she's the reason I keep going forward. Every time she starts going on about a new interest, a new idea for an experiment, her wanting to spend time together, even her questionable temper, all of it reminds me why we're still here and why we need to continue forward.

Why I'm still here. Why I need to continue going...

---------

She began writing. Although it would look like nothing but mathematical nonsense for an experiment, to her and Tesla it made complete sense. They had originally created it to pass notes back and forth undetected, which eventually resulted in them using it to talk with each other in front of others without them knowing.

Ultimately she did this in an attempt to make others not understand it, and assume she simply needed scratch paper should it be found. As for Tesla, she was already aware of her journal and knew she hadn't used it in years. If she put it back before she got home there was a high chance she'd never even know. Besides that, they promised each other not to lie to the other and keep secrets.

They both were aware of the irony of their promises to each other.

Starting was a struggle. Embarrassment, confusion, all of it made it difficult to get a word down.

---------

Every moment we've spent together will forever stick with me. Even the times where everything backfired. The moments where we just sat there staring at the sky. The mischief we caused around Schicksal, recruiting Joachim to play pranks on others. I'll cherish these forever.

Even the moments when we were both tired and exhausted. The several times she's come home and just fallen asleep on me while I worked. Having to remind her to eat after procrastinating until the last possible second and locking herself up in our office. Her having to snap me out of it whenever I do the exact same thing.

Staying up all night talking and joking with each other, discussing plans for when we were off, brushing her hair after she gets so frustrated I worry for the brush's well being, they seem so menial in the grand scheme of things but they're what's most important to me...

---------

After an hour, Tesla opened the front door. She glanced around noticing how quiet it was. Slightly frowning, she threw her purse on a table and went towards their room. Not in here.

"Maybe she's working," she mumbled walking towards their office. Glancing around the corner she saw the girls blue disaster she called her hair. She stood in the doorway for a second. After a minute of either Einstein not noticing her, or just ignoring her again, Tesla walked in and pulled her chair next to her.

Sitting down, she laid her head on her shoulder closing her eyes, "Hey mophead."

"Hey, Tes," the girl responded, fear running through her mind as she debated what to do. "Work go okay?"

The girl next to her angrily made a noise before mumbling, "Every day god keeps testing my patience I get closer and closer to killing someone."

Einstein chuckled, patting her on her head. "On the bright side we're off for the next few days, maybe god will have mercy on your nonexistent patience."

Annoyed mumbling was barely audible. She smiled softly, just staring at the ball of anger and annoyance laying on her.

After a few minutes of silence Tes raised her head. "What are you even doing in here-" pausing to fix her glasses, "-you're normally getting ready for bed by now."

Einstein began reaching for the notebook, "I was reading earlier and wanted to jot down some notes to pass the time. It is quite boring here while you're gone."

She seemed to accept the answer, looking down towards the book curiously. Glancing over the pages, she began yawning. "Eins, are you almost ready to go to be-"

Einstein glanced over at her, confused as to why she went silent.

---------

I doubt I will ever bring any of this up to her, whether it be out of cowardice or fear.

Logically, considering our circumstances and past experiences, there's around a 95% chance that nothing bad will happen. However, that five percent risk is not worth it to me.

We almost complete each other in a strange sense. Complementing each others personalities in a way I can not describe.

I truly love and admire her. If I have to live for the rest of eternity there's nobody else I'd rather have by my side..

---------

The redhead stayed silent, unable to process what she was reading. It was at that moment Einstein realized how she might've just fucked up. Neither spoke.

Eventually Tesla looked at her, barely able to even make eye contact. Words struggled to even come out. "Li-li-liserel I.. we need to talk."

"Tesla I-" Before she could say anything the other girl had already ran out, nearly tripping over herself.

She stared out the empty door. Her chest hurt, she blinked tears away trying to calm down.

'Dear Lieserl,

Although I am aware you don't believe in running off of emotions, there are certain situations that can not be solved through physics or logic. That's part of the reason I am gifting you this before I go back to Berlin.

You're probably annoyed reading this, and thinking 'This old man sounds like those psychologists,' but life's not always black and white. I trust that Emma will take care of you, though she can be overbearing at times. However, if things ever become to much for you to handle and you feel alone, try to write it all down within here. It sounds silly, but sometimes putting your feelings out there will help you figure out a solution to things. You may not understand this now, however I believe over time when you begin to meet more people and gain experiences you will understand.

Whenever I return we can sit down and discuss it together. Treat this as your way of talking to me and remembering important details you want to share.

I'm unsure of when I'll be able to return, but I will certainly try to make it soon. I'm extremely proud of you, and I can't wait to see what you end up accomplishing in your life.

PS. If you ever have a moment I would love it if you could send me letters about how you're progressing in your studies. Tell Emma I said hi for me as well.

From the 'slightly less annoying old man,'

Karl.'

Thirty minutes had passed with Einstein pacing laps around their office. Thoughts raced through her mind, and she dreaded leaving their office to find her.

'How am I supposed to face her. Is this the end.'

Tears streamed down her face, all she wanted to do was disappear into thin air.

---------

Tesla was sat in their room, holding the picture from her nightstand. Her mind was racing, confusion, embarrassment, fear, and exhaustion all came together to make her over think and panic.

Stress from the situation caused her to zone out, not even acknowledging nor noticing anything else around her.

Einstein eventually forced herself to leave their office, if only because she was worried about Tes. Wiping her face, she took a deep breathe and looked around the corner to see her sat on their bed. Her hair was a mess, and it had been clear she'd been crying.

Hesitantly she began walking towards the end of the bed and sat down, the other girl never even noticing her there. Reaching over, she tapped her shoulder causing her to jump.

"Tesla I'm so sorry for scaring you.. I" She paused, unable to look at her as she stared at her silently. "Nikola I'm sorry, I never expected you to see any of that and I.."

Interrupting her, the girl forced herself to speak. "Please stop talking you dumbass.."

Caught off guard, she sat silent for a minute. Eventually, Einstein stood up, "I'm sorry.. Look, I'll go stay with Joa-"

"That's not what I meant, Einstein. Stay here Lieserl.." it went silent, until she barely whispered "please.."

For once Einstein was the one left confused on what the other was thinking. Her facial expression couldn't be read like normal, though it was partly because strands of hair had covered some of it.

"We need to talk about this... We should've had this conversation years ago." She sat the picture of the two back beside her, looking at the other girl.

She sat back down, anxiously messing with her jacket. "Tes how much of that did you see.."

"All of it.." she said softly.

"I should've told you this a long time ago, Tes."

They sat silently, unsure of where to go from there.

"Look Tes, I've loved you for a long time. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't feel like this-"

"Are you stupid, mophead.. Why are you sorry." she paused, looking down embarrassed, about to cry, and mumbled "I've felt the same for a long time.. I never expected you actually felt the same."

Einstein sat there, unsure of what to say. "What does this mean then.."

".. I don't know."

"Well.." standing up she walked to Tesla and held her hand out, awkwardly. ".. Will you be my girlfriend, Tes?"

Tesla hesitated before reaching out for her hand, "And you say I'm bad at social interactions.. Here you are making things awkward."

"This is different, you can't even order at a drive through without becoming an awkward mess."

"I hate you."

Einstein chuckled, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes."

The girl bent over and kissed the other on her forehead, before letting go and standing back up. "Go get ready for bed, we should've been asleep over an hour ago. I'm tired." She said casually.

“You’re the reason we’re still up. You better let me sleep in tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, we already had plans remember.” She teased, tapping her nose, “You promised me you’d let me drag you out of the lab and go look at the museums tomorrow.”

“Is it too late to break up.” Tesla said smiling and rolling her eyes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Tes.”

---------

December 15th, 19XX

Although I ultimately regret how everything happened, I am glad it happened. We're happier than we've been in years, and it shows. Life seems brighter than before.

Joachim is scared that we've lost our sanity. While he is partially correct, I'm more likely to believe Tesla's excitement and joy has scared him. We haven't mentioned it to him or anyone else as of now. We won't hide it, but it doesn't matter to us whether or not people know.

I don't know what the future holds, what I do know is that we'll get through whatever it has in store for us.

~ Lieserl Albert Einstein

#tesla #einstein #einsla #honkai impact 3rd #fanfic #patches rambles #I worked hours on this and I'm on the verge of death.#2022 posts #nikolas posts

5 notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 6 months

Note

Hear me out! How about Mafia Steve rogers having hate sex with reader because they were having an argument and reader had attitude. He fucks her like i need to dicipline you, you little brat and she is calling him daddy.

I'm Bored! // Mafia!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you for the request! ♥ I hope you like this!

Side Note: This isn't a part of the mafia!stucky universe, just wanted to clarify that lol

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, spanking, ripping clothes, degradation, praise kink, size kink (!), desk sex, creampie, edging, overstimulation, daddy kink, pretty behaviour, slight misogyny/stereotypes, hairpulling, fingering, exhibitionism, slight subspace

Words: 2.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“I know what you’re doing”. Steve slammed his phone onto the desk as his nostrils flared, eyes glaring with an intensity that any sane person would have backed away with their head lowered in submission.

It seemed you had a death wish today as you smirked and continued to piss him off, wanting the exact reaction you were receiving from your Mafia boyfriend. Stomping your foot and clenching your fists, you continued in a shrill, high-pitched tone for an added effect that you knew would drive him into the depths of mental hell. ”I’m not doing anything! I just feel so trapped in this stupid box of an office!”

As you so politely described, this stupid box of an office was an executive suite in one of the skyscrapers that towered over Brooklyn that he could view from the ceiling-to-floor windows. The office had to be the biggest in the building, with enough space for his desk, sitting area, kitchen and a vastly sized table to fit at least 15 people for meetings specified for the mafia boss.

And yet, here you were, moaning about the size, knowing that there was nothing more extravagant or luxurious than his office. In your defence, it had been a long day of being out of the office, as Steve had to travel for hours across his city to check the quality of stolen goods and meet with many influential people with the hopes of selling said stolen items. It hadn’t been a particularly trying day for the most part, but you quickly became bored, especially as you had to remain quiet during these meetings.

From an outsider's perspective, you were meant to be the pretty timid girlfriend of the mafia boss. His eye candy. There to hang on his arm and warm his lap and nothing more. In reality, he had wanted you there so that you could be more involved in the gang, understand how the meetings work, and contribute to decisions once back to the office if you deemed the people trustworthy enough to work with.

The staying quiet aspect of your role was also just for your safety. If you talked, that was an open invitation for the powerful individuals to talk back, and you weren’t ready to be involved in those sorts of conversations just yet. Therefore, you were more than happy to remain Steve's silent, pretty girlfriend.

Today, however, you were feeling antsy from the lack of talking, stiff from sitting for so long and needy for something a little more exciting than hand-holding or sitting on his lap. Especially now you were in the comfort of the office and could really rile Steve up. Maybe you were being a brat, but you were so bored and frustrated you wanted to get your heart pounding and some sort of relief, so pissing Steve off was the best option for this.

“Stop trying to take your clothes off-! Fucks sake. Everyone out!” Steve ordered the guards stationed by the door, and they promptly followed his directions as they left with a slam of the door.

You pause, with one of the straps of your dress halfway down your arm, turning to face him directly with a wicked smile on your face. Oh, he was pissed, verging on genuinely being angry with the way the vein on his neck was bulging and throbbing.

“I hate when you get like this. We were having a nice fucking day, too”, he demands whilst beginning to remove his tie and jacket. You knew he didn’t mean it; he always loved being able to dominate you just as much as you loved being an irritating brat and getting on his last nerve.

Your cunt pulses in desire watching him closely, eyes blazing with excitement as you bite your lower lip to try and hide the unmistakable grin. “Was it a nice day for me or for you, Steve? Because it’s been a boring day for me. All I’ve been doing for hours is standing there and looking pretty. Do you know how boring that is? I want to live a little! My clothes feel too tight, too claustrophobic. I want to be free!”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he does glare as he begins to undo the cuffs of his white shirt, rolling up the sleeves to reveal the muscular forearms beneath. It was only as he rounded his desk that you began to back up, taking a quick step backwards, but they were no match to the giant strides of his long legs as he was in front of you in a matter of seconds. His chest bumped into yours, forcing you to continue backwards until your back was flush against the cool glass windows.

Steve towered above you, even with your black heels adding a few inches to your height; he always seemed to be a gargantuan man, adding warmth to your core. Looking up at his glaring face through your lashes and biting your lip, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Think you’re being cute by acting like this? Like a brat with all that attitude?” he snaps, reaching up to wrap his massive hand around your throat, not squeezing as such but just so that you stayed still and he could feel the thump of your racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

“I think I’ve got the response that I wanted, so yes, I think I am being cute”, you say confidently whilst reaching for the bulge in his slacks to show just how turned on he was, squeezing it tightly and making it throb.

Steve’s eyes drop to your hand as he subtly thrusts into your palm, but as he looks back towards your face, you know he has something planned as it is his turn to smirk. “You said your clothes felt tight. Well, let’s change that Princess”.

The hand around your neck lowers to your hip, turning you around so your front is pressed against the window, forced to look out over the city of Brooklyn. Before you could even look over your shoulder to see what was next, your body was shaken as Steve gripped the left and right side of your dress and pulled, effortlessly ripping the red dress down the zip so it fell from your body. You were left in only your thong and heels, wholly exposed to the city below.

Steve’s hand is then suddenly in your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder and forcing your chest to push up, your nipples perking from being pressed against the startingly cold glass.

“Does this make you feel any more free? You know I love it when people watch me touch you. Well, now we’ve got the whole city watching Princess”, Steve whispers as he runs his nose down your neck.

You shiver as he nudges the sensitive spot just below your ear, “Yes, Steve-”.

The hand in your hair tightens, “Excuse me?”

“Daddy”, you correct yourself quickly, “Yes, Daddy, thank you for making me feel more free and showing me off to everyone”.

He hums to himself, “I think it’s about time I should how to be more grateful and show a little less of this attitude you seem to have”.

“Yes, Daddy”, you say submissively, mind reeling with the anticipation and thrill of what's to come.

“Count for me and safe words to be used if needed”, he mentioned before continuing.

With one hair remaining in your hair, he presses your face against the window, not hard enough for it to hurt but also to make sure that you keep it in place. His other hand pulled back on your hips, perking your arse out for him. You were only vaguely aware of his plan as you heard the swatting of his hand through the air before the stinging impact as he spanked your arse cheek.

You jumped at the contact, but he always started light, not wishing to actually cause you harm and so that you could make it through the usual ten counts before checking in.

“One, thank you, Daddy”, you say sweetly, watching the glass in front of you fog up at your heated breath. With each spank, you made sure to count and thank him. Even though you’d been a brat, when he finally did snap like he was now, you were always on your best behaviour, taking whatever punishment he deemed necessary.

His palm connected with both of your cheeks, ensuring they both had equal attention and that the areas were hot to the touch and somewhat sore but not enough to bruise. You enjoyed the rough treatment so much that you were rolling your hips into his palm, feeling the wetness coating your thong and spreading over your labia.

“Ten, thank you, Daddy”, you softly say, your eyes closed and feeling the world becoming fuzzy around the edges as the mixture of pleasure and pain caused the hormones in your head to feel like you were experiencing your own personal high.

This was the reason why you always enjoyed pissing him off with a little bit of attitude and bratty behaviour; being drawn into a subspace mentally from the punishments was like a drug to you, one that Steve was more than happy to pull you into.

Overwhelming pleasure suddenly burst through your burning core as Steve pulled your thong string to the side and shoved two thick digits into your pussy, stretching you thoroughly.

“You’re so wet, such a desperate little slut aren’t you” he taunts whilst rocking his fingers in and out, stretching them every so often to prepare you for what you really want.

You stick out your bottom lip in a pout whilst rolling your hips in time with his fingers as you whine, “Only your slut though, Daddy”.

Steve kisses your naked shoulder, showing some sort of soft intimacy, “That’s right, you’re just my little slut. Now how about you show me just how good you are for me and go and bend over my desk and spread your legs”.

The hand in your hair loosens enough that you can wiggle free and stumble over to the desk, kicking off the heels as if they were not helping the wobbly sensations in your legs. Steve was one step behind and reached around you to shove the papers cluttering his desk off and onto the floor. With the extra space, you could happily bend forward, resting your chest on the desk and widening your stance as Steve begins to unbuckle his belt.

Watching over your shoulder, you admired the lustful gaze of his bright ocean-blue eyes, the drag of his tongue along his bottom lip as he looked as if he wanted to eat you right then and there.

“Do you like what you see?” you asked whilst wiggling your hips invitingly to him.

Steve tries and fails to hide the smirk on his face. Reaching forward, he rubs with each of your arse cheeks, squeezing the sore areas until your mewling and begging for something more. As he stepped closer and continued to hold the string of your thong to the side, he looked you directly in the eyes as he spoke lowly, “I just want you to remember that you wanted me to get this riled up with that smart mouth of yours. Acting bratty has its consequences”.

Opening your mouth to try and sass him another way, all that came out was an exaggeratedly obscene moan, your eyes rolling back as Steve’s cock thrust deep within your cunt in one mighty thrust. The movement caused you to rock onto your tiptoes, having to push further onto the desk as the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, filling you completely. The warm, wet walls of your pussy fluttered and squeezed around the penetration, trying to milk him already, clinging to him within an inch of your life.

Your fingers wrap around the edge of the desk above your head, holding on to it as Steve withdraws. Half of the length inside of you retreated, only to slam back into you, causing your hips to bump into the table with the strength put behind the movement.

“Faster”, you demand as your forehead rests on the rest, eyes closing to focus on the overwhelming pressure in your core.

However, the sassy tone you used was not appreciated by the man nearly splitting you in half with his cock as his hand once again delved into your hair to pull your head back, causing a startled scream to replace the moans.

“You don’t get to decide how fast I fuck you, Princess”.

With your head pulled back in this position, you were now having to stare at the wall behind his desk, which had a narcissistic painting of him, given to him as a joke by one of his employees. Now, however, to your delight, you were able to stare up at his handsome face as he fucked you with deep, tauntingly slow thrusts.

With this pace, you could feel every single inch dragging along your sensitive walls, causing them to spasm and tighten on instincts rather than just taking a quick hard fuck that left you forgetting to breathe and seeing stares. The way Steve currently had you was more overstimulating and had your breaths coming out in short huffs.

Steve, it seemed, knew every little moan and hitch of breath that your body took, understood at which degree of tightness your cunt squeezed him in with just how close you were to orgasm. His hips stopped thrusting as you could have sobbed as that beautiful sensation faded into a light buzz rather than an overwhelming euphoria.

“Please- Please Daddy, I…I… I’m sorry for my attitude, Daddy” You managed to find the right words, internally praising yourself for coherently saying what Steve wanted to say as currently, the only words running through your mind were, ‘fuck me harder, Daddy’.

“That’s all I wanted you to say, Princess”, he praises lightly as one hand remains holding onto your hair and the other slips between the desk and your mound so that two of his fingers can massage your clit.

