#and they got their head pounded into the fucking ground and they died

[blueberryblogger]

just thinking about the fact that a fully grown trans woman was removed from the platform for no reason (bad, obviously) & now all i see are transfem positivity & support posts in response (good, obviously)

meanwhile a nonbinary transmasc teenager was beaten to death at school, the school refused to call an ambulance and instead suspended them (again this is bad, obviously) & all i see in response is posts debating whether or not its possible for this to have been a suicide & the same singular post about their death that i have to go searching for because none of my mutuals will reblog anything about transmasc people.

like. am i actually crazy for seeing a problem with that? am i crazy for wanting to see posts condeming anti trans violence against ALL trans people? or wanting to see posts saying that transmascs deserve to be protected against this kind of violence?

am i really a big evil piece of shit for thinking that transmasculine people deserve to be recognized & protected when something fucked up and unfair happens to us?

#like #im going to have to unfollow so many of my mutuals if this keeps up #because its just so frustrating to be grieving with my brothers & siblings and then get a fuxking #and then get 'but trans women have it WORSE' #as if its a fucking competition. #like its a game to win #like if you have more opression points eventually you'll stop being opressed #but it doesnt matter #im just a stupid transmasc what do i know about feminism right #because when i 'decided' to transition i lost any and all rights to have any kind of issues or problems #that are specifically influenced by what gender i am. #im just a stupid transmasc #and nobody is going to care when its finally my turn to get beat to death in a public restroom #and nobody is going to make transmasc positivity posts to honor me or fight for me #nobody is going to cry injustice at my death either #because Nex Benedict was a child. a nonbinary transmasc child. #and they got their head pounded into the fucking ground and they died #and none of the 'trans allies' around me give a fuck #becauze a trans woman was unjustly booted from this platform #and the issues of trans women are always more important #and people like me. people like Nex Benedict. #well. we're just the fucking collateral damage aren't we? #tw vent #cw vent #vent post #vent #personal vent #transmasc issues

[baldursgat3]

so like a week ago I saw a post I can't find again about the idea of like an elf Tav who had grown up with Astarion before Cazador

so here's 4.5k words of that

lightly nsfw but the pants stay on (except in my half finished drafts that I gave up on)

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?" He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

You stumbled along the beach away from the illithid ship. Your head was pounding and you just wanted to lay down but this was not nearly the time or place. You had to get away from the crash site and, preferably, find a few other survivors to watch your back. The cleric you picked up was fine and all, but you didn't entirely trust her. You were certain you'd need more help than that anyway.

Corpses littered the surrounding area, of humans and mind flayers alike. Not much survived the falling, flaming debris. It wasn't hard to make out a voice over the crackling fires.

You jogged towards the voice, quickly spotting it's owner. A slender elf with white curls that were surprisingly neat for surviving the nautiloid wreck. "Quick! I've got one of those brain things cornered."

That voice was… familiar? Still, you couldn't quite place it and it didn't really matter. If you helped him kill the thing, perhaps you could convince him to join you.

You followed where he was pointing, sword in hand. Really, you should've known better. Or perhaps Shadowheart could've been quicker to alert you?

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours."

This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?"

He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

"You- you died…?" It didn't make sense. You saw them bury his body and everything.

His eyes flicked back and forth, studying your face. You wouldn't be upset if he didn't recognize you, but you weren't exactly sure how you would talk your way out of this in that case.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to find out. You saw the moment it hit him as he jerked his dagger away from your neck, scrambling to get off of you. "It… can't be. Of all the people… you." He laughed bitterly, stowing the dagger.

Honestly, you weren't exactly sure how to respond to this situation. You couldn't even tell if he was happy to see you or not. So you decided to press on the most concerning issue still. "You died. I went to your funeral, Astarion. What… happened to you?"

You were nearly the same age, you'd grown up together in his family's estate. Your parents were hired hands and you served as a live-in friend for their reclusive son. He was only a few months older than you, so why did he look so much older? So much paler, more exhausted than someone your age ought to be.

On top of it he still looked fucking fantastic. Gods you hated how effortlessly beautiful he was.

His gaze darted between you and Shadowheart, anxiously weighing his options. "Ah, yes, well. You know how it goes, surrounded by adoration and opulence. It all gets to be too much, you fake your death, you flee the country. Standard business really."