The burst of fire that pulsed through you was powerful, knees wobbling and whines turning into incoherent begs of the word ‘yes!” as Steve finally began to fuck you at the fast pace you’d been hoping for.

You came so quickly that the breath rushed from your body, and you became light-headed from the overstimulation. He doesn’t stop, though; he just continues to hold you in place, fucking you and playing with your clit until you came a second time.

Thankfully, Steve did too, grunting desperately as his hips snapped up one more time, and wetness came flooding out of your cunt as his seed seeped out and down your thighs. Carefully, he removed his fingers from your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently rested your face on the desk whilst massaging your scalp and kissing along the back of your shoulder blade.

As he moved up towards your neck, you sighed in contentment, turning your face to the side so that he could gently kiss your cheek and you could reach around to run your fingers through his short, blond hair.

“Get your frustrations out?” he asks quietly and softly into your ear.

Nodding your head, you blink tiredly back at him, “Yes, thank you. But now, I have no clothes, and I can’t walk”.

Steve chuckles against your skin, a beautiful sound that has your toes curling again, “Well, I did warn you”.

#mafia!steve rogers #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x brat reader #steve rogers one shot #marvel smut #marvel one shot #mine*#steve rogers

544 notes · View notes

dontxevenxask · 4 months

Text

Bad hair day

Context: So you (Satorus wife and basically the mom of Megumi and Tsumiki) were enjoying a nice day, but Megumi came to you almost crying from a Gojos mess up with his hair.

Pairing: fem!reader x Gojo Satoru

TW: idk like hair cutting, a bit of yelling and that's abou it?? Yeah

Word count: abt 900 or so (it's short ik😭😭)

Authors note: haven't written in a loooong time, I have had a few projects but never had thr energy to finish em. I made this at like midnight so that's why it isn't the best. Oh and first language isn't english so can be some typos there!

---------------------------------------------------

You were relaxing in the kitchen, drinking some tea with a few biscuits while reading the new book you've just gotten from the library today.

It was rare to even have such a calm day with nothing special to do. You could just Be by yourself and enjoy the day.

As you thought that would be the case for the rest of the day, but you were about to Be proven very wrong by the universe once again.

You heard quick and pretty silent thumps coming down stairs with the person just yelling. It was Megumi who was on the verge of tears as he came up to you with you getting up from the chair quickly as he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs as he covered his face with them starting to cry now.

"Wha-? Megumi are you okay? What happened??" You asked worried as you got down on your knees so you could see his face.

"My..hair!" He said sniffling inbetween his words.

You took a look at his hair and, oh, my, god.. his hair was cut very badly and pretty short too. He had a pair of bangs too! Now who in the hell did that to him??

You were staring at his hair standing up just about to ask him who did that. But then you saw a tall figure leaning against the kitchens door frame with a look of both dissapointment and guilt.

"I told him to stay still.." He tried defending himself but it was no use really.

"God.." you let out in a sigh while rubbing your temples trying to calm down a bit. "Are you serious?? He just had his hair cut a few days ago!"

"Well he said he didn't really like the length of it?! And I decided to fix it up since you were finally relaxing for sometime" Gojo said now looking into your eyes but then looking away again.

Megumi was still crying from his awful haircut as you were arguing with Gojo for a bit as well about the situation, everything was so loud and it made you just more irritated.

"Okay okay! Megumi, honey? How about I fix your hair, yeah?" You leaned down to look at him.

He then started to calm down but still had some tears on his cheecks and a runny nose as he nodded as an answear. So you picked him up with his arms around your neck gently and his legs around your back.

Gojo stared at you both as you walked past him with Megumi in your arms. Though you didn't notice the death stare that Megumi gave to Gojo before you walked upstairs to go to the bathroom to fix it all up.

"Okay, now sit here and I'll try my best to fix it" for sure yours couldn't be as bad as this monstosity on his head

---------------------------------------------------

After about an hour of hard work with scissors snapping and hair falling down, you got his hair to look actually pretty good!

"So, how's that?" You asked fixing it up a bit with your fingers.

"..Amazing!" Megumi said cracking a smile as he turned around to hug you as you put your hand on top oh his head stroking his soft hair.

You then opened the door with Satoru and Tsumiki both outside waiting to see the results. Tsumiki was also a bit amazed and went to look at it closer as Gojo just looked at you smiling.

You saw him smiling at you and you smiled as well "Hey why won't you two go watch some TV?" You said to the kids as they then left down stairs to go and do just what you said.

"So.. I'm sorry for cutting his hair without asking you first.." he admitted looking down at the floor.

"Thanks but you probably should apologise to Megumi instead of me?" You said smiling a bit raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, mhm, sure"

"Gojo??"

"Okay I will!" He finally said.

"Good, and please never! Cut anyones hair again, expecially yours! I don't want to date a bald man okay?" You said smiling as you left a quick and soft kiss on his lips before going down to hear his apology to Megumi.

#gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #jjk fanfic

245 notes · View notes

thefiery-phoenix · 1 month

Text

YANDERE YOOJIN(EUGENE) HEADCANONS

I seriously PRAY for you if you have him after you, it's like you've received a death contract from the devil himself. One thing you cannot deny when it comes to him is his determination, when he's set out to do something, he WILL get it done, including of course, stalking you and finding out everything about you. You could either meet him in school when you both are in the same class, you make the unfortunate mistake of standing up for him when he's getting bullied and picked on by the other people and ever since then he decides to know everything about you. It's like the heavens itself sent him an angel, just for him. He lives in his own deluded little fantasy world where you belong to him

Don't worry if you didn't get the memo, you'll get it soon enough right after he finishes ensuring that silly chemistry partner of yours disappears for good. Male or female, he doesn't give a damn. He doesn't like it when other people are too close to you for his liking. He got absolutely infuriated with that teacher pairing you with someone else other than him, how DARE that happen? You BELONG to him, his mind was working in overdrive, churning with less than savory and unpleasant thoughts but he still maintained his usual calm and stoic manner with his fake smile plastered across his smug face. I'm telling you, this guy is WAY WORSE than a serial killer, he'll have his own sadistic pleasure and fun toying with the person he's after and send the rest of the workers after that poor schmuck where Mandeok will resort to punching them in the face till they're knocked out cold and bloodied on the ground

If you're one of the Worker's and a part of the organization, he doesn't want you finding out about the dark secrets of the organization. He'll specifically warn the others to keep their mouths shut around you and anyone else who dares to slip something by mistake or accident, well... they'll be found dead in the next hour or so. He does NOT want his reputation getting tarnished in your eyes, you do mean a lot to him and he holds you in the highest regard even if he does want you chained up to his bed and be by his side at all times. He gets jealous really fast too but he doesn't really show it outside, he's managed to keep a check and control of his emotions. He'll have that unnerving fake smile plastered across his face as his eyes narrow coldly and he'll give a slight nod to his right hand man Mandeok to deal with the pest which he'll comply

If you think he won't have files and files of information on you, you're mistaken. He'll send his brother Yuseong after you to find out more about you and he'll make him report EVERY single thing that you in your life, he feels like he's getting a glimpse into the window of your life and he'll use every single bit of information to his own advantage to pull the strings to manipulate you into getting you to be his since that's the kind of guy he is. He's really not above installing secret cameras in your own house either, he'll have a large storage of videos of you along with all your passwords, your search history...everything. When he does his research for you, he leaves no stone untouched, no possibility unchecked

The other day Mitsuki made a slight joke of you competing in the circus and he almost blew a fuse and was on the verge of forgetting his politeness and was ready to strangle her. His eyes narrowed at her coldly as he spoke "Mitsuki... I do hope you did not forget your position here. You might be the President of the worker's second Affiliate but I am the chairman. Any more unsavory thoughts on the one I intend to pursue...let me assure you that the consequences for you will be dire'' he said in an ominous tone as his expression darkened at her. Mitsuki had no choice but to keep herself from spewing insults at him because he was right. Despite Eugene having a sadistic streak and persona inside him, he doesn't actually want to see you physically getting hurt. He'd rather resort to mind games and emotional manipulation instead of seeing you get hurt physically

Look, he cares for you in his own twisted way. I'd say you'll be kidnapped by him after a week or two weeks. You'll wake up on a fancy bed with lush and posh furniture around as he enters the room and he'll caress your cheek with a sickly lovesick obsessive look in his eyes. "I'm so glad you're awake sweetheart...there'll be some new changes to your life now. You'll be mine now and there are some rules you'll have to follow'' he said. After your initial hysteria and panicking and demands to be set free, he'll just chuckle softly at you and look at you with an endearing look on his face like you just said something cute and adorable to him. "Let you go, darling, don't be silly...it's a dangerous world out there, I'm doing this to keep you safe. You wouldn't want to make me mad now do you...'' he said as he stared at you in amusement while he could see your will power and determination crumbling slightly as the moment passes by. He would be lying if he didn't like how helpless and scared and vulnerable you looked, on the contrary he actually enjoyed it

He's going to enjoy breaking you and shaping you like a clay doll that'll obey his every word and wish. The only thing that's keeping you from loving him is your own self which he'll obviously has to deal with. He'll use your family and friends against you and each time you have tears streaming down your face he'll coo at you with mock sympathy and kiss your cheeks and dry your tears. He can't believe he has you in his arms, where you rightfully belong. For the love of god and your sanity, don't even think of trying to escape from him. You do NOT know to what extent he will go through to make your life hell. He'll have you dragged back by his brother Yuseong without saying a word and for the first time, even that fake smile of his disappeared and he'll give you a cold look which will fill you with a sense of dread for what's about to happen

"This is for your own good darling...you need to learn you NEED me in your life'' he said as you'll be locked in a room and tied to the bed with silk ropes. He doesn't want to hurt you after all. But at the same time he also kind of does so...say goodbye to your friends and family I guess. Don't be too sad when you see their missing or dead bodies on the news channels the next day as he'll whisper in your ear how the whole thing could have been prevented had you not acted like a brat. He does have his soft moments with you at times. He likes talking to you about your day or about anything basically. He likes to spoil you with gifts and forehead kisses and cheek kisses too and pat you on the head like you're some kind of pet when you don't scream at him for 5 whole days. He also likes having you on his lap during his work and he WANTS people to know you're his and you belong to him, that way no one would have the guts to mess with him

It's not like you can ask someone for help either, all the Workers are strictly loyal to him which makes sense since he IS the chairman after all. Yuseong will be your secret bodyguard, always watching your every move and snitching on you when he feels like you might plan to leave his brother. He would even resort to drugging you or sedating you to make you nice and pliant and obedient for him till your thoughts are occupied of him and only him...he's going to make you his in every way possible...

151 notes · View notes

hanluex · 6 months

Text

comic!jay having a bad dream about your death and not being able to shake it so he all but breaks down your door one night to make sure you’re alive. you’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water before bed and he pretty much just tackles you with how quickly he pulls you into his arms. doesn’t let go of you for the whole night

♡ JUST A NIGHTMARE — JASON TODD

bf!jason x gn!reader | wc : 0.7k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, angst, mild fluff, mentions of what the joker did to jason in form a nightmare, kisses

“it’s just a nightmare. please, just be a nightmare.”

jason todd uttered the words under his breath like a mantra, sitting on his bed as he dialed your number.

but alas, you didn’t answer.

one call turned into two. two turned into five. and five turned into twenty. but you never answered — not even one.

suddenly, the nightmare seemed so much more real. the colors, the sounds, the pain — everything replayed vividly in his head, forcing him to relive the nightmare he just woke up from.

jason sat tied to a chair as the joker stood over your bruised body, holding a bloodied crowbar in his hands.

he was helpless as he watched the man who once killed him do the same things to you, not a sound leaving his lips no matter how much he screamed.

tears rolled down his face as jason realized he couldn’t do anything but watch the psychotic villain repeatedly whack the love of his life to death.

despite having a big build, the raven-haired male remained restrained to the chair as you reached out a bloody hand towards him, your busted lips parting ever-so-slowly in an attempt to say something.

with a final stab, the joker towered over you, laughing manically as your body went limp, the quietest of gasps leaving your lips as the crowbar sank into your chest.

without another word, he rushed to find you, knowing there was no way he’d be able to go back to sleep without checking if you were okay.

please prove me wrong, y/n. please be okay.

you stood in your kitchen, sleepily rubbing your eyes as you opened a bottle of water to drink from.

after a long night of work, you came home exhausted, not even bothering to have dinner as you took a shower and went straight to bed.

it was past two in the morning when you finally woke up, oblivious to your phone (which was on silent mode) that had been ringing nonstop for the past half hour.

the pin-drop silence in your apartment came to an end as you heard someone banging against your door, making you freeze in your spot.

“y/n! please tell me you are here!”

the familiar voice snapped you out of your frozen state, and your feet quickly rushed to open the door.

jason todd, your boyfriend, stood in front of your door, panting as if he had just run to your house.

which, considering the situation, he definitely had — no doubt.

you watched as a look of relief graced his face, not wasting any time wrapping his arms around you.

you remained confused as you fell into his muscled embrace, returning his touch as you processed what was happening.

jason felt his knees give away, absolutely relieved to know you were unharmed as he held you in his arms.

you gently guided him to the floor, surprised to see your ever-so-stoic boyfriend look like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“jay,” you gently spoke, rubbing his back. “i'm here, my love. i'm right here.”

you had absolutely no idea why your boyfriend almost broke down your door just to hold you in the middle of the night, but you knew there was a reasonable explanation behind his actions.

“i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere.”

the two of you remained on the floor, just wrapped in each other's embrace, until jason finally spoke up.

you listened as he quietly confessed about the nightmare he had, your hands intertwined with his as you two sat on the floor.

“i'm sorry. it was stupid and i should've just let it be and—”

“it's not.” you shook your head, smiling gently at the raven-haired male. “i'm really sorry for making you worried.”

“don't be sorry. i barged in—”

you shrugged. “you almost broke my door off its hinges and calmly walked inside. i wouldn’t call that barging in,” you joked, bringing a smile to your boyfriend’s face.

“that i did, yes.” jason nodded. “i’m really sorry about that.”

you leant forward, capturing your boyfriend's lips in a chaste kiss. the raven-haired male smiled against your lips, sighing in contentment.

“you don’t have to apologize for caring about me, jaybird.” you pressed another kiss on his lips, smiling. “i love you.”

jason felt at ease as he looked at you. “i’m glad you are here. alive and unharmed,” he mumbled, shaking his head at the thought of the nightmare.

you pulled yourself into his arms, getting comfortable in his hold as you gently cupped your boyfriend’s face in your hands.

“it was just a nightmare, my love. i’m right here in front of you, and i’m not going anywhere.”

taglist : @maverick-wingman (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

#submission #[📝] works #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #titans jason #jason todd imagines #titans imagines #titans red hood #red hood imagines #red hood scenarios #red hood x reader #red hood drabbles #titans drabbles #jason todd scenarios #jason todd #titans tv show #titans scenarios #red hood

204 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 11 months

Text

To the world we dream about (and the one we live in now)

Calliope & Reader, Morpheus/Dream of the Endless & Reader

Summary: Being in the right place at the right time turns everything you thought you knew on its head when a woman, imprisoned and battered, is literally thrown into your life. Left with no choice but to do the obvious, you offer her shelter and support in her time of need.

Unbeknownst to you, said woman is a powerful and ancient being who now belongs to you in accordance with the old laws. This situation definitely won’t become complicated, right?

Word Count: 14.5k

Author's Note: A couple of months ago, I received an ask, seen below, and have not been able to stop thinking about it since. After a lot of brainstorming with the wonderful sender of the ask (not sure if they want to be named!), I finally sat down to write it.

So, here we are! This story took on a mind of its own the longer I wrote (perhaps the Muse Calliope paid me a visit haha), and it's genuinely something that I'm so proud to have produced. It's not necessarily an x reader fic—right now, though depending on reader reaction there may be future parts (including a Calliope/Morpheus POV of these events)—so I absolutely understand if you choose not to read, but I hope that you do. In the end, this is truly Calliope's story.

A story of empowerment, friendship, freedom, and self-discovery.

Content warnings for this work include allusions to sexual assault, general trauma, Richard Madoc, vomiting, kidnapping, realizations of inadvertent kidnapping, mentions of death, and Nightmare!Morpheus. Reader discretion is advised.

The man standing at the front of the room taps his fingers along the edge of his lectern, savoring the enraptured faces that stare back at him. For those in his class, this is expected of him—he always gets a dramatic air about him when he’s on the verge of making the point that he had been working towards for the entire lecture and looping it back to the thesis statement from the beginning of the hour. Though it was routine by now, practically tradition, the students still ate it up every time.

“The theme between all of these authors–the Fitzgeralds and the Hemingways, the Tolkeins and the Orwells–is that their words carry power and strength. While they may look like mere letters strung together on a sheet of paper, when read together, these words have a weight behind them. They can conjure up worlds, inspire the masses, make readers think critically; it’s a type of magic when you really think about it.”

He checks his watch before clapping his hands together in finality and smiling out at the room.

“Well, my friends, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today. Thank you very much for joining me, and please make sure that you have your essays on the influences of World War One and its aftermath on the literature of the time ready for our next class. See you then!”

When your university announced that world-renowned author Ric Madoc would be a visiting professor for the semester, you immediately jumped on the long list of students interested in taking one of the three classes that were going to be taught by him. You had absolutely no hope that you would get into the class, not when it seemed like half the student body was also signed up, but you had to at least try. The Spirit Who Had Half of Everything was one of your favorite books of all time, and you’d be remiss not to attempt to learn from the master himself.

Somehow, much to your surprise, you had received an email informing you that you earned a spot in Madoc’s “Great Works of the 20th Century” class. The class had lived up to the hype so far and you were thoroughly enjoying it, even though it wasn’t exactly related to your field of study. In fact, you enjoyed it so much that you normally stayed behind with a group of students to continue having a discussion with Madoc about the aforementioned great works. Today, unfortunately, you couldn’t, having to rush out immediately after class was over to make it to your group project meeting in the library on time.

Of course, it’s difficult to get any sort of work done when one happens to be randomly paired with their best friend, but you’re trying your hardest.

“Psst.” You don’t look up, choosing instead to try and finish the sentence you’re writing, but a balled-up gum wrapper hits you smack in the center of the forehead. “Hey!”

After you’ve finished typing, you look across the table at Evie, your best friend. “Can I help you?” you ask.

“Do you wanna come out with me and a couple of others tonight?”

“It’s Thursday.”

She shrugs. “So?”

Points were made, and who are you to resist a good argument? “Convincing. I’m in! I just have to run home real quick and get changed.”

As you search through your bag, you start to feel your heart plummeting in your chest as you realize that you can’t find your keys. Digging through the contents furiously in the hopes that they’ll turn up yields no results, and neither does patting at the pockets you know are empty. With horror in your eyes and fear in your heart, you look back up at her.

“Fuck, I lost my keys.”

“Shit, dude. Do you remember where you last had them?”

“Um.”

You have to think for a moment, mentally retracing your steps until you can definitively pinpoint the last time you saw your keys. They were with you in the parking lot, because you remember locking your car twice just to be sure that you did. From there, you would have been holding them in your hand as you walked to Madoc’s class. Considering you went straight from class to the library, there are limited options for where they could be. Either you left them in the lecture hall or you dropped them somewhere on campus. For your sake, you hope it’s the former.

On the syllabus, Madoc had given the class his work cell phone number in case of emergencies like being unable to make it to class or an act of God destroying your homework. Though you doubted you would need it at the time, you still saved it in your phone to be on the safe side. Now, as you pull up his contact and start a new conversation, you thank past-you for having such good foresight.

You: Hey, great class today! Did you happen to find a set of keys left behind in the lecture hall? I’m missing mine.

After a second of contemplation, you send another text with your first and last name when you realize he probably doesn’t know who it is texting him. It only takes a couple of anxious minutes before your phone chimes.

Richard Madoc: Hello! Would these happen to be the keys in question?

Richard Madoc: Attachment

The keys are immediately recognizable as yours, thanks to the keychain of a possum wearing a cowboy hat that’s attached to them. You sigh in immense relief before glancing up at Evie, who’s been watching with bated breath the entire time. “I left them in Madoc’s class.”

“Oh thank god!”

You: They are! Any chance you’re still on campus so I can swing by and grab them?

Richard Madoc: I’m afraid I’ve already left for the day, but I live pretty close to the uni if you’d be willing to pick them up from my flat.

He sends an address in the following text, which you promptly input in your maps app so you can see where said address is located. It’s maybe a five-minute drive from campus and conveniently located in the direction of your apartment.

You: Will be there in a bit! Thank you :)

“He already left, I’d have to pick them up from his place,” you explain.

Evie immediately fixes you with a look, one that says she’s seen this particular move before (and she didn’t like the ending). “Do you want me to come with you?”

The unspoken words hang in the air between you: Do you feel safe going to an unfamiliar man’s house alone? Should I come to make sure nothing bad happens? It’s very thoughtful of her, and you consider saying yes for a moment.

But Evie lives in the opposite direction of you, and she doesn’t have a car. While you don’t know Madoc well, you’re also not expecting him to try anything on you, especially when it’s still light out.

“I should be okay,” you say.

“You’re sure?” Evie double-checks, and you nod. “Call me before you get there, okay? Just…have me on the line, in your back pocket. It’d make me feel better about letting you go on your own.”

How did you get so lucky to have such a great friend like Evie? Of course, you would do the same for Evie in a heartbeat, but it’s so nice to have found a kindred spirit, someone who truly understands you and all your little quirks, so early in your adulthood.

“You’re not letting me do anything,” you tease. “But yeah, I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, sliding her papers and her laptop into her backpack. “Now let’s go. The sooner you get your keys, the sooner we can go and get drunk.”

It feels a little dumb to be driving such a short distance, from the campus to the address that Madoc had given you. You’re exactly the type of person that’s killing the planet with unnecessary carbon emissions when you could just as easily walk, you chastise yourself on the way over.

But you had driven to class this morning, that being a distance actually too far to walk, and it would be stupid to walk to Madoc’s, get your keys, walk back to campus, and then drive home. So here you are, beating yourself up over something stupid and inconsequential while you try your best to parallel park in a respectable manner in front of Madoc’s little townhouse.

It’s exactly the type of lodgings you’d expect a university professor to have, yet almost the opposite of what you envisioned as a successful author’s home; a small, yet stately, townhouse with a little fenced-in front yard. Plants try their hardest to survive in the patch of dirt that’s probably supposed to be a garden, and there’s a small chair and table perfect for Sunday mornings sitting on the front stoop.

The gate creaks when you open it, and even more when you close it behind you. At the last second, you remember that you promised to call Evie, so you pull out your phone and do just that.

“Hey, you there?” Evie answers her phone.

“Yeah, just got here. Putting you in my pocket now.”

Even though the idea felt a little like an overreaction, you can’t deny that you feel safer now knowing that Evie’s listening on the phone.

You knock on the dark blue front door once, twice, three times before taking a step back and waiting patiently. After about thirty seconds, you start to worry that Madoc’s not home. But no, that wouldn’t make sense; you talked to him maybe half an hour ago, and he knew that you were on your way to pick up your keys. Frowning, you knock again, followed by holding your ear to the door to see if you can hear anything.

He’s definitely inside. Though the sound is muffled, you can hear what sounds like him yelling at somebody through the door. Who the source of his ire is, you can’t say, because there’s nobody saying anything back to him. Maybe he’s having a really heated conversation on the phone? If that’s the case, it’s a pretty inconvenient time to launch into a virtual argument.

You don’t want to be rude and knock for a third separate time, but you really do need your keys, and you’d prefer to not be kept standing out here waiting. Begrudgingly, you knock yet again, putting a considerable amount of force behind it this time.

“Mr. Madoc?” you call through the door, raising your voice enough that you’re sure he’s heard you. By the way that he suddenly falls silent, you’re assuming that you’ve been successful. Pulling back from your position right up against the door, you wait for him to appear.

When the door is yanked open, you’re shocked at what you see. Gone is the confident lecturer who stood at the front of your class this afternoon. The man in front of you looks positively haggard. His eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed, and his bottom lip quivers almost as furiously as his hands shake. His hair is a mess, as though he’s been pulling at it, and his shirt is weirdly rumpled like he fell asleep in it.

You take a big step back when his eyes land wildly on you without really seeing you. Your hand goes to your back pocket, hovering just above your phone in case this encounter goes south and you need to have Evie do…something. Call the cops? Yell at Madoc through the phone? Scream? Whatever it is, though, she’ll do it for you.

“Hi. Um, you–”

Madoc shakes his head back and forth and begins to mumble something, completely ignoring you and your presence. He reaches one of his hands further inside the house, grabbing at something unseen. Your body tenses, preparing to fight this man that, up until two minutes ago, you had believed to be completely sane and rational.

His hand comes back into view, tightly gripping a woman’s upper arm. She’s barefoot and clad only in a thin silk nightgown, and you can see the goosebumps already appearing on her skin.

“A city in which the streets are paved with time,” he mumbles a little louder, allowing you to hear what he’s rambling about. “A train full of silent women, plowing forever through the twilight. Heads made of light. A small piece of blue cardboard. A plum, sweet and tart and cold.”

“Mr. Madoc, are you alright?”

Instead of answering you, Madoc throws the woman across the threshold and towards you. You catch her in your arms, both of you stumbling backward, but you let go when you notice how she immediately tenses at your touch.

“She’s your problem now, I can’t do this anymore!” Madoc begins to pull at his hair, so hard that you think he might end up pulling it out of his head. “I refuse to be tortured any longer!”

“What are you talking about?”

He’s lost his damn mind, you think to yourself as he continues to spout the most random of ideas. You thought that you had properly calculated the risks of coming over here on your own, but apparently, you’re bad at math.

“A were-goldfish who transforms into a wolf at full moon. Griffins shouldn’t marry. Vampires don’t dance.” Madoc shakes and smacks himself multiple times as if to try and snap himself out of whatever he’s gotten into. “A man who inherits a library card to the library in Alexandria. A rose bush, a nightingale, and a black rubber dog collar!”

You’re so thrown off by what you’re witnessing that you don’t even realize he’s closing the door until the sound of it hitting the doorframe reminds you why you’re here. You bang your fist against the door and yell at him, “Hey! Give me my fucking keys!”

Madoc opens the door just enough to throw your keys at you, which you fumble and nearly drop until catching them by the stupid cowboy possum keychain, before slamming it shut again. From within, you can hear several locks clicking shut loudly in quick succession.

The speed with which this entire interaction has occurred leaves your head spinning, and you have to take a moment to realize that yes, what you just experienced was real. Even then, you stare at the door bemusedly. “What the fuck?”

“I do not believe he will be coming back,” an accented voice says from behind you.

You can’t stop the little scream of surprise that leaves you when you whip around to face the woman who, until this moment, you forgot had been kicked out of Madoc’s house. She stares at you, just as warily as you’re probably staring at her.

She’s otherworldly beautiful, with olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. But what stands out the most is just how visibly scared she is. She watches you like you’re a predator readying to attack. You hate it because you’d never do anything like that to anybody, but especially her. What had Madoc done to cause her to have this reaction to a stranger?

Evie’s voice rises tinnily from the phone in your back pocket, loud and panicked, and you remember that she’s been on the phone this whole time. You pull your phone out and hold it up to your ear, having to put a little distance between it due to how she’s yelling.

“—I swear, I’m two seconds away from calling the cops! Please just let me know you’re okay!”

“Evie, hey, I’m here,” you say, making her cry out in relief.

“Oh my god, are you okay? I was scared when I heard yelling!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. Pretty sure I just watched Madoc have a mental breakdown?” Is that what that was? You can’t say for certain, considering this is your first such occasion.

“Seriously? Well, did you get your keys, at least?”

“After he finished rambling about were-goldfish and plums.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you going to call somebody?”

“Who would I call? And anyway, maybe this is normal for him.”

“If that’s normal, I’d hate to see what abnormal is.” She sighs. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

“Um,” you trail off, looking at the woman. “Y’know, I might take a rain check, if that’s okay. I’m a little shaken up by everything that just happened.”

“I bet, that sounds like it was really scary. We’ll miss you, but take care of yourself. If you do decide to come out, just text me and I’ll tell you where we’re at.”

“Thanks, Ev. I’ll, uh, talk to you soon.”

You hang up the phone, and now you and the woman are left awkwardly staring at each other. How are you supposed to approach a situation like this? Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you hold your hands with the palms facing out so that she can see you’re not holding any weapons and decide to just start from the beginning.

“Hi.”

She nods back in greeting, trying to hold herself with as much dignity as she can in this situation. The chill of the night and her lack of proper clothing leave her trembling in front of you, though some of that is likely from fear too, and you can see bruises in various shades of healing up and down her arms. Worse, there are visible fingerprint-shaped bruises ringing her neck. Though you’ve never been particularly violent, you’re tempted to break down Madoc’s door and do unto him what he’s obviously done to this woman.

“Are you cold? I have a spare jacket if you want it.” You point the hundred or so feet to where your car sits. “Here, let’s go over to my car, I’m just parked on the street right there.”

The woman attempts to gauge you and, presumably, your intentions. Though this is her decision to make, you give her a friendly smile in the hopes of convincing her that you have no ill will toward her. After a moment, she nods hesitantly.

You take the lead as you walk down the front path to your car, mainly to show that she holds the power here. There will be nobody sneaking up on this woman or trying anything, and she’s free to run far away from you if that’s what she chooses.

Still, she follows you, and waits patiently while you dig around in your back seat until you finally come up with the light jacket that you had tossed back there after an outdoor movie night. You hand it to her and she shrugs it on, holding it tightly around her and trying to hide within the cotton fabric.

You don’t want to ask the question that’s on your mind, but you know that you have to. You need some sort of context for the situation. “Was…Madoc keeping you locked up in there?” She nods, and you feel your stomach roil with sick nausea. “Okay. We need to call the cops, so they can come and arrest him.”

“No!” she says firmly, a departure from how soft-spoken she previously was. “Please, I beg you, no authorities.”

“But…”

Maybe he hadn’t kidnapped her like you found yourself assuming at first. Perhaps this is a severe case of domestic violence? Regardless, she looks like the poster child for abused women, and you’re not about to disrespect her wishes when this is probably the first choice she’s been able to make for herself in a long time.

“Okay,” you agree. “No cops.”

“Thank you.” She sounds so relieved that it makes you want to cry.

An idea begins to form in your head, but one that you’re not sure how to begin to broach. After all, the woman in front of you has absolutely no reason to trust you. “I’m guessing you don’t have anywhere to go?”

She shakes her head. “No, I have…nowhere, and nobody.”

That settles it. You’re not about to leave a battered, formerly-trapped woman to fend for herself on the streets. “So listen. I have a spare room at my place, and you’re completely welcome to it for as long as you need.”

“Oh, I could not impose.”

“You wouldn’t be!” you assure her. “Please, it’s the least I can do. At least until you get back on your feet.”

She studies you again. Though you don’t know what she’s looking for, you can tell that she’s the kind of intuitive person that sees beyond that which is only skin-deep. Finally, she says, “Alright.”

You grin and open the passenger side door, gesturing for her to get in. “Alright.”

After getting the car started and the heat turned up all the way, you watch as the woman fiddles with the airflow of the heater until it’s blowing directly on her delicate hands, which she holds in front of her to warm up. She looks at you as if realizing for the first time that you could betray her trust much in the same way as Ric Madoc had. To prove to her that you won’t, you unlock the doors when they try to lock automatically in response to you putting the car in ‘drive’.

You tell her your name, and for the first time, she smiles. It’s a small thing, barely a quirk of the lips, but it’s there. “I am Calliope.”

“Oh cool, like the Muse!” Her smile widens until she’s actually smiling, leaving you delighted. “Your parents were into Greek mythology, then?”

“Something like that, yes.”

As you drive to your apartment, Calliope turns in her seat and watches as Madoc’s apartment grows smaller and smaller behind your car. Even after it’s disappeared behind turns and other buildings, she still watches, perhaps waiting for him to come back to his senses and come after her. But there will be none of that tonight, or ever again. Not as long as you have anything to do about it.

When you get home, you continue the routine of taking the lead and allowing Calliope to decide whether or not she wants to follow you. Calliope lingers in the entryway of your apartment, taking her time carefully cataloging everything that she can see as you work at getting the lights turned on and trying to clean up a little bit—after all, you hadn’t exactly expected a houseguest when you left for class this morning.

She runs her fingers along the walls and the frames of artwork that you’ve acquired at festivals and flea markets. She feels the coats on your coat rack, and her dark, inquisitive eyes scan over the battered toaster and soft fruit in your kitchen. As she walks further into your home, she takes care to take up as little space as possible until she reaches where you stand in front of a closed door.

“My old roommate moved in with their girlfriend a couple of months ago, and they don’t know what they want to do with her furniture, so they’re just storing it here until they can figure it out,” you explain as you open the door and flick on the light switch to reveal a bare bedroom. It’s sparsely furnished, with just a full bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a desk and chair. “Now, it’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“For as long as you need it,” you repeat.

Hesitantly stepping inside, Calliope looks over the room before nodding in satisfaction. You can only hope that she had a space of her own in Madoc’s house, but by the way that she looks around like she’s never seen something so wonderful as an empty bedroom before, you’re left with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the case.

“So! I’ll grab some sheets and a blanket from the linen closet and get the bed made up for you. Um, all of the doors lock on the inside, so feel free to keep yourself and your space private. Do you want to take a shower? Because you definitely can. Avery—that’s my old roommate—left some of the clothes they didn’t want behind, and they’re about your size, I think.” You’re rambling, but you just want to make her feel as welcome as possible.

“A shower would be…nice,” Calliope decides.

“Awesome! The bathroom’s right through here, c’mon.”

In the bathroom, Calliope watches as you grab a couple of towels from the closet, along with the sheets and blanket you mentioned earlier. You set the towels down on the closed toilet lid next to the shower.

“Feel free to use any of my stuff here, it’s totally fine,” you explain, pulling back the shower curtain so Calliope can see your haircare products and body wash.

Instead of looking over that array, she simply stares at the chrome of the shower faucet in confusion.

“Oh yeah, the shower’s a little weird here. All you have to do is turn the handle, and then pull the plug on the faucet for the shower.” You show her as you explain it. “Turn the handle left for hot water, and right for cold. Got it?”

“I believe so.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then. Just yell if you need anything from me.”

You close the bathroom door behind you and after a long moment, you finally hear the lock turn.

Good. In the meantime, you’ll make a quick meal for her, in case she’s hungry. Plus, you need to keep your hands busy. It will help take your mind off of the horrors you’re trying desperately to forget that you witnessed.

•••

Four days later, Evie runs up to you on campus when she sees you and wraps both of her hands around your upper arm before pulling you towards her. “Did you hear?”

“What?” You’re more focused on not falling over your feet at the sudden change of pace you’ve been forced into than you are wondering what you did or didn’t hear.

“You were right. Mr. Madoc had a complete mental breakdown! Somebody called in a welfare check on him, and the cops found him curled up in a ball mumbling gibberish. He hadn’t moved for days. You know the worst part, though?”

You shake your head.

“He covered every single wall of his house with the most random words and phrases, and they were all written in his own blood.”

You reel back. “Jesus!”

“I know, totally gory.” By her laugh, you can tell that she enjoys the gore.

It’s at this moment that you realize that you haven’t told Evie anything about what happened after you hung up with her that night. It certainly wasn’t deliberate; you’ve just been so caught up in the sudden change in your living arrangements that you haven’t had the time to text or call her about what you went through.

With that in mind, you say, “I have something to tell you.”

Evie’s eyes immediately light up at the prospect of gossip. “You do?”

You nod. “That night, when I went to his house? He grabbed this woman from inside his house and just threw her at me, saying that she was my problem now. She was all bruised and wearing nothing but a nightgown, and he treated her like she was his property. Evie, she said he kept her trapped there.”

“What the fuck.” Evie stares at you in horror. “Is she okay now?”

“Physically, yeah. She’s staying with me.”

“At your apartment?”

“Where else? Her name’s Calliope. I’m letting her stay in Avery’s old room until she gets back on her feet again.”

Evie whistles lowly. “I can’t tell if that’s kind of you or stupid of you.”

“Probably both.”

“Yeah, probably.”

As you walk, an astute observation comes to your mind. “Y’know, it makes sense that he’s such a piece of shit. Now that I think about it, the only authors we ever discussed in class were white guys.”

“Hmm, typical white man.” Evie rolls her eyes before she grins. “Hey, can I meet her?”

“Calliope?”

“Who else?”

You have to think about that for a minute. Would she be comfortable with meeting new people and putting herself out there? While you think that your friends are great, especially Evie, you just don’t want to force her into anything before she’s ready.

Evie seems to sense this hesitation, and explains, “She just seems like she needs some friends. A support system might be good for her while she tries to get her life back!”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll ask her if she wants to do something like that.”

“That’s all I ask,” Evie says. “In the meantime, is there anything that I can do to help? Like, does she need clothes? Kiara’s aunt owns that boutique, and she would probably be willing to help out.”

That’s a good idea and one that you hadn’t even considered. Obviously, Calliope’s going to want some clothes of her own instead of Avery’s hand-me-downs. It’ll probably help her to feel more like a human being, one with choice and agency over herself.

“Oh, would you ask her to talk to her aunt?” you ask. “That’d be great.”

Evie nods. “Definitely. I feel like that’s, like, the least I can do.”

“I wish there was more that I could do,” you admit.

“You’re doing what you can, and that’s what matters. Hell, most people wouldn’t have even offered to let a woman in Calliope’s situation stay with them. You’re a good person, you know that?”

“Thanks.”