That definitely wasn't the truth but clearly he wasn't about to share it in front of Shadowheart. It hurt, finding him like this, though. You were so close as children. It had gotten a little harder as you grew up but you always kept in contact. But he let you think he was dead for 200 years anyway? "Right. Of course. Well. Care to join us?"

~*~*~

It's not like you were still in mourning or anything. He had been a good friend for so long, at times even your best friend, but two hundred years was enough time for you to move on.

You had thought about him from time to time. Fondly remembering stories from your past that would turn into a quiet sadness for the life that was taken from him.

They never had an answer for what had happened to him. He had been murdered, you knew that much. No one ever said how or why, though. Magistrate's weren't exactly beloved and his family held a high enough title there was always the vague threat of assassinations but Astarion seemed like such a strange target.

It was compounded by the fact that nothing ever came of it. No one was ever caught, no political move was made on his grieving family. You would think maybe he'd been jumped, but nothing had been taken from him. Honestly, you never expected to get an answer. Certainly not from the dead man himself.

The two of you were sat in his tent, it had been a few days but what a wild few days they were. Tomorrow you would set out to level the goblin camp but tonight you were going to talk.

"I'm sorry." He started. It kind of surprised you, really. You had been learning over the past few days that the man you had once known was all but gone. The Astarion in front of you now was always bitter and irritated with half the things you did.

"Astarion I swear to Kelemvor, it is not naïve to rescue a twelve year old from a crazy lady with a snake for 'no reason.' The reason is rescuing the twelve year old from a snake."

"Where did you go? What happened to you?" The apology was nice but really, you just wanted answers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the ground between the two of you and he looked so… sad. "I thought about it, about finding you. At first and, only for a moment."

Well that didn't really clear anything up, all right. You kept quiet though, you were smart enough to know when not to push.

"You want the truth? I was captured. Kidnapped by an evil man who turned me into a monster and forced me to do his bidding. I couldn't have told you. I- I didn't want to get anywhere near you. Not like this." 

A picture was beginning to come into focus. Honestly, there had been enough pieces that you had already begun to wonder. "You're a vampire."

"A spawn, yes." He practically spat the word out, scowling at the ground. "He turned me into his little pet. I was to go out and catch him the most beautiful souls I could find for him to feast on. All the while I was starved and tortured just for his amusement."

"Astarion…"

"I don't want your pity. I mean - I do, sort of but- ugh…" He rolled his eyes, leaning back. "You've made this all extremely complicated."

"Why didn't you ever try to find me? I would've helped, I could've tried to get you out of there."

"I… well I couldn't." He glanced up at you, a sad smile crossing his lips. "You would've tried, certainly. And I would've watched him kill you as punishment I'm sure. No, it's quite all right." He waved a hand dismissively, as a perfect, easy grin spread across his face.

You couldn't exactly argue. It's not like you had any idea what you would've been up against. Still, your blood boiled at the very idea of what he must've gone through in your centuries apart. "Well, you're safe right now, anyway."

His face softened at your words, seeming to relax into the very idea of your protection. "I am, aren't I? How strange." His head cocked to the side, an almost calculating look crossing his face. "Would you… care to stay the night?"

~*~*~

You had always had a sort of off and on crush on Astarion, growing up. When you were very small he had told your parents that the two of you were already married, obviously.

As you got older, you had been sidelined pretty hard as the best friend and you took it with grace. You had plenty of other people who caught your eye and it was nice to always have someone you trusted to be there.

There was that one time that he had drunkenly wept into your arms about being the only person he would ever truly love. It would've meant more had he not just gotten his heart broken hours prior, but it did rekindle an old spark in your heart for a solid year.

The two of you had drifted apart as your social circles moved in opposite directions. You never connected with the upper class, he wouldn't be seen with the rabble. You always kept in touch but, by the time he was murdered captured, you were struggling to keep up with your monthly nights out at the Elfsong.

Right now, though, in this moment? You felt as though you couldn't possibly be closer to another person if you'd wished for it.

Astarion had practically crawled on top of you in his effort to kiss you. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other rested firmly against the small of your back. He was colder than you were used to but that wasn't unwelcome. Instead it just sent shivers