“Eh, what are friends for, if not to reassure you that taking in a random woman on a whim is the right idea?” You huff in mock anger, and Evie laughs. “Anyways, you’ll never guess what the university is trying to do about the whole Madoc situation now…”

•••

Calliope doesn’t come out of her room when you’re around, not that you blame her. If you had gone through even an ounce of what you suspect she had, you’d want to be safe and alone for a long time, no matter how nice your new roommate is (and you like to think you’re pretty nice). You hear her sneak around when she knows that you’re in your own bedroom, as quiet as a mouse, and every night without fail, she takes a long shower. Other than that, it feels like you’re still living alone.

Since you don’t know how often she’s eating, and she doesn’t leave dishes or any sort of indication that she’s getting food for herself, you leave meals out in front of her door for her, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sticky notes accompany them, because you have things that you want her to know and this is the only way to communicate with her right now.

“Feel free to grab food from the kitchen whenever you want!”

“I have great books, and you’re more than welcome to them.”

“If you find yourself wanting to watch TV, the remote is on the coffee table!”

Each message is signed with a smiley face, and each one is gone when the empty tray is returned outside her door.

The empty trays and, eventually, the books that go missing from your bookshelf are the only signs of life that you receive from Calliope.

When Calliope finally emerges while you’re home and not in your room, it’s six days after Ric Madoc threw her into your arms. You’re sitting on your couch reading fanfiction, a random YouTube video playing in the background when Calliope’s door creaks open and she peeks her head out hesitantly. Immediately you pause the video, smiling brightly when she notices you looking at her.

“Hi!” you greet.

“Hello.” She slowly exits her room clutching the book she’s been reading, as skittish as a feral kitten, and you slide over on the couch before patting the now-empty other side in invitation.

“You can come sit if you want. I’m just reading.”

“What are you reading?” Calliope asks, perching on the edge of the cushion as though she’s preparing for escape at any moment.

The smile freezes on your face. Just because you’re happy your new roommate is here doesn’t mean you’re about to out yourself as a fanfiction reader. “Oh, just a fantasy book.”

“Why do you have that…television on, then?” Calliope says this as though she’s still unfamiliar with the concept of television.

“I like the background noise of putting on shows that I’ve already seen. Helps me focus.”

She looks at you like that’s one of the oddest things she’s ever heard. Maybe it is, but it’s your little habit, and it has been for so long that it’s normal now. You hit play again, and Calliope starts a bit as sound comes through the speakers on the TV. Funnily, even though she seems to not understand your reasoning, the sound itself helps her to relax enough that she’s sitting on the couch with you instead of hovering like she’s preparing to bolt at any moment.

You don’t say anything, not wanting to make her think that you’re dictating what she can and cannot do. Eventually, Calliope decides to follow your lead and open her book, though she keeps getting distracted by the TV and eventually forgoes the book entirely in favor of watching the show.

“The tall one does not believe in ghosts, but the little one does?” Calliope asks out of the blue. You swallow down your laugh at her description of the hosts and nod.

“Mhm, and that’s what makes the show so good, is that dichotomy between the two hosts. One is so serious about everything they do, every noise that they hear, and the other is just dancing around and begging the demons to possess him or whatever because he thinks they’re not real and so saying this stuff can’t hurt him.”

She watches silently for another few minutes before asking, “Why are they searching for ghosts in the first place?”

“Well, because people love trying to solve the unsolved. And I think ghosts and the question of their existence is one of the ultimate unsolved mysteries.” She nods in satisfaction and turns back to the show, and you decide to turn off your phone and join her.

Calliope, as it turns out, enjoys television, if only for the strange concepts of some of the shows. You’re more than happy to show her all of the strangest and best shows, with the bonus of getting to see them anew through her eyes, which seem to be watching everything for the very first time.

•••

It’s mid-afternoon, and instead of being outside on what’s turning out to be a beautiful day, you’re stuck doing homework.

Everybody had assumed that Ric Madoc’s classes would be canceled after his abrupt admission into the Saint Dymphna Mental Health Hospital. The university, however, not wanting to just give out automatic passing grades without merit, had scrambled to try and find professors to teach Madoc’s classes. Somehow, they had succeeded, and you were now once again immersed in the world of 20th-century authors. Though your new professor didn’t have the ability to truly capture a room in the same way Madoc had, she was a fine replacement, and she devoted a good chunk of class time to women authors.

It’s too nice of a day to not take advantage of, though. That first true spring day after a long, harsh winter has finally arrived, and you won’t let it pass you by. All of the windows are open to allow the stale air of the apartment to dissipate, and as you write, you listen to the birds chirping and people doing yard work. Maybe, if you finish quickly enough, you’ll be able to take a walk yourself.

Calliope would probably enjoy that as well, you think.

The woman in question knocks on your open bedroom door, and you look up at her with a smile from your desk. She clocks the computer and the notes spread around you and grows sheepish.

“I’m sorry, you are busy. I’ll–”

“No, don’t worry! Just finishing up an essay for a class. Got a crazy burst of motivation for it, and ended up knocking it out in a couple of hours. It’ll be good to look away from the screen.”

Calliope gets that funny little smile on her face, the one that says that she has found something amusing but is going to keep it to herself. She waits patiently as you stretch, wincing when she hears the way that your shoulders pop and crack after hours of stagnancy.

“What’s up?” you ask. “You seem like you want to ask me something.”

Calliope points out of your bedroom. “What is out there?”

You stand so that you can see what it is she’s referencing, and find that she’s pointing to your sliding door.

“Oh, it’s a little balcony. I don’t go out there much right now, still a little too chilly, but it’ll be nice to sit out there once summer comes. Here, I’ll show you.”

It’s the first time this season that it’s been nice enough to have the door open, which is probably why she’s only just now realized it’s there. You open the screen door and lead her out onto your balcony. It’s small, but you spent last summer adding to it and making it a comforting place to relax. Now, there are lights strung up above your heads, and there are two chairs with a table in between them. Planters sit lined up along the iron of the balcony railing, ready to be filled when planting season comes around.

Calliope gasps, and you’re about to ask what’s wrong (part of you is worried that a snake managed to find its way up to the third floor), when she tilts her face up to the sun, leaning over the railing to try and get as much of the light on her as possible. She looks like a painting come to life, probably with a name like “Muse Bathed in the Sun”, because truly, Calliope seems like the type of person to inspire every person lucky enough to make her acquaintance.

“Helios,” you hear Calliope whisper reverently.

It’s obvious that she isn’t aware that she said that out loud, and you start to feel embarrassed before she turns back to you with a true smile and tears running down her face.

“I have not been outside in the sun in so long.”

She explains this simply and factually, as if she’s talking about why the sun is where it is and not about all that she was deprived of during her captivity. Madoc didn’t even let her go outside. It’s a good thing that he’s under secure watch 24/7, because there have been many times over the almost-three weeks that Calliope has lived with you that you have wished to be able to go and inflict upon him a modicum of that which he did to Calliope.

Now tears are running down your face too, and you wipe at them harshly with the backs of your hands. This is Calliope’s moment, Calliope’s joy, and you won’t have her feeling sorry for making you experience such happiness and broken-heartedness by watching her.

“It’s here no matter what. Even if it’s a little cold, bring a blanket out and sit whenever you want. Soon, we’ll be able to plant some stuff. You can help me if you want!”

Calliope’s back to facing the sun directly, but she still nods to let you know that it’s a good idea. Quietly, you back up into the apartment and close the screen door behind you, letting her have this time of reconnection to herself.

Most mornings after this rediscovery, you find Calliope already sitting on the balcony by the time you wake up, a blanket around her shoulders, a mug of something hot in her hands, a book on her lap, and the sun bathing her skin.

•••

“Y’know what, I’m gonna give that one a three.”

“A three?” Calliope tuts. “That is cruel. His performance was at least a six.”

“C’mon Cal, you’re just saying that because you see the best in everybody! The rest of us saw a douchey frat bro drunkenly singing ‘SexyBack,’ which earned him a three. And that’s me being generous.”

Calliope and your friend Ethan are, of course, judging the karaoke performances of the bar patrons brave (or stupid) enough to sing in front of others. They, along with your friend Kiara, take this tradition very seriously. For every performance, the three of them have detailed notes and a rating out of ten to go along with it.

You had finally given in to Evie’s pleadings and decided to broach the subject of going out in public to Calliope. Much to your surprise, she accepted when you first invited her to karaoke night with your friends at the group’s favorite bar. She accepted when you offered to bring her to trivia, and she accepted when your friends finally got around to doing a book club meeting—which was mainly just drinking and eating appetizers while you talked about the books you’d read, but it still counted.

(Taking Calliope to her first drag show quickly became one of your favorite and most cherished memories)

She took to your friend group like a duck to water, and in return, they embraced her wholeheartedly. Now, none of you could imagine a life without her in it.

And slowly, it seemed as though Calliope began to start to heal. With every bar meetup, movie night, or random coffee date, you saw a bit more light return back to Calliope. Flashes of the woman that she once was, vibrant and funny and elegant and wise, begin to become more frequent as the days pass. Every time she allows for a hug or every time she smirks into her glass after saying something that has the group erupting in laughter, she becomes more and more herself.

“Oh my god, it’s our turn!” Ethan yells suddenly after the karaoke emcee calls his and Evie’s names. He stands and holds his hand out to Evie, who happily takes it and jumps up with him. “Let’s go knock some socks off.”

This will either go one of two ways. They’ll either perform their serious song, “Bennie and the Jets,” which they’re surprisingly good at, or they’ll go funny and perform the Sharpay and Ryan version of “What I’ve Been Lookin’ For” from High School Musical, which they’re also really good at. By their tipsy giggles, you’re guessing it’s the latter.

The second they both start doing the Sharpay and Ryan hype-up routine, Kiara sighs and grabs her drink and phone.

“I promised these dumbasses I’d film them the next time they performed this,” she explains before going to work as an unpaid videographer.

Throughout their entire routine, Calliope’s enthralled, as she should be. It’s a good performance, of course, but Evie and Ethan together are a true comedic duo. The matching jazz squares during the instrumentals truly bring the whole piece together, and you’re in tears from laughter by the end of their routine. When they return to the table after a rousing standing ovation from the patrons of the bar, Calliope gives them her own round of applause and beams.

Naturally, she bestows upon them the highest ranking one can receive during karaoke nights. “Now that was a ten.”

Ethan bows as Evie kisses Calliope’s cheek. “Thank you, m’lady,” he says proudly.

“When do you get the time to practice this?”

“Nights like this, usually,” Evie explains before Ethan interrupts.

“Though we have been known to skip a class or two when we were trying to work out the kinks in our performance.” Ethan picks up his drink before frowning when he sees there’s nothing but melting ice cubes in the glass. “Well, apparently I need another drink. Anybody else?”

Everyone at the table shakes their head, but Kiara reaches into her jacket. “No, but I am gonna go hit my pen.”

“Ooh, I’ll come with you,” Evie volunteers cheerfully.

“Weed thief,” Kiara teases.

“Are you telling me no?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s not a no!”

Your friends go their separate ways, leaving you and Calliope to sit alone at the table. The next singer has already started, and you grin when you hear what it is.

“Oh, I love this song,” you tell Calliope before singing along. “‘Cause I’m dreaming of you tonight, ‘til tomorrow I’ll be holding you tight!”

Beside you, Calliope grows a little gloomy. She’s frowning a bit; even if it’s barely there, you can always tell because it completely transforms her beautiful face into something so sad. You stop humming and look over at her, watching as she slowly swirls her straw in her drink repeatedly to give her something to do.

“Having fun?” you ask, slightly worried at the sudden melancholy that seems to have draped over her like a shroud.

“Yes,” she tries to assure you, but it sounds clipped, like she’s holding back.

“You know you don’t have to come just because I invited you, right? You can do whatever you want.” You never want her to feel as though you’re forcing her to do anything, and even though she’s been having fun up until now, there’s still that anxiety that tells you that she’s just going along with it because she feels like she owes you.

“I know,” Calliope assures. “But I enjoy you and your group of friends. You make me feel…welcomed, and accepted, in a way that I have not felt in a long time.”

“They’re your friends now too. Pretty sure they decided that the second they met you.”

“I consider them friends as well. I consider you a friend as well, though I hope you know that by now.” She smiles down at her drink. “Besides, I quite like the karaoke nights.”

“I can tell. You never sing with us, though.”

“I don’t need to, I just enjoy listening. The people singing, and enjoying themselves, it reminds me of my son. He, too, loved to sing, and he was gifted with such a beautiful voice.”

“You have a son?” This takes you by surprise. Though Calliope seems to be very maternal, she’s never mentioned anything about a child until now. The fact that she talks about him in the past tense has your heart sinking into your stomach from the implications.

Calliope nods. “My sweet boy, my Orpheus. He was beautiful, and heartbreakingly sweet. He had a voice that could bring even the gods themselves to tears. He was taken from me…far too soon, and I miss him every day, with every fiber of my being. Being here, among so many people happy and making music—I see his face in all of theirs, and it brings me some sense of peace, to know that I can find pieces of him here, in the most unlikely of places..”

It’s sweet that she kept the Greek mythology theme going with her own son, you think, though it’s tragic that he suffered the same fate as his namesake.

“He was so lucky to have a mom like you, Calliope. Any child would be.” You lick your lips and taste the sweetness of alcohol on them as you ponder what to say next. “His life might have ended too soon, but he knew that he was completely and truly loved until the very end, which is such a gift.”

Tears well up in Calliope’s eyes, and she dabs at them with a napkin grabbed hastily from the table. “Thank you,” she chokes out. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Ah, now you’re gonna go and make me cry too. Can I hug you?”

You always, always ask for permission before hugging her or touching her. She doesn’t seem to mind anymore when friends do it without asking, but you can’t break yourself of the habit.

Not after seeing what you saw the night that you met her.

She doesn’t give you an answer in the form of words. Instead, she simply falls into your arms, both of you clinging to the other.

From behind you, Ethan whispers, “Uh, are we interrupting something?”

•••

Evie has a date tonight and is naturally freaking out about it. She doesn’t know what to wear, she doesn’t know what she’s going to say, she doesn’t know if she’s even going to like the girl. Though you can provide her with all of the moral support in the world, there’s only one problem that you can currently help her with, which is how she ends up rifling furiously through your closet on a random Wednesday night.

You and Calliope sit on your bed, watching as Evie grabs different outfits and either critiques them herself or holds them up for you to do so. This is a tried-and-true routine for you, but Calliope’s experiencing the joys of helping a friend in need pick out a first date outfit for the first time. As a result, she puts far more thought into her responses when Evie asks for an opinion.

“You know, I believe I may have just the shirt for you in my room,” Calliope says after the outfit rejections have reached double digits. “Come.”

Calliope has truly made her room her own in the almost two months that she’s lived here, which makes you so happy to see. She’s decorated with items found antiquing (Calliope always manages to come out of an antique store with a haul—you think it's her superpower), and her room has an actual personality now.

She goes to her closet and begins searching through it before finding what she’s looking for; a white blouse with bell sleeves and delicate embroidering along the cuffs and collar. It’s beautiful, and exactly what Evie was looking for. Her attention, however, is drawn to something else in the closet, and she grabs at one of the hangers after approving Calliope’s choice. To your surprise, Evie comes up holding a cream-colored, silk nightgown.

“Wait, Cal, you still have the nightgown you were wearing the night you got away?” you ask.

It would be cruel to say anything more than the most vague descriptions regarding Calliope’s imprisonment. Nobody particularly wanted to remind her of that dark time in her life, so great care was taken to make it the least bit triggering as possible when it needed to be brought up.

She nods.

“Why?”

Calliope thinks about that for a moment. “I am not sure, to be honest. I certainly do not want to keep a relic of such a terrible time, but throwing it away does not feel…right.”

Evie perks up. “Ooh, y’know what we should do? We should burn that bitch!”

Calliope looks perturbed. “I thought you said that he is still in a mental hospital? Besides, I believe that immolation is still a crime.”

You and Evie both laugh when you realize that Calliope thought she was talking about Madoc.

“Not that bitch, though you’re giving me great ideas. I meant that we should burn the dress. I saw it on TikTok; these friends did a ‘burn and release’ ritual. They had a fire going in their backyard, and they all wrote down and talked about things that they wanted to release before burning it and physically releasing themselves of that. It looks like it’s super empowering, and it might give you the closure that it seems like you’re looking for.”

She doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that she’s intrigued.

“We’d participate, too,” you chime in, Evie nodding along with you. “I think we all have things we want to burn so that we can give ourselves permission to move on.”

“I would like that, I think.”

Evie smiles. “Perfect. Leave it to me.”

It only takes Evie a couple of days to coordinate everything. Her parents live just outside of town, and they happily offer up their backyard to their daughter and her group of friends. When you and Calliope arrive, there’s already a fire pit set up with a ring of camping chairs surrounding it. Kiara waves from one of the chairs, a bag of marshmallows sitting in her lap, as Evie works at getting the fire going.

“Yay, you made it!” she says when she can finally trust the fire to not go out the moment she looks away from it.

Calliope nods graciously. “Thank you for hosting us this evening.”

“You’re so formal sometimes! If anything, I should be the one thanking you for going along with my crazy idea.”

“I do not think it is crazy at all,” Calliope assures.

“We’ll see, won’t we? Anyways, pens and paper are over in the empty chair next to Kiara, and there will be drinks and snacks momentarily.” Evie turns to you. “Wanna help me grab said drinks and snacks? I need an extra set of hands.”

After helping Evie with procuring and setting out a few bottles of wine, plastic cups, and a bunch of different snacks, the four of you each pick up a pen and paper and begin to write. Calliope writes furiously, her pen seeming to fly over the paper as she jots down her thoughts, and is done first as a result. The rest of you take a bit longer to write, needing to stop and think about what you want to put down before you do so.

In a group chat, you, Kiara, and Evie had decided that one of you would automatically go first, to make Calliope feel comfortable about participating. When you’ve all finished writing, Kiara stands and clears her throat.

“Well, guess I’m first up,” she says.

In hindsight, you should have guessed how emotional a night of talking about things that you need to release and then burning them as a physical manifestation would be. Still, the teary eyes from everybody when Kiara finishes reading her letter to her ex-best friend and tosses it, along with a small box of mementos, into the fire catch you off-guard. Though you said that everybody had things that they needed to release the night that Evie first brought this up, you just didn’t realize that everyone was carrying their own burdens that, to them, are just as heavy as Calliope’s is to her.

You volunteer to go next, reading about how you release all of the expectations that you’ve had about your life and where it’s meant to go. Even before Calliope arrived in your life, you struggled with the idea that your life was not going according to the plan that you had in mind. You weren’t hitting milestones that you had plotted out, and your life “schedule” kept imploding time and time again. Now, you hope to be rid of that, and the constant feeling that you’re failing yourself and your life.

As you watch the paper burn in the flames, you try to convince yourself that all of those feelings are burning along with it.

Evie follows, with a big “fuck you” to her biological dad, who she recently found out only tried to form a relationship with her so that he could get money from her. It’s such a terrible situation, and though she’s handled it with her classic brand of humor, you can all see the hurt that she carries with her. Her letter is funny and biting and makes you all laugh, but she’s openly crying by the time she tosses it into the fire, and she gets a long hug from each of you after.

Finally, it’s Calliope’s turn, and she takes a long moment to stand. She’s been holding your hand since you finished reading her letter, and you give her a comforting squeeze before letting go so she can properly hold the letter. After taking a deep breath, she looks around the fire at the encouraging faces before her before she begins.

“I have often lived my life in the service of others, though most of the time, it was something that I willingly and happily did. That choice was removed from me when I was stolen from my home and bound to a truly vile and horrid man. He took everything from me. My thoughts, my inspiration, my—” Calliope’s voice breaks. “My body. Nothing was mine anymore, and I was told that that was how it should be, that it was the natural order of the world. He beat me down, physically and emotionally, to the point where I started to believe it.

“Though I had long since lost hope, I prayed for some sort of salvation, and I prayed to whomever I could think of. Nobody answered, either because they could not or would not, and I believed myself truly alone. Eventually, my former lover, Morpheus, was the only one who could, or would, help me, and even then, there was only so much that he could do. I do not fault him for that, because he did the most that was possible for him to do.

“And then one day, somebody knocked on the door of my prison and demanded their keys back.” She looks at you with a wobbly smile, and you sniffle in an attempt to hold back tears. “I know not why that was the tipping point for my captor, and frankly, nor do I care. He threw me out like trash, but I was not really in a place to question a gift such as this. And it truly has been a gift for me. In the two months since I escaped captivity, I have been able to heal, slowly but surely, even though I did not think such a thing was possible. I have found my laugh once more. I am free to do whatever I want, whenever I want. To sit in the sun, or read a book, or be with my friends.”

Calliope picks up the nightgown from where it sat next to her chair. “With this, I release every last hold that my captivity has had on me. From now on, when I think about that time, I shall think about survival, and how I refused to be kept down. I am free, and I shall remain forever free.”

She tosses the dress and the letter into the fire, watching intently as the flames catch the fabric and begin to work through it. Then, she laughs. Her laugh is beautiful and like the peals of bells, and it’s infectious too. Soon you’re all laughing, and you all have the same idea to hug Calliope. It turns into a group hug, the four of you laughing and hugging and watching as the smoke of the fire carries away that which you do not want to carry with you any longer.

•••

Calliope takes her time getting out of the car when you arrive back home, still basking in the euphoria of emotional release. When she turns to look at you, you already know what she’s going to say.

“Go in without me.” She sighs happily and looks up at the moon. “I wish to remain outside for a moment longer.”

You squeeze her shoulder before letting go. “Alright. The door’ll be unlocked whenever you decide you’re finished.”

You hum while unlocking the door, kicking your shoes off and hearing them thump against the wall of the entryway. Fumbling, you curse under your breath as you try to find the light switch—really, you’d think that after living here for almost a year, you’d be able to turn the lights on on the first try.

Light finally floods the room, and your humming resumes as you head into the kitchen to grab a drink. There’s a chill in the air, more figurative than literal, that causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your heartbeat quickens as you remove a glass from the cabinet, like your reflexes are trying to warn you of some unseen danger. Nervously, you hum a little louder while filling your glass up in the hopes that you’ll feel better.

You don’t. How could you, when you look over the kitchen island into the living room and see a figure standing silhouetted against the back door? In fact, you feel much worse than nervous; now, you’re scared out of your wits, enough so that you scream upon realizing that there’s actually a man in your home, a man who is most definitely not supposed to be here.

You scream.

“Hello.”

The man’s voice is deep, deeper than you think you’ve ever heard before. If he wasn’t currently in the act of breaking into your home, you’d think about how nice of a voice it is. Right now, it’s simply disturbing.

His eyes seem to twinkle in the darkness before he takes a step toward you, thus putting himself in the light. He’s paler than any living being you’ve ever seen, with long, unkempt black hair and cold blue eyes that seem like they can tell everything about you just from looking at you. He’s dressed in all black, with a long black coat completing his ensemble.

He’s not human, that much you’re sure of. You’ve spent enough time around Calliope in the past couple of months to guess that she is something more, and this stranger is the same. Power radiates off of him in waves, the same as it does with Calliope. Both are ethereally, sharply beautiful, in a way that lets lesser beings know that these are the true apex predators.

Even though it probably won’t help (now that you have the barest idea of what you’re dealing with), you pick up a kitchen knife from the dish rack and brandish it in front of you, thankful that you had cut up an apple last night and thus had needed your largest knife to do so.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He doesn’t move, choosing instead to just keep staring at you with those piercing eyes. You come out from behind the island, still holding the knife towards him.

“Seriously, leave or I’m calling the cops,” you threaten, pulling your phone out of your pocket with your free hand.

This decision quickly has the situation going from bad to worse. The man seems to cross the entire room in a single step before slamming you against the wall, one hand wrapped dangerously tight around your throat. You gasp at the sudden violence, as well as the strength that he possesses under his lean figure, and both the knife and the phone fall from your hands as you try to figure out what to do.

“Be quiet, mortal,” he spits venomously, his hand flexing around your throat. You attempt to grab at his hand to get him off of you, but he doesn’t budge. When you try to kick at him, he just leans more of his weight against you and renders you virtually immobile. “You are keeping a woman here, against her will. You will release her immediately, or suffer the most dire of consequences.”

“What? No, I’m not!” you argue.

Is he talking about Calliope? If so, he’s about two months too late in coming to her rescue. The only one that was holding her against her will was Ric Madoc, and he’s facing his own set of consequences for what he did.

Speak of the devil. Calliope chooses this moment to come in from her nighttime sojourn. You and your attacker both stare at the door as Calliope enters the apartment. She’s humming, much as you had when you first came in, completely in her own little world.

“Cal!” you cry out helplessly in an attempt to warn her, the only sound you can make before the man’s hand tightens again and cuts off all but a bit of your air supply. If given the chance, you’re not sure if you would tell her to run or ask for her help.

She takes stock of the situation before her with calculated eyes. Instead of surprise, shock, or fear, Calliope just looks…angry. Her bag drops to the floor next to her feet, and she makes sure to shut and lock the door behind her.

“Let her go, Oneiros,” Calliope commands, her hand landing on his shoulder.

Wait, Calliope knows him? Internally, you chastise yourself; obviously, she knows him, she called him by name! Still, you find yourself confused. She hasn’t mentioned having any contacts in the area. In fact, you distinctly remember her saying that she had “nobody” that first night you met her.

The intruder—Oneiros, apparently—does as Calliope asks, and you slide to the floor without his interference keeping you upright. Calliope slides down with you, landing on her knees in front of you as she looks you over with her big, brown eyes.

“Are you alright?” she asks, using her thumbs to wipe away your tears, tears that you weren’t aware you were shedding.

You nod. “I–I think so.”

Despite your reassurance, your hand goes to your throat, and you try to rub away the soreness that’s already settling beneath the skin. When she begins to rub her hands up and down your arms, you realize that you’re shaking violently. Calliope stands and briefly leaves the room, leaving you and Oneiros in awkward silence until she returns with a blanket, which she gently wraps around you.

After she’s completed this task, Calliope wheels around to point accusingly at the man. “You are a fool, and you allow yourself to act without first thinking far too often.”

“Calliope–” he tries to interrupt, but Calliope shakes her head.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

He scowls. “You called for me again, did you not?”

“I did no such thing!”

“Really?” he questions with a raised eyebrow. “You did not write my name down prior to burning it?”

Calliope falls silent, because apparently that’s exactly what she did.

“I thought that what I had done to Richard Madoc worked, Calliope. Why did you not come to me sooner to tell me that he had sold you off instead?”

“Nothing of the sort has happened!”

“Then how did you end up bound to yet another mortal?”

“It is not what it looks like, Morpheus.”

“Explain it to me, then,” he pleads.

As the two continue to bicker above you, you feel increasingly like you’re interrupting in your own home. You shift uncomfortably, and Oneiros—Morpheus? Seriously, how many names does this guy have?—turns his sharp gaze upon you.

“You. How did you come to bind the Muse Calliope? What spell have you used to bewitch her?” He demands answers that you don’t have, and your shaking becomes worse under the full brunt of his stare.

“What?” You scramble to your feet so that you can at least pretend to be on the same ground as the two others here. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, let us sit down and discuss this civilly,” Calliope interrupts, gesturing both of you towards the living room.

After a moment of consideration, Oneiros/Morpheus nods tersely and walks in the direction that Calliope had pointed as though this is his home and not yours. You try to get your legs to move, but they steadfastly remain stuck to the spot you’re standing in. Calliope notices this and loops her arm through yours before gently guiding you into the living room.

“Why did he call you a Muse?” you whisper to her.

She presses her lips together in a thin line. “I will give you answers, I promise. It is…complicated.”

Though you’re not exactly satisfied by this answer, you trust Calliope, so you nod and silently agree to wait.

You don’t have to wait for long. Once everybody is seated (you in the chair perpendicular to the couch, with Oneiros/Morpheus on the couch and Calliope sitting next to him while simultaneously acting as a buffer between you), Calliope takes a deep breath and begins to explain everything. About who, and what, she is, how she came to be bound by a writer named Erasmus Fry, and how she was basically bartered for by Ric Madoc. She explains what they wanted from her, and she explains, unflinchingly, what they did to her to get it. Though it’s horrific, you listen to all of it. After all, if she’s willing to give, it’s only fair that you be open to receiving.

Calliope’s words seem to hang in the air long after she’s finished. The three of you sit in silence; Oneiros/Morpheus with a stony expression, you crying (you think you’ve cried more today than you’ve cried in a long, long time), and Calliope waiting calmly for you both to digest what she’s said.

In the end, it’s you who speaks first. “So you’re a goddess?” you ask.

“A Muse, yes,” she says.

“Like, of the Greek variety.” You need to confirm this for some reason, even though you already know the answer.

She laughs. “Yes.”

“A literal Muse is my best friend and roommate?”

You think that you might be going into shock right now

Oneiros/Morpheus scoffs, and you glare at him. “You have something to say?”

“You say that Calliope is your best friend. Then why do you not set her free?”

“Set her free? She’s a person, she’s free to do whatever she wants.”

“No, she is not. Calliope is bound to you, by the old laws.”

“Morpheus,” Calliope says sharply, a warning, but the man continues.

“You are enslaving a goddess and calling it friendship.” The disgust is clear on his face. “How can there be any sort of friendship when she is unable to leave, to do anything, without your say? You have complete and utter control over her, and you force her to pretend that it isn’t so. This farce that you’ve concocted must end now. I implore you to free her before I am left with no choice but to take further action against you.”

The room begins to tilt, and you shake your head in disbelief. “No…”

“They don’t know, Morpheus!” Calliope snaps.

“Cal, you—”

You feel sick, and you genuinely think that you’re about to throw up. All this time, you thought you had helped to free her from her prison. Instead, she’s remained trapped, bound to you just like she was bound to Madoc and, as you’ve now learned, Erasmus Fry. These men took everything from an unwilling goddess, a Muse, and you’re basically no better than them.

Swallowing down the bile that rises in your throat does nothing, so you close your eyes to take a couple of deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to calm down. That doesn’t work either, and you rise shakily to your feet before rushing over to the trash can in the kitchen and throwing up the wine and snacks that you had eagerly partaken in at Evie’s.

It’s humiliating, doing something as base and human as retching in the presence of two godly creatures. Everything about this situation is humiliating, if you’re being honest with yourself. You’ve unknowingly extended Calliope’s incarceration and deluded both of you into believing that it was friendship. How could you be a part of such a heinous act? Truly, are you no better than Madoc?

When you’ve finally thrown up everything in your stomach and then some, you’re full-on sobbing as you clutch at the trash can. Your knees give out, but Calliope catches you as you fall to the ground and wraps you in her embrace. She soothes you and murmurs words of comfort as she runs a hand through your hair, letting you cry in her arms when it should be the other way around. You don’t deserve her comfort, you think to yourself.

Once you finally have enough breath in your lungs to be able to talk, you gasp out between hyperventilating, “I’m so sorry. I–I didn’t know, and if I did, I would have never–”

“Shh,” she hushes you, grabbing your hands in hers. “My sweet friend, you have done nothing wrong.”

“But I–”

“I am the one who chose not to tell you. I trusted you in the beginning, and I trust you now. You have not failed me or abused me, or been a captor to me. Do you hear me?” She holds your face in her hands to make you look at her, and she waits until you nod to hug you once more.

“How do I free you?” you ask her. “Please, let me free you.”

“You must say that she is free,” your uninvited guest speaks up, making you remember that there’s a whole other person here. “And mean it.”

“Calliope, you’re free. You’ve always been free,” you say immediately, looking at her earnestly and hoping that she can see in your eyes how sorry you are.

Nothing physically changes. No burst of light envelops her, and she doesn’t undergo any sort of transformation. Yet, something in the air changes and becomes lighter. That inner glow that Calliope’s always carried seems to beam brighter now. Her shoulders look less weighed down now, no longer burdened by her forced captivity.

“Thank you,” Calliope says profusely.

“Don’t do that,” you say, feeling sick all over again. “Don’t thank me for something I should have done the second that Madoc threw you at me. I should have been smarter, more observant than I was. God, you deserve so much more than anything I can ever begin to give you.”

She’s not happy about your self-deprecation, but you will not be the source of her rage tonight. No, as she helps you once more to stand, her anger lands squarely on the man who barged in here and turned everything on its head.

“Apologize. Now,” Calliope demands. “What you have done here tonight is completely unacceptable and a new low, even for you.”

After thinking for a moment, perhaps to consider if he did transgress against you, he nods and stands like some sort of gentleman to properly address you. “The lady Calliope is right. I have acted deplorably towards you this evening, when you have done nothing but offer shelter and companionship to one needing it. I sincerely apologize for the pain and anguish that I have caused you.”

You nod warily, still tucked into Calliope’s side. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

Truthfully, you do appreciate the apology. If he’s as powerful as you think he is, then he could have just as easily decided that you weren’t worth the breath it would take to form words, and that would be well within his right.

“Well, now that we’re all close to being on the same page here.” Calliope gestures to the man. “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realms, et cetera, et cetera.”

“You’re a god too?” you ask.

“Not a god. I am Endless, one of seven anthropomorphic personifications of natural forces. I am far older, and far more powerful, than any god, and will remain long after all of your gods are dead and gone,” Morpheus explains.

You try to ignore the fact that one of the most powerful beings in the universe is currently sitting in your living room, lest you start to have an existential crisis in front of him. Now that Calliope’s told you his name, it rings a bell. “Wait, is he your ex?”

Morpheus looks at you both in surprise. “You’ve told her about me?”

“Only tonight,” Calliope assures him. “When I…accidentally summoned you.”

The longer that you can think clearly without the threat of bodily harm, the more the puzzle pieces keep clicking into place for you. “He’s Orpheus’s dad, isn’t he?”

Calliope nods, and so does Morpheus, though he’s far more reluctant than she is. You don’t notice that, though, too caught up in your thoughts.

“Ha, Morpheus and Orpheus.” Maybe all of the crying has made you dehydrated, which in turn has left you a little delirious. That’s the only reason why you say this train of thought out loud. “What, if you had a daughter were you going to name her Alliope?”

Calliope snickers at that, though Morpheus doesn’t share her amusement. “His name fit him perfectly, even though it was quite the coincidence that it was one letter off from that of his father’s.”

“God, I’m so stupid,” you bemoan. “How did I not know you were a goddess? I literally said, ‘Oh cool, like the muse’ when you introduced yourself! You must have thought I was an idiot.”

“It is difficult for the mortal mind to comprehend that which it believes to be fake. To you, that was the only connection that you subconsciously deemed possible,” Morpheus explains. Though he does it to make you feel better, it feels a little patronizing when it comes from someone as powerful as him.

“I wish you would have told me. Did you think that I wouldn’t have freed you? Because I would have!”

“I know that,” Calliope says. “Truthfully, I…forgot to tell you.”

“You forgot?” Morpheus says in disbelief.

At the same time, you ask, “How the fuck do you forget to tell someone that you’re accidentally bound to them?”

“At first, I was scared. That it was a trap, that you would be worse than Madoc. Of course, that lasted about twenty minutes.”

“What made you realize I was different?”

She smiles. “When you told me that the doors only locked from the inside. You cared about my privacy and that I was feeling safe, and I figured that you had no clue about anything that had happened, or about who I was. From there, it just wasn’t something that I thought to bring up. I was too frightened to leave the apartment, and I had been cut off from the world for over sixty years. Frankly, the idea of going out without you terrified me. As I began to regain control of my life and heal, it just became something that I thought about less and less. You are my best and dearest friend, and we do everything together, so why would I think about a bond other than the one that formed naturally?”

It’s very sweet of her to say, but you still have questions. “So you were just going to continue to live like this?”

“I did not have a plan, but I suppose so. I was happy here, with you.”

“Okay, but what happened if I got married one day, or like, had kids?”

“I would just be the fun aunt that lived with you and your family?”

“Jesus Christ,” you groan before sitting up suddenly. “Wait, is Jesus Christ real too?”

Calliope and Morpheus share a look, and you’re suddenly frightened of the answer.

“No wait, don’t tell me, I don’t wanna know.”

You really, really don’t want to have an existential crisis until you can be alone in the comfort of your room.

Thankfully, Calliope and Morpheus take over the conversation from there, because you don’t think you have the mental capacity to try and further any conversation right now. They obviously have a lot to catch up on, since it seems like the last time they saw each other was when Calliope broke down and asked him for help escaping Madoc.

Instead, while they converse, you take a moment to zone out and try to process just what has happened in the past hour. The stranger that broke into your apartment turned out to be the powerful, eldritch nightmare king ex-husband to your roommate, who’s actually a goddess that was unintentionally bound to you. For reasons beyond your comprehension, he thought that she needed rescuing, and that you were the one that she needed rescuing from.

Your thoughts chase each other like a cyclone, and you try not to panic as you think about all of this. God, you need a drink right now.

When Morpheus and Calliope both rise, with Morpheus saying that he really must return to his kingdom, you rise with them. After all, how will you ever feel at ease if you don’t ask him what’s on your mind?

“Are we good now?” you ask. “Like, you’re not gonna hurt me or curse me? I promise I had no idea about any of this.”

“Yes, I know that now,” Morpheus says. “I will not harm you. If anything, I should be offering you a boon, for being such an immense help to one such as Calliope.”

“You owe me nothing. Neither of you do.”

Calliope leans in and kisses Morpheus on the cheek, so gently that you wonder if she even made contact. “Fare you well, Morpheus.”

He bows his head. “Goodbye.”

Between one blink and the next, he’s gone as though he was never here at all.

•••

That night, you dream, and for the first time, you’re aware of the fact that you’re dreaming.

You don’t know where you are, but it’s the greenest, lushest meadow you’ve ever seen. Wildflowers dance lazily in the breeze, and you can hear the low rush of a river behind the treeline. You’re tempted to lie down in the impossibly soft-looking grass and watch the clouds drift overhead, but before you can, you see them standing next to you.

Morpheus looks just as he did when you saw him in your apartment, only a lot less like he’s ready to murder you. The main difference is that he now sports robes fit for a king instead of his coat. His eyes, you also notice, are black pools of stars.

On the other hand, the Calliope you see before you is a complete departure from the Calliope you know and love. She’s wearing a white chiton that’s belted at the waist and her hair, which normally falls in curly waves, is braided back intricately. She shines, in a way that you’ve never seen, looking every bit the goddess that she is.

“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” you ask.

“Dreams are real,” Morpheus says with the slightest of smiles.

“Of course, my bad.”

Though it’s a picturesque dream, it’s stained with strokes of melancholy. On some level, you know what’s going to happen, and what Morpheus has brought you here for.

“You’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” you ask Calliope.

Selfishly, you’re hoping that she’ll say no. That she’ll tell you that your home is her home and where she’s meant to be. Yet even as you foolishly hope, you know that your ordinary apartment, your ordinary life, is no place for a goddess. No, she deserves far greater than that.

She smiles sadly, and that’s all the confirmation you need. “I think I must, at least temporarily. There is…much for me to do, back home on Olympus. I wish to reconnect with my sisters, for one. And though it is lofty of me, I wish to change the old laws so that we may never be enslaved on the whims of mortals ever again.”

“If anyone can change laws that are thousands of years old, it’s you.”

“Thank you…for everything these past two months. Truly, I do not know how I can ever properly thank you for what you have done for me.”

“You don’t have to do anything; just knowing that you’re safe and happy is enough for me. I’m so proud of you for taking your life back after everything you went through. You deserve all of the happiness and goodness that the world has to offer you.”

“I would not have been able to do it without you, you know. No matter how we came to know each other, I am glad that we did. You saved me.” She says it so earnestly, needing you to truly understand your impact on her recovery.

“You did that yourself, Cal. I was just along for the ride.”

“You have my utmost respect,” Morpheus says. “Not many would have taken in a stranger needing help from off the streets with nothing but the purest of intentions, and fewer still would have offered them friendship. Your bravery and kind heart shall not be forgotten.”

“You have my respect too, for what it’s worth.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Why?”

“Calliope told me that you didn’t end things on the best of terms. But still, when she called for help, you answered with barely a second thought, and did all you could to help.”

He stares for a moment before nodding and turning to gaze out across the meadow. To your unabashed delight, his cheeks tint a light lavender in embarrassment, unsure of how to take your compliment. You bite your lip to stifle your laugh and decide to not tease the King of Dreams…for now.

Though you’ve been putting it off, some sixth sense tells you that your time here is nearing an end. You turn to Calliope again, who already is trying desperately to keep her tears unshed. When you meet her eyes, she holds out her arms to hug you, and you gladly accept.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble.

Calliope kisses your forehead before pressing hers to yours affectionately. “I shall miss you as well, more than you can even imagine.”

“Call me if you need anything, okay? If–if your sisters are ganging up on you, or if you need someone to watch the best movies of the two-thousands with you, or if you’re missing going to karaoke with the gang. I’ll drop everything and go to Greece, just say the word.”

She laughs, the sound uninhibited and joyful. “I know you will.”

“Goodbye, Calliope." You have no choice but to finally, reluctantly say the words you've been dreading to say. If you weren't to do it now, you know you'd never let go of her.

Calliope pulls away just enough so that she can look you in the eye. “May fortune go with you, my sweetest friend.”

•••

Calliope’s gone when you wake up, her belongings the only sign that she even existed here in the first place. Though you cry, they’re not tears of sadness; rather, they’re happy tears, because how could you not be happy for Calliope? She’s found her freedom and the strength to return home, to try and make a better world for herself and her fellow gods and goddesses. Truly, this is all that you ever wanted for her.

On her nightstand sits a folded-up note, your name written on the front in Calliope’s ornate script. You open it up to read it, and when you finish, you hold it to your heart.

I will always be close by in your heart, as you will always be in mine. No distance can change that. Should you need me, you need only pray to me, and I shall hear you. Continue to make the world as bright as you.

-Calliope

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #the sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #calliope the sandman #calliope the sandman imagine

397 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 9 months

Note

HC for Nikolai, pls!! Love it how you describe him! ☀️

Masterlist

First of all, thank you so much since I wasn't sure, anyone would find my interpretation of this character pleasing in any way, because he is... not the nicest guy out there in some situations. I never wanted him to be a saint and I'm happy, we are together in this boat with you)

Second, please next time let me know if you need only sfw or also nsfw versions, because when it comes to CoD, especially to this man - I need to be restrained, otherwise things might happen... I'll try my best to behave this time.

TW: a bit of swearing.

So our guy is a fixer. No, wait, he is The Fixer. Nikolai comes from the culture and time, where everyone saw each other as a vital source of information, services or goods, that one day may help or even save them. That's why Nik always knows a guy, who knows a guy - it's just his nature.

What's in there for you? Let's say, you were deployed for a longer time, you've initially planned, and you are out of some medication, you normally buy in your home country. It's not a matter of life and death, but you would feel nicer, if you had it. But here is the problem: in this part of the globe, no one ever heard of such a medication. Of course you can always go to Price or even Ghost for help, and they will go above and beyond to get you what you need by the very next day. But if you need it in the next few hours? Yep, Nik is your man. He can get anything, anywhere, anytime.

That be said, his most significant weapon is not his body or friendship with Price, not his heli, not even Chimera - it's his tongue. He may never read a single book on psychology, but he feels, what and when to say to push all the buttons, he needs.

Believe me, you want to be on his side, when he starts talking, because he can be cold, manipulative and ruthless in negotiations with his enemies.

Nikolai tries to guard you from this side of him (no matter if you are just his squad mate or love of his life), but it's not always that easy. And if it happens so that his words hurt you in any way - he will feel disgusting. Guilt will torment him for a very long time, because Nik will be sure that no apology is enough.

Ok, before this gets too dark, let's talk about the other side of this skill of his. He loves to fluster you. It amuses him, how just a few words and an occasional touch can paint your pretty face red.

Can and will flirt with you just to see, where your borders are. Will start it in private, only to allow himself comments on the verge of flirting when the rest are around. He can't help it: panic, that he awakes in your eyes is too cute and endearing.

Of course, he will stop it right away, if he sees, you are really uncomfortable with such interactions. Nikolai wants to be a friend, not a terror.

But if you actually answer back? Buckle up, because Nikolai is not the one to back away easily. His commentaries will become more explicit to the point, where he leans over your ear for just a couple of seconds, but you are suffocated by the heat that hit your head for the next hour.

Don't even try to make him blush and lose his concentration in return. Or try, but be ready to fail. Your fingers tucked under his shirt, wide grin accompanying some frivolous joke leaving your lips, all for the sake of making him flustered? Won't work. All you are going to get is a smirk and a sly squint. "Go on, show your pilot, what you have on your mind."

Nik will notice and remember every reaction on his words and actions. Btw, let's hope you don't have a thing for accents, because he may play it cool, be he definitely will remember, how you hold your breath for a short moment every time you hear his voice right above your ear.

Your personal space is a relative concept to Nikolai. He respects it, but keeps changing his opinion on how wide it is, sorry.

One of the best, most loyal friends, you could ever wish for. Always on your side, even if you are wrong.

If anyone hurts his friends and loved ones - Nikolai doesn't give a flying f*ck about laws or moralities. If anything endangers you - it is to be dealt with, even eliminated. If anyone takes you from him?.. Well, they better have a d*mn army ready.

Because Nikolai not only pulls his many strings and has the support of war heroes like Price - Nik may come after his enemies with the Chimera. And this is where things might really get sinister, since... Not all Chimera mercs are famous for their compassion and law-obidience.

Putting it in a very light wording: those who manage to survive an encounter with this organization will soon envy those who did not see their next dawn. And Nik won't hold himself or his men back until you are safe in his hands again.

I don't want to end on a sad note, so here are random fluff hcs.

Of course Nikolai can take 'no' as an answer, but if you are that 'unsure, need a bit convincing' type, he'll gladly proceed. You will be surrounded by his attention and small manifestations of care.

Expect to be constantly wrapped in his jacket if you accidentally mention that you're freezing in a helicopter.

Little presents, knick-knacks from all over the world. But there is a story behind every single one. A story, he whispers to you, after he dragged you to a far table, away from prying eyes.

Light touches. Not suggestive ones, but comforting. Because despite his jokes and flirting, he offers not only his body - most of all, he wants to share his warmth with you.

He loves to make you laugh and will develop inner jokes with you.

If you feel, you are slowly but surely falling for him - make sure to not tell anything to Price, because those two have no secrets between them.

Nikolai will cook for you every time you visit him. Not because his food is something worth of a Michelin restaurant, it's just an old habit: guests must be fed. Don't forget, he comes from a place, where people often had to cook a full 2-3 course lunch from a scrap, so feeding you is not a challenge for this guy, even if you show up at his door at 3 am.

Nikolai will invite you for walks in the forest. In summer and spring, you can agree without worries. In autumn and winter, it is better to be careful. Early autumn is the mushroom picking season (then your walk can drag on for hours). Winter... Do you feel safe in a forest covered with snow with a big Russian guy? Do you? Well, I have 2 words for you: snowball fights.

Don't blame me for not warning you, when you end up with snow in every single piece of your clothes and Nik hovering over you, not letting you rise from a snow pile. Of course, he'll help you get dry, warm and cozy afterward.

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #mw2 fanfic #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #nikolai x you #nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai headcanons #cod headcanons

288 notes · View notes

stardewstardropthoughts · 9 months

Note

Harvey is my go to bachelor in stardew but I've been thinking...

What if you break up/divorce him and start avoiding him, but one day, you pass out in the mines (literally on the verge of death) and have to be rushed to his clinic. </3

The pure heartbreak

I'm so sorry this is written like absolute garbage because it's been so long and I genuinely might rewrite this one at some point lmao but for now I offer this 💙

Content warnings: this one's not written as well as I would like, angst, No comfort, near death, hospital stuff terribly written also, gender neutral reader, all my hospital knowledge is from grey's anatomy I'm so sorry 😂

When you almost die in the mines and Harvey has to take care of you after you broke up with him

You never gave harvey an explanation as to why you broke up with him, it was something you were dealing with on your own and you thought youd only drag him down with you so you decided to break it off with him

You had been avoiding him around town, opting to avoid your scheduled wellness checks and see a doctor in the next town, which hurt harveys feelings lowkey

He still desperately loves you, hes been blaming himself for the breakup, worried he was too clingy or too overbearing and that you felt suffocated, but you wouldnt talk to him, so he couldnt ask the questions he had

Next thing he knew it was around midnight, someone was pounding on the door to the clinic and harvey almost didnt answer, but decided it was probably important given the time and how loud they were being

Harveys immediately panicking when he sees you, looking rather lifeless in Demetrius's arms. "I found them just inside the mines like this, i dont know what happened but i thought id best bring them to you" he explained to harvey who was immediately thanking him, directing him to place you on a hospital bed

"Come on, your gonna be okay, dont die on me now sweetheart" harvey mumbles to himself as he assesses your injuries, his heart is breaking at the sight, your barely breathing, pulse slow and weak, he has to drain blood from your lungs, after many hours of work your stable, still unconscious but stable

Harvey had a whole panic attack as he sits by your bedside, he wouldnt leave you if his life deoended on it at this moment, "your going to be alright, i cant lose you again my love" he mumbles softly as he holds one of your hands gently, his eyes are puffy and red from crying

When you wake up hours later your confused and disoriented, looking around the room, your eyes land on harvey, whos looking at you nervously "you were badly injured, Demetrius carried you here" he explained softly, gently squeezing your hand "you....i know i have no right to ask you to stay out of the mines, but please, be more careful, you could have died" he manages to say through a tight knot in his throat at the thought

"Im sorry" you manage to say, though your voice is strained, harvey looks like an absolute wreck and you feel horrid "dont apologize, your alive love, thats all i could ask for" he whispers quietly as he squeezes your hand

"I...." You begin trying to explain to him why you broke up with him to begin with, but the words dont seem to want to come out of your mouth, "rest" harvey says, getting up to check your vitals and make sure your improving before leaving the room, he needs a moment to compose himself from his near continuous break down

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #stardew harvey #stardew angst #sdv angst #sdv harvey

230 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

Note

modern!steve harrington + mine cause i just KNOW he’d love that song and daydream about a future with his girl listening to it 😭💜

mine (steve's version)

warnings: hurt/comfort, my fingers slipped and put angst

wc: 2.1k+

an: okay i completely goofed here and made this far angstier than you wanted, and did not realize until AFTER it was done. 😭 i'm gonna apply the same logic as miss swift does with surprise songs - since i technically messed up, if you'd like a redo with more sweetness, let me know and i've got you haha 😭 i also just processed you wanted him to listen to the song and that image broke my brain so basically what i'm saying is this one will definitely get a redo haha sorry nonnie <3

It had all started over a stupid fight. A fight that he didn’t even recall how it had started. That’s how stupid it had been.

Steve had been tired, coming home from a long shift at the diner. It had been a shit show for the entirety of the twelve hours that Steve had been there, instantly making him regret pulling a double to cover one of his coworkers who called claiming they had a fever, but that he’d definitely seen posting on their stories about being out for drinks very late the night before. But he wasn’t going to tell his boss that — he’d been there. One too many beers on one of his rare free nights with friends, and he too would call out, claiming something along the lines of food poisoning.

He wasn’t fully lying. That much alcohol probably had poisoned him considering the way he felt like death the next morning.

The coworker wasn’t what had him in a sour mood, though. Nor was it the one elderly couple that had kept trying to have terribly long conversations with him when he knew he had food to run. Nor was it that obnoxiously large group of preteens that seemed to have no self awareness as they’d reeked absolute havoc on the diner for the final hour before closing. No, none of that really phased Steve anymore — he was just tired. He was tired, a bit too easily irritated, and just wanted to sleep.

His plans for the night had been crawling into bed with you, watching some TV show or movie he wouldn’t pay attention to with his head in your lap as your fingers would scratch soothingly at his scalp. His plans for the night didn’t include this fight. If he could have stopped, God only knows he would have.

“They’re going to shut off the water, Steve,” you stress, on the verge of tears at this point. Steve didn’t know if they were from stress, exasperation with him, or if you were hurting from how flippant he’d been since he walked through the door. Regardless, it didn’t matter; seeing you misty-eyed twisted the knife in his chest all the same, “What the fuck are we going to do if they do that? This isn’t something to talk about tomorrow.”

“They’re not going to turn it off tonight!” he shouts right back at you, throwing his hands into the air in defeat, “Fuck, I- what do you want me to do about it? What can I do about it tonight?”

You snap your mouth shut at that, lips pressed tightly to avoid any quivering.

“I just worked twelve fucking hours, I just wanted to come home and relax, I’m not in the mood-“

“You’re never in the mood,” you flatly interrupt him, tone a stark contrast to all the overwhelming emotions prominent on your face. Your voice doesn’t even waver — he knows that whatever you’re about to say, it’s been on your mind a while, “It’s always we’ll talk about this tomorrow, or we’ll figure it out. But we never talk about it. We never figure it out, Steve. We can’t just- You don’t think I’m tired, too?”

His heart breaks a little. You’re right. You’re standing there, still in your scrubs from your own twelve hour shift, and fuck, you’re right.

Things hadn’t ever been easy. Back in high school, there had been the issue of Steve’s parents. After graduation, it had been the terrible decisions of what now. When you two had decided to pack up and get the Hell out of town, it had been the stress of finally dealing with all the uncertainty, all while desperately trying to keep afloat amongst stacks of bills and adult responsibilities neither of you had expected to drown in. Things had never been easy, but Steve didn’t care about easy — he just cared that you’d always been there, by his side, on his team.

Right now, it didn’t feel like you and him versus the world. For the first time, it feels like there’s only you two in the boxing ring.

“This isn’t a competition, we’re… we’re supposed to be on the same side.”

There it was — your voice cracks, and the moment the first tear falls from your eyes, you’re quick to reach up and swipe it away, pretending it never happened. Pretending that one tear wasn’t ripping Steve apart from the inside out.

“It’s not a competition! But Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m suffocating-“

“I’m suffocating you?” the tears are falling more freely, and you make no move to erase them.

That’s not what he meant. At all. He’s only making it all worse. So, so much worse.

“I-“ he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to make this better.

He doesn’t know how to fix this.

In an instant, his hands go from threading and angrily tugging at his hair to flaring at his side as he suddenly walks sharply down the hallway. He’s making a beeline for your shared bedroom, doing the only thing he can think of to fix this for you. For tonight, at least.

You’re quick to follow, only two steps behind him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m-“ he pauses, yanking a random drawer open to the dresser, finding himself staring at a pile of your clothes rather than his own. He huffs through frustration and his own building tears, “I’m gonna stay at Eds’ tonight. Give you some space.”

“Give me space?” you laugh back in disbelief, not daring to take any more steps closer to him, “You’re the one who’s being suffocated-“

“You’re not suffocating me,” he stops all movement, hand still on the knob of his drawer. He turns to you suddenly, a new found confidence, “That’s- That’s not what I meant, okay?”

He can’t make this right, but he can’t leave you thinking that’s what he meant. You could never suffocate him — and even if you tried, he’d find it to be the most heavenly way to die. But you didn’t know that, not in this moment, and that was what was currently killing him.

You take a deep breath, one step forward, before asking quietly, “What did you mean, then?”

One last chance. An opportunity to make this right.

“You could never suffocate me,” all the shouting and the frustration has vanished, only softness and hurt left in their places, “Ever. Don’t you ever think for one moment that it’s you. It’s not, okay? I love you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, you are-“ he chokes up, looking into your glossy eyes. He can still recall the way he felt all those years ago when they’d first laid eyes on him. He’s memorized the way it felt, because every time you look at him, it still manages to feel like the very first time, “You are everything to me. You’re- Fuck, honey, you’re my entire future. When I think about the future, all I think about is you.”

You take another step forward. Steve’s own tears now track his own face, his heart racing painfully.

“I love you so fucking much, it’s crazy. And I just- I feel like I’m fucking all of this up. You deserve more than this, and I try to give it to you, but I can’t-“

“That doesn’t all fall on you, Steve,” your hands shake as you lift them, finally close enough to touch him. Each palm rests delicately on his chest and you can’t look him in the eyes, “I don’t want you for your money. Never have, never will.”

He laughs wetly. You’ve more than proven that. When his parents cut him off completely, you hadn’t blinked an eye.

“I want you because I love you. I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington. Okay? I’m so in love with you, I followed you across the goddamn country.”

“Eddie and Robin did too, to be fair,” he reminds you, almost jokingly. All the tension from the fight is quickly fading. His hand drops from the drawer.

“They did, but I guarantee I love you more than them,” you scrunch your nose, almost grimacing before adding, “No offense to them, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoes, slowly reaching up and holding your hands that had been pressed to his chest. You don’t pull back.

“I’m just- it’s stressful. We’re both stressed. Neither of us were prepared for this,” you look him desperately in his eyes, “I meant what I said, though. This isn’t me versus you — I never want it to be us fighting each other. It’s always us versus the problem, okay?”

He nods when you wait patiently for his response, “Okay.”

“And I want you here,” you continue, “I want you here, in our home and in our bed. I want you here, even screaming back and forth with me, as long as you’re here. With me. Go to bed mad at me, I don’t care. Just… don’t walk away.”

You smile through the residual tears, squeezing his hands that hold yours.

Steve thinks about all the examples of love he’d ever been shown. His parents, in a castle of ice. The way the fights always ended in separate rooms, sometimes separate houses. His father storming out to spend the night in a hotel rather than having to be around his mother a second longer. He remembers the way that even with an abundance of money, they were never happy. They never loved each other. A marriage of convenience rather than love. Lasting only out of obligation, not dedication.

He didn’t want that with you. He couldn’t ever imagine what the two of you have being reduced to that.

When he looks at you, all he can see is happiness. All he can feel is that love bursting from his chest. Images of the two of you by Lover’s Lake, the way the waves of the lake had sent shattered and sparkling flares of light across your cheeks as you’d laughed at him as if he was the funniest person in the entire world. All the nights spent over the phone, talking about nothing and everything, desperate to just fall asleep to the sound of each other’s voices. The ridiculous nerves he’d felt on the first date, King Steve shaking at the thought of putting his arm around you because for the first time, he was truly scared of fucking this up.

You made him a better man. You saw everything inside of him that was broken, that he had spent so long trying to hide, and you’d simply sat down beside him with glue in hand, prepared to spend as much time as he needed to piece it all back together.

Go to bed mad at me, I don’t care. Just… don’t walk away.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart,” he finally sighs. Your face starts to fall, but he’s quick to clarify, “I can’t go to bed mad at you. Ever. And we can fight, us versus the problem like you said, all we want but… I don’t want to go to bed mad. I don’t want… I don’t want that. Whenever my head hits that shitty pillow every night,” you both break to laugh, because God, you both really did need new pillows (and a mattress, if you were being honest), “All I want to know is that you’re mine and I’m yours. Sound fair?”

You smile, and it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. It makes all the long shifts worth it as you nod slowly, “Sounds fair to me.”

“Good,” he guides the two of you to the center of the room before he drops your hands from his, sighing and letting his shoulders finally drop, “Then in that case, I’m staying.”

Even with crying tears on your cheeks, you’re still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. You’re still the best thing Steve Harrington has ever had the privilege of calling his, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So if we’re gonna fight — let’s fight, baby.”

He puts his fists up comically, and you only giggle and grab at them, shaking your head.

“I think we've fought enough for one night,” you mumble, bringing one fist to your mouth, kissing each of his knuckles gently.

Once you’ve placed your final kiss, he quickly placed the hand beneath your chin, lifting your lips to his. He kisses you in quick succession, and between each one, he repeats the sincerest I’m sorry he can muster.

He only stops once you’re smiling too wide for him to continue.

After his lips leave yours one last time, pulling back slowly as he savors it and you, he finally sighs, “I am curious, though — what the Hell are we going to do if they do shut off the water?”

You shrug, “Like you said, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Or we can use Eddie and Robin’s shower.”

As it turns out, Steve Harrington was wrong — when it comes to you, he can always fix things.

"brace myself for the goodbye, 'cause it's all i've ever known. then you took me by surprise, you said 'i'll never leave you alone'."

#speak now (ghost's version)#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #steve harrington

179 notes · View notes

eluxcastar · 1 year

Text

Soft Dottore with his cold assistant 👀

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: observation in snezhnaya is always a pain, and it's not out of character for you to underestimate how thick a coat you'll need while outside during the winter

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, more soft dottore content, possibly ooc, I did not proofread a word of this but I noticed I wrote goat once instead of coat sorry if that happens again 😭

୨୧﹑words :: 1072

atp I don't think I can function without fluffy scenarios (send help) I wrote this while David Hobson was allowing Christmas to start with The Holy City (I don't even celebrate Christmas 💀) it's so late rn Merry Christmas Dottore nation ❤️

you hate these kinds of researching days, the dead middle of Snezhnayan winter when the Doctor decides there's an urgent sample he has to collect, something to study, today it's something he simply wants to observe - the functions of an automaton Sandrone had given him to play with. he certainly was fulfilling the 'fun' part of that equation, dragging you out at the break of dawn just to see how this machine works in snowy climates. in his own words, it is to go while the snow is still falling. the early morning hours would provide more time, he could be meticulous without the threat of time and the dastardly sun looming over his head threatening to melt all of his snow.

you expected to stay inside all day considering the cold, not even thinking to grab your good coat as you left home, and now you shiver under only the cover of a coat far too thin for the job. the sky is dark, no sun out to warm you even slightly. that's your only problem with the dark, finding it easy to navigate with Dottore only a few steps ahead of you brimming with confidence in where he's going. you should've known better than to think Dottore would be bothered by the cold. he isn't. he's pointing out things he can already picking up even when you weren't even at the spot he wants to test it.

you're not sure he can notice your shivering as you follow behind him. you wish you were with just about anyone else right about now, preferably one who wouldn't mind you standing close and cuddling up under their hopefully warm coat so that you could warm yourself right up with their body heat.

the Doctor would never allow such silly things, more importantly he'd scold you for your carelessness.

so you carry on until you reach the clearing, no less cold as when you first set out, though you have become somewhat numb to it. it doesn't help you at all. you sit down in a clear spot of snow while he sets his new toy down a small way away. he's fiddling away with that while you're fiddling with your coat, trying to find a way to cover all the cold spots where the air is making your skin prick with goosebumps. it's an impossible task.

your focus shifts at the sound of footsteps, the rustling of fabric coming from the same direction Dottore was in. you look up, thinking the Doctor must be coming to join you only to see him removing his coat. it takes you a moment to process the why and in that moment he's stopped right in front of you, coat bunched in his hands.

"Doctor--"

"You always forget to bring a proper coat." he places his coat over your shoulders, wrapping you quite snugly in it in fact, though you refrain from telling him that as you pull it taut around you in hopes of perhaps gleaning some extra warmth from it. it smells like him. it's like the warm hug you know you will never receive from him.

"Won't you be cold, Doctor?"

"You are on the verge of freezing to death. I'm surprised your teeth don't chatter." he says, a somewhat firm statement that shuts you up by pure accuracy as you didn't expect him to have noticed when you were tucked away just behind him the whole time. "For an assistant working toward the pursuit of knowledge, it makes me wonder how you don't ever learn."

there's a sense of embarrassment that settles in you as silence overwhelms the conversation, finding nothing that you could say in response that would disprove any of that-- inadvertently, you suppose that simply proves what he says. you don't learn. you bury your face in the fur lining of the collar. you recognise this coat as the one he wears to Harbinger meetings, as well as while he's out during the winters. it's quite a thick coat, you realise, perhaps explaining why he would take it out to what was only a field trip by comparison to your usual work.

you feel awkward as he takes a seat by your side, feeling cold in his place even when you're wrapped up in his coat and being practically insulated by it. his lack of covering is a lot more apparent now, sticking out like a sore thumb and it hits you that he likely knew the second he laid eyes on you in only a thin coat not made to withstand harsh winters that you were cold. it was obvious to you now.

as the minutes pass, you begin to realise you aren't staring at the automation like he instructed but at him, a wave of guilt overcoming you and you scoot closer to his side until you feel the warmth that radiates off of him as you part it to reach out for him.

"Doctor--"

"Are you still cold?" he remains unwavering in his focus on that machine, doing something you pay no mind to. whatever it is is mesmerising him, a state you've noticed happens most frequently when things work out, especially if they work out in a particularly interesting way. this looks like things are just working out though.

you shake your head, finding yourself easing back into the comfort his coat provides, "It's better," you add, "the wind isn't so bad."

you feel it again, the guilt that you felt taking his coat. it was the reason you had gotten closer at all. had he noticed that at all? you're hesitant to move again, wondering how-- if he would react if he was to catch you. knowing him he'd ignore it just to toy with you, even when he was watching you the whole time. he's distinctly mean in that way.

"Aren't you cold, Doctor?" you try to ask again, thinking he won't answer like last time. "We'll be out here for some time if it can keep that up." a brief glance to the automaton and you're not sure what exactly it's doing - likely the result of not looking at it for some time - but the way Dottore hums in agreement makes it sound as if he understands the sentiment. you make a good point it seems.

"We'll simply be forced to share it, since you didn't bring a coat of your own, silly little thing."

#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#the sillies are so cute #dottore #il dottore #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

502 notes · View notes

deliciousdefendorinternet · 4 days

Text

in Defence of Creek ( warning if your an Avid Creek Hater you may not want to read this 😂😂 )

youtube

ps. Branch will Hair strangle some guy he Barely knew who he didn't even care about for betraying them but doesn't do the same to his Jerkass Brothers who let him down his whole life 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️.

anyway onto the topic at hand 😂😂😂😂

Creek gets an unfair Rap in my opinion sure he technically betrayed the village but when you examine the story of the first film he literally had no other choice.

as there's no other scenario that didn't end with him being Horribly Eaten as soon as he was picked by Chef for Gristle Jr to eat and taken out of the cage his fate was sealed.

unlike the rest of the snack pack he didn't have the option of sitting around waiting on the off chance Poppy would Rescue them.

we see in the Betrayal scene he was literally in Gristle's mouth before he finally played the only card he could and said he'd do what ever they wanted him to do.

and from then on he was kept in Gristle's locket around his neck which I have to say was Horrible poor guy was stuffed in their with no space or light or even air given how tight it was.

and he was kept there until eventually being moved out of the locket and put into Chef's waist bag just before the snack pack got the Locket from Gristle and were then captured by Chef.

and from that point like Creek himself said there was literally nothing else he could do that wouldn't result in him being killed straight away by Chef.

this is what rubs me the wrong way about the movie trying to make him into a villain he has no real agency in the betrayal it'd be a little easier for me to Judge him.

if he was kept in the cage with the Rest of the Snack Pack so he had the option of just having faith in Poppy someone he claimed to care about.

coming to save them but instead he took the more cowardly action and offered to sell everyone out early on in order to save himself then I feel it'd work a little better.

but having him be plucked from the cage early on and literally only betray everyone when he was on the verge of being eaten just makes him a victim in my eyes.

like I'm sorry but he can't be blamed too much for anything he does at that point he's just a normal civilian who's life was put in danger by negligent leaders ( cough Peppy cough ).

he technically wasn't obligated to die then and there and the whole situation with him selling out the Village is a classic Trolley Problem sure its easy to Judge.

from the outside but when we're on the verge of being gruesomely murdered who's to say what each of us would do in the moment to stay alive.

basically its Chef's actions and she's the one to blame not Creek dude was a literal Hostage who had been kidnaped Humiliated by being shoved in a taco and sprinkled with spicy stuff.

and then nearly eaten and then crammed into a tiny locket for presumably Hours and then crammed into a waist bag like how is this guy not the victim here?

and some people do like to point to how he behaved about the whole thing telling Poppy he's doing it for her but I'm sorry that doesn't change anything in my eyes.

sure its an unusual reaction but its also an unusual situation and I see it more as him weakly attempting to justify it to himself since he does admit he wishes there was another way but is promptly reminded by Chef that there isn't.

his Reaction isn't Great but it doesn't change the situation and make him some pure evil person.

a little autistic maybe? given the weird response to an emotional situation he has but yeah it doesn't make him worse in my eyes.

basically to end things the film as well as the fandom that villainise him seem to basically be saying that he should have just laid down and accepted his gruesome fate the first time.

and the movie even ends on a cruel irony of still being eaten along with Chef.

which for Chef is ironic in a karmic way but for Creek its just kinda sad tbh so the film's saying his death was decided at the start and he's a villain for not accepting it the first time.

and as punishment he meets the same fate in the end anyway.

I thought this was a Trolls film not a Final Destination film lol.

anyway even tho its separate cannon I was Happy when he was Revealed to still be alive in TBGO sure I feel his Return could have been written way better.

but Regardless I'm Glad he's still alive he didn't deserve to die and also the movie cannon never contradicts the tv show cannon in Terms of Creek's survival.

so yeah he could very well still be alive in the movies as well sorry Haters 😅😅😅😅.

#Youtube #trolls #trolls creek #dreamworks trolls #trolls the beat goes on #trolls tbgo #trolls dreamworks #Trolls #Trolls Creek #Trolls The Beat Goes On #Trolls TBGO #trolls creek defence #sorry not sorry haters 😂😂😂😂

35 notes · View notes

kilikina34512 · 1 year

Text

No More, Please

It's the jaw clinching for me here. Life is crazy, and this is a month overdue, but it's finally here for all to read! I'm falling for this pairing and I'm going to start a series of them. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

Pairing: alpha!Bucky x omega!reader

Summary: Bucky endures over an hour of experiencing your ecstasy through the mate bond and it pushes him to his limit.

Warnings: A/B/O, alpha/omega, smut, dirty talk

Word Count: 935

Fuck this meeting and fuck the mate bond. This was the thought that was forefront in his mind as he suffered for a second hour in a row, cursing both of those things. His jaw was clinched tight as his fists curled up, working to hold himself together.

Just as you both had been on the sofa enjoying a round of heavy making out and petting, Steve had summoned Bucky to give his advice on a mission strategy they were trying to iron out. Bucky had told you he'd only be gone long enough to give his two cents and then he'd be back to finish what you two had started.

That had been two hours ago.

And an hour and a half ago, you'd decided to take matters into your own hands.

Thanks to the mate bond, Bucky could always feel the emotions of his omega, and vice versa. It was a connection he never closed unless he was on a mission, a choice he was suddenly debating have an exception to. This meeting was still going, Steve and Tony couldn't come to an agreement.

So he's sat there, for far longer than he'd ever want to, stiff and feeling the pleasure that you were experiencing. He started drowning out the meeting as he wondered if you were using the special dildo he'd ordered for you or if it was the battery-operated mate (as you called it) that was driving that teasing high through both of your bodies.

"'Mega," he whined under his breath. "No more, please"

He'd had enough of wondering and he was on edge. Bucky was sure just the gentlest of grazes against his shaft would have him spilling himself by now. His usual grumpy demeanor had gotten worse as a scowl had formed the longer he suffered wanting his mate, wanted to give her the pleasure she was taking for herself, and at this point, he was sure daggers were coming out of his death glare he had on the table in front of him.

Bucky shoved up and away, walking briskly out of the room despite Steve requesting him to come back, and made his way back to your shared living quarters.

The ex-assassin wasted no time once he was there to undo his pants as he turned the corner to your bedroom and froze. You were spread eagle in your nest as you moaned, eyes closed, the flesh-toned silicone version of your alpha's staff in hand, sliding in and out of you just the way Bucky wants to be.

If he hadn't been on the verge of losing control, he might've stood there in the doorway and watched the show you were unknowingly putting on for him.

But that wasn't happening.

Long strides had him crossing the room in a blink. Swiftly, he grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed. The sudden motion had your eyes open wide, a squeak escaping in surprise.

"Bucky-" you said startled, but you didn't get a chance to say more than his name as he pulled the silicone imitation and tossed it to the side before slamming completely into you. Fully seated inside your warmth, Bucky groaned happily, enjoying the feel for a second before the reminder that he'd been on edge reared its head aggressively.

Obscene moans filled the space as your alpha slammed into you repeatedly with none of the gentleness he usually showed you. "Can't help it, 'Mega," he growled. "Could feel you, need you, too long," he tried to explain. It'd been too much teasing him, too long since he'd been buried inside you that morning. He couldn't wait another moment to drown in the heat you created whenever you came together.

"More," you moaned as you raised your hips to meet each of his thrusts. "Alpha, please, more."

Bucky cursed under his breath as he raised your legs until your ankles rested against his shoulders and began pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping loud in between the cries of pleasure. You could feel his running his teeth and nipping down one calf and up another as he held your legs firm against him.

"Squeeze s'tight," your alpha praised as he felt your walls clench around him. God, he knew he couldn't last much longer. "'Gon finish 'side ya. Give ya ev'ry drop," he continued as he felt you begin to flutter around him, pulling him deeper inside you. "Wanted ya all meetin', drove ya alpha crazy."

Your hands clung to the sheets as you chanted a mixture of Bucky, Alpha, and knot as you got ready to fall into bliss as well. It was almost instant that you felt his knot slide right into you, shooting your pleasure straight into the stratosphere. Bucky gently pumped inside as he painted your walls, making sure to keep your pleasure at its peak as his knot stroked all the sensitive spots.

Neither of you were sure how long it was until Bucky was laid over you as you panted to catch your breaths. He was content to gather you up in his arms and carefully move you both to a more comfortable position to enjoy the closeness of being knotted to each other.

"Took you long enough to come to me," Bucky heard you snicker quietly. Make no mistake, Bucky knew you could be a little seductive temptress. It hadn't been long ago you'd tempted him with a green sweater and thigh highs that had his alpha side panting instantly after you.

He just didn't have it in him to scold you for it. He loved that about you.

He huffed out a chuckle. "Go to sleep 'Mega before I contemplate spanking that bottom."

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfic #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #alpha!bucky #omega!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #alpha/omega #bucky smut #kili stories

562 notes · View notes

jaozendry · 1 year

Text

"It's in the past, it's all over."

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: swearing, death, torture, trauma

Summary: You try to comfort Jason as he is having nightmares of his past trauma. Jason, as stubborn as ever, won't open up to anyone, not even you, his lover. This same cycle has been repeating since he came back to life. You tried everything, even therapy, and on this one night, you decide enough is enough: he needs to let his anger and sadness out and talk about it.

______________________________________________________________

It's 2 AM, you can't sleep because you hear screaming from the other room: It's Jason. He's having nightmares again. "...Bruce!... I'm here!... Please save me... Please... someone!"

"No... get away from me you son of a bitch!... Bruce is gonna get here... I know it!... No please... Get the fuck away!..."

The same cycle has been repeating every night ever since you moved out with him. You know of his past as Robin, his death and of the time he adopted the Red Hood persona, so you don't blame him. You tried the whole therapy process to make him talk about it; it ended up being a waste of money. Jason has always been the type of person to keep everything to himself, even his feelings. He won't even share his feelings to you: his lover. It took him forever for him to say "I love you" back. Even if you knew he did love you deep down, you always wanted to hear him say it out loud.

Even though it's two in the morning and you have work in a few hours, you decide to go comfort him. A cup of coffee will solve everything; what's more important to you is comforting Jason.

"Hey, Jason? It's me." you say as you knock the door to his room. No response. You decide to open up the door and see Jason cuddled up in his bed, whispering for help. As much as you think this is a bad idea, you decide to wake him up. While you run your hand through his curly hair carefully, he suddenly wakes up and grabs your arm very tightly, fury in his eyes. You try to break free, but he's got your arm firmly with a dead pan expression on his face.

"Oh, it's just you." he sighs, realizing who he was holding. He lets go of your arm, gently touching it, fearful that he might’ve hurt you.

As he stands up from his bed, you sit next to him while caressing his back, concerned. You look at him, almost accusing him as he stares the floor.

"What is it? Talk to me." you sigh.

"I told you, it's nothing. Nothing of importance." he replies.

"And I told you that it is something if you scream your lungs out every night." you say while holding his hand. "When will you talk about it?" He doesn't respond. You decide to lean your head on his shoulder.

"I know it's about your death." you sigh as he immediately moves away from you. You continue: "I hear you begging for your life and hoping Bruce will come to save you. Every. Night. You have to talk about it. It'll get better, I promise. The Joker can't hurt you now, he's dead. It's all in the past, you know that, right?" He looks at you with teary eyes, on the verge of bursting into tears. You wipe them away and hug him.

"Talk to me, Jay. You helped me go through some tough shit while you were Robin, I want to return the favor while you're Red Hood."

He sighs and starts explaining: "I just... can't get it out of my head... him laughing while beating the living shit out of me... me hoping Bruce would come and save me... and Crane- all his manipulations killed my soul- and Hank- it was my fault! It's my fault he's dead! I-" You notice as his voice starts breaking and he starts freaking out. You interrupt him by grabbing his face softly.

"Jason, it's just me. You're okay. The Joker's dead, Crane is in prison. It's just me and you. Nobody else."

He continues with his explanation, calmed down: "The Titans will never forgive me for killing Hank, will they? I mean, why would they? They didn't even care when I died so why would they forgive me for killing one of their loved ones? They all hated me." he goes on, staring at the ceiling.

"You don't need their forgiveness. What did I tell you? It's just me and you." you answer while caressing his shoulder.

Felling somewhat better, he looks back at you with a smirk: "And you're all I need." he says in a seductive tone before reaching for a kiss. You engage back and both of you go on for a few seconds.

"I love you, Y/N. Thank you... so much." he says softly.

"You're welcome, Jay. Love you too." you add as you stand up.

"Alright, since the idea of sleeping is out of the question for the both of us, what if I went to go get some pizza and we watched movies until morning?" you ask with a smirk. He nods at you while changing his stance to a very attractive one while smiling. You kiss his forehead and leave the room.

______________________________________________________________

The two of you, as lovey-dovey as ever, watch a bunch of his favorite movies all night like you proposed. You eventually fall asleep on his shoulder while he continues watching the movie, holding your hand. He later tells you that this was the best night he's ever had in a while. You realize he has really started to warm up to you now and even started talking to you about his problems.

"Thank you, Y/N. For everything."

419 notes · View notes

angelsanarchy · 5 months

Text

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 21

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

Oystein had stopped putting in orders for a few weeks. He figured after what Y/n went through seeing the photo of Pelle, it would be best to give her a bit of a break. If he got a craving, he didn't mind just stepping in and grabbing it. The few times he went in though, he hadn't seen Y/n in the back or even sitting in the office. When he resumes putting in his orders, some guy ends up dropping his order off.

"Did Y/n finally decide to stop bringing you lunch?" Faust asked confused.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I haven't seen her in a few weeks. He tried again the next day and it was still another person and not Y/n. Eventually he walked into the shop and saw Hammeed standing at the register.

"Your regular Mr. Oystein?" He asked and he gave a nod.

"Hey did Y/n quit?" Oystein could see a saddened look on Hammeed's face.

"Oh no, she asked for some time off. She works very hard. She wasn't doing well. I do apologize she hasn't been able to deliver your orders. Has there been a problem with the deliveries?" He asked

"No no they've been great. Don't worry about it. I was just curious." Oystein took his food back to the store and locked himself in his office. He debating on doing another drive by but after her neighbor had spotted him last time, he didn't want to make it worse.

Instead, he called the grocery store she also worked at.

"Hi I was looking to place an order but wanted to know if Y/n was available to deliver it? She delivers for my parents usually." Oystein asked sitting back in his chair.

"Oh Y/n is on bereavement leave for another week. We can try and find someone else to make a delivery but you might have to just pick up your order." The woman on the line explained.

Oystein hung up the phone and chewed on his lip. Bereavement leave might someone had died. The only person he knew was sick was her mom but she was mentally sick, not on the verge of death sick. He sat for hours trying to decide what to do. He finally searched for a phone book and was able to find the number that matched the address he had written on a small ripped piece of paper he kept in his wallet. He dialed the number and waited nervously for someone to answer.

"Hello?" It was a woman but not Y/n.

"Um...hi I was calling for Y/n...to offer my condolences." Oystein sat up hoping this wouldn't backfire on him.

"Oh I'm sorry sweetheart but she's sitting in Shiva right now. Would you like me to take a message?" The woman asked quietly.

"I um...I'm a friend and I was just worried about her. I heard she was on bereavement leave and I got worried...how is she doing?" Oystein asked cautiously.

"Honestly she's not doing well. She really thought her little brother was getting better. She had spent a lot of time with him working through his issues but his soul was just too broken to bare another day here. It didn't help that she found his body." Oystein closed his eyes tightly hearing what the woman was saying. Y/n's little brother must have killed himself. He wasn't expecting that at all. He remembers her mentioning her brother had issues like Pelle but he never considered that he was so closely related.

"Shiva is over in another few days and she said she would be going back to work soon. Do you work with her?" The woman asked and Oystein swallowed the lump in his throat.

"No I'm just a friend. Can you tell her that Oystein is here if she needs anything, anything at all." He said tearing the photo of Pelle off the wall.

"I will let her know Oystein. Thank you for calling and the condolences." The woman hung up the phone and Oystein took his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is not what he was expecting. Everything felt so upside down. He should have known why Y/n was so hurt by his actions when it came to Pelle's death. He came off as a heartless and callous and she was desperately trying to keep her brother here. He felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

He picked up the phone and dialed his home number. He waited to hear his mother's voice.

"Mom, I need your help. Y/n's brother died and I need to know what to send for condolences." Oystein stayed on the phone with his mother for over an hour in search of food delivery, flower delivery and any sort of funeral plans that his family could send an arrangement to. He asked his mom about what Shiva was and she explained that is a period of mourning after the funeral for the family to heal. She explained it was a very personal time for the family's healing journey and that it would be best for him to stay clear of her for now.

He also talked to her about Pelle and how things have happened between the two of them and while she wasn't thrilled to hear how he exploited the death of his friend, she explained to him that she knows how painful it was for him to lose Pelle. Oystein cried on the phone with his mother for the first time since he was a child.

He knew he had to get his shit together for his own sake. He needed to get back to the roots of what brought him to where he was today and stop letting stupid shit overshadow it all.

#R!Euronymous #R!Euronymous x Y/n #Film: Lords of Chaos #Alkaline #Alkaline series #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #21/35

70 notes · View notes

marvelslut16 · 7 months

Text

Acquaint Yourself With The Avengers

Prompt number: 29 "That's all? Easy."

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Rating: E(veryone)

Word count: 4.2k+

Warnings: Maybe some swearing. Slow Burn? Reality TV show hate. Bucky (and readers') self hatred. Talk of death.

A/N: Hey guys! I feel like I've been gone forever- work is killing me! But I'm back for Fictober and I'm really hoping I'll finally do the whole month. This is part 1 of 2 I think- but I'm open to writing more in this universe. Part two will be up in a few days if not tomorrow. I have never watched a reality TV show, so please bare with me for the mistakes I no doubt made.

“This has to be a joke,” you deadpan, throwing the joke of a contract onto the table in front of you. Steve murmurs in agreement on your left, and an increasingly uncomfortable Bucky shifts in his seat to Steve’s left. “Tony, reality shows are crap. What were you thinking?”

“This is coming from higher up than me,” he rubs his temples, giving away his exasperation. Over the years Tony started to slowly step out of the spotlight, no longer seeking out media coverage. “It’s directly from Fury, and the few Congress members that are still on our side. Since the Accord drama our ratings have been dipping, we need them to see that underneath it all we’re just human.”

“And if I don’t agree to it?” your voice hardens as you have a staring contest with the billionaire.

“Then you’re out.”

“So you’re telling me if I don’t exploit my life, if we all don’t exploit our lives- we’re kicked to the curb. Just like that? Years of work and helping people just flushed down the toilet?” you’re on the verge of angry tears.

Your mother had drilled into your brain since you were a young impressionable child, that reality shows were trash, that they did more harm than good. The worse things people did on these shows the more famous they got, it teaches young children that they’ll get rewarded for their bad behavior. You wonder what she would think of you now, about to agree to become that trash just so you can continue to help the people that are bound to talk shit about each and every one of your friends online.

“I agree with (Y/N/N),” Steve finally speaks up, quickly glancing at Bucky’s clenched fists. “Bucky shouldn’t be subjected to having twenty cameras shoved in his face, not so soon after rejoining society.”

It’s been a month since Bucky came to live with everyone at the newly built compound, he had spent the previous three months after the Accords in Wakanda receiving the best help Shuri could provide. You wouldn’t say that you and Bucky are friends, but you two are definitely friendlier than he is with most of the team. You’ve never pushed him to talk, you two can sit in peaceful silence, something Sam does regularly because of his experience with PTSD and the benefits of talking about it.

“You’re just worried that more people are going to start speculating that you're dating him,” Sam joins the conversation, referencing the newest gossip article published today. Some ‘news’ site wrote a fifteen paragraph article speculating on a non-existent romance between the super soldiers, stemming from one single photo of Steve standing half in front of Bucky and pushing a camera out of his face on the way into a restaurant- for a team dinner.

“On the topic of relationships, I don’t really want a bunch of cameras in mine and Clint’s,” Natasha speaks up from the other side of the table, Clint nods along.

“The last thing people need is hours of footage of Vis and me to analyze and bully us about, I already get enough judgment and hate,” Wanda adds, crossing her arms over her chest. Vis rests a comforting hand on her soldier, he’s learned enough about human emotions- especially Wanda’s- to know not to add anything.

“You guys are overreacting,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Plus this could be a good time to promote things we’re passionate about, like group therapy for Veterans.”

“It sounds fun,” Thor booms, you roll your eyes. No one will say anything about him, he’s conventionally attractive, has a sexy accent, and he’s a literal God. He has nothing but adoring fans.

“All publicity is good publicity,” Tony grimaces. “We can’t go any lower, we’re already at the bottom of the barrel.”

“Peter’s lucky he’s a minor and anonymous,” you pout, out of the corner of your eye you can see Bucky crack a small smile. With that one final comment you're signing the contract, because at the end of the day you’ll do whatever it takes to be able to help those in need. Everyone has a similar vein of thought, all signing their own contracts.

Later that night you're sitting in the living room with Bucky, the News is playing in the background, but neither of you had been paying it any mind. You’re too focused on coming up with worst case scenarios about the impending reality show. Bucky can practically hear the gears whirring in your head, he keeps glancing over at you to make sure you're okay. Not that you notice because you're too wrapped up in your own little world.

“What if they edit it to make one of us the villain?” you ask out of nowhere, this is the first time you’ve broken the peaceful silence in the months you’ve been sitting with him. “Sorry, forget I said anything, I’m gonna head to bed.”

“It’ll be me,” Bucky whispers when you stand up from the couch. “They’ll take this opportunity to show everyone what a monster I am.”

“You aren’t a monster Bucky,” you squat down in front of him when you see that he’s staring at his lap. “You can’t be blamed for what Hydra made you do. And anyway, they usually pick an unsuspecting person on one of these shows and edit it so their words and actions are all twisted. They ruin people’s characters, not make hard hitting political statements.”

“You think they’ll target you?” he asks it like it’s a question, but it’s more of a statement.

“Yeah I do,” you sigh, standing up and plopping on the couch beside Bucky for the first time. “I’m mysterious, or at least that’s what Tony and Peter keep telling me. I don’t have a big social media presence, I do my best to avoid the paparazzi when I go out, and I very rarely speak at press conferences. If they don’t make me the villain, I’m worried they’ll hyperfocus on me until I slip up and become one.”

“I think it’ll be Vision, since he’s a robot,” Bucky adds after a minute of silence, and you can’t help but smile at him.”

Before you know it, Wednesday rolls around, and the fifteen person crew shows up to invade your lives. You start to get overwhelmed by the ten cameras they are setting up, two in a confessional area, and the other three in the living room where you are all supposed to do your opening scripted talk- where Tony will explain why you guys are doing the reality show Acquaint Yourself With The Avengers. On top of those cameras, the crew are setting up hidden and security cameras to catch the action when they aren’t there filming on the main ones. Once you're all seated on the couches- your stuffed between Bucky and Sam- the PA, Alice, comes over to talk to you all.

“So filming will happen Thursday through Tuesday most weeks, unless a big event falls on an off day, crew leaves by ten PM at the latest, and the hidden cameras will go dormant after midnight. No children will be in the final product- as requested by Scott, we can evaluate on a case by case basis if any of the rest of you choose to have children down the line and want to show them. Are there any questions?” she asks, but gives a look that screams not to ask any. “Well if there aren’t any, we should get to shooting, we’re already twenty minutes behind.”

You say your two scripted lines in the beginning scene and then zone out through the rest, you’re a little worried your face will give your lack of enthusiasm away, but none of the crew says anything so you assume you're fine. Soon enough, you're dismissed, but not allowed to go far because the first interviews for all of you are about to take place in the dining room. You and Bucky both stay firmly planted on the couch while most of the others go to the kitchen to get something to drink, or lurk in the dining room to watch said interviews- Steve being the first to be interviewed.

“Just act like the camera’s aren't there,” you say unhelpfully when you notice his gaze shifting uneasily from one camera to the next. In reality you too are struggling with them watching you from every possible angle.

“That’s all? Easy,” Bucky deadpans, a laugh bursts out of your mouth and his eyes twinkle.

“Did you just make a joke,” you laugh again, this time far quieter. For the first time since the camera crew arrived you forget they’re there, too lost in this one real moment with Bucky, too lost in his gorgeous crystal blue eyes. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him let his guard down with anyone other than Steve.

“And if I did?” he asks playfully, leaning in closer to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Then I’d say do it more often, it’s a good look on you,” you grin back at him, and you're only broken out of your trance when Alice calls for Tony.

She calls you after Tony, hair and makeup come rushing over to give tiny last minute adjustments to your appearance after you're seated in front of a ring light. You start to fidget with the hem of your shirt as the PA flips through her paper to get to her list of questions about you, the suspense just making your anxiety skyrocket.

“To start off we’re just going to ask some easy and basic questions to get you warmed up. So (Y/N), you’ve been with the Avengers since it was first formed, tell us what that’s been like, and make sure you put the question in your answer.”

“I’ve been with the Avengers since 2011, I was the second one Director Fury recruited, right after Tony. I’ve loved all of the good deeds we have been able to do for people all over the world, and I’ve made some lifelong friendships too. It’s amazing being able to do something you love with the people you love.”

“Good good,” Alice nods, looking down at her questions. “Now tell us how you feel about all of the new auditions to the team since then, and don’t hold back.”

“We’ve had some pretty great people join since the seven of us were originally put together, not only are they good, friendly people, but they are also all very skilled at what they do. I love watching the team grow, it just means that we have more skills and manpower to be able to help even more people,” Alice rolls her eyes at your response.

“For this next part we’re going to put up article headlines talking about how you’re the most private Avenger, even more so than Natasha. So just tell us why you’re so private.”

“There isn’t all that much to say, I’m just a private person,” Alice makes a keep going gesture from behind the camera. “I’ve always been pretty private and I was only thrust into the limelight when I joined the Avengers Initiative. I do my job to help people not to get recognition, that’s what my career has always been about. I never felt the need to post a lot of selfies online or make a tweet about the workout I just did. People are allowed to do those things, and there’s nothing wrong with that, I’ve just never understood why people would care what I’m doing in my day to day life.”

“Do you feel safe in the compound?” the question comes out of left field and you aren’t sure why it’s being brought up.

“Of course I feel safe! I’m in a highly secured compound with my fellow Avengers, there’s nothing safer.”

“One last question, everyone is dying to know, what’s your relationship status?” Alice even seems like she’s interested in the answer.

“Like I said before, I am a very private person, but I suppose I could answer this. For the whole two people wondering about my relationship status, I am single at the moment. I’ve just been really focusing on my job, and I’ve learned that people don’t necessarily like coming second to my job and my friends.”

“Thank you,” Alice smiles. “Can you send Bucky over next?”

You do as you’re told, search out Bucky and send him on his way to the dining room. Instead of heading to sweet freedom, your room, you loiter and watch Bucky’s intro interview. “Sergeant Barnes, what has it been like joining the Avengers and how has everyone treated you?”

“It’s been okay and mostly everyone-” Bucky gets cut off by Alice.

“Make sure you put the question in your answer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky is clearly starting to get agitated with all of the focus and cameras on him.

“Say something like joining the Avengers has been really good, it’s helping me get better with teamwork again blah blah blah. The team has welcomed me in and it’s reminiscent of my time in the Army, something like that,” Bucky gives one nod, turning back to the camera in front of him.

“Joining the Avengers has been really good, it’s helping me get better with teamwork again,” you bring your hands to your mouth to stifle your laugh at Bucky repeating you word for word. “The team has welcomed me in and it’s reminiscent of my time in the Army.”

“Okay,” Alice draws the word out at Bucky’s lack of originality. “Who would you say your best friends on the team are?”

“Steve,” Bucky responds without thinking, and Alice tells him to mention at least one other person. “Other than Steve, probably (Y/N).”

You're shocked, but flattered, by his response. Sure, he may have just said that because you were right there and staring at him, but maybe he meant it. Maybe all of those nights on the couch with him meant something to him.

“Oh really?” asks, clearly liking whatever spin she’ll eventually put on this conversation in editing.

“Yeah, she um, she was the first one to really welcome me and spend time with me,” he rubs his neck nervously.

“Just like (Y/N), you’re really private too,” you take a step forward seeing that the questioning is starting to put Bucky on edge.

“Cause it’s no one's business,” Alice, thankfully, doesn’t push.

“Are you ever worried you may do something to put your team members in danger?”

That’s enough!” your voice comes out firmer and louder than you imagined it would, drawing the attention of the rest of the Avengers. “Bucky isn’t going to sith there and take your abuse, his interview is done.”

You hold your hand out to him, and he jumps to grasp it, gripping it like it’s his lifeline. You’ve never touched Bucky before, and you keep your brain from running at how warm and nice his right hand feels in your own. You lead him out of the room, away from the prying eyes, and the now constant camera presence. You pull Bucky to your favorite room in the compound, the library. You deposit him on the comfy chaise lounge in the middle of the room while you go grab two books. You come back with Harry Potter for you, and The Hobbit for him, you had heard him talking to Steve about the movies once and learned he read it back in the day.

Little do you know, the littlest action of knowing Bucky’s favorite book on top of the way you stood up for him out there means more to Bucky than he’ll ever know how to express. It thaws his frozen heart just a little.

#fictober23 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #kat rambles #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

108 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

eggdoodles

4 Saiyans 1 Roof

ffep

frasifamosevita

Frasi Famose

cebrenren

Drowning in feels

shazlikesbaking

Baking by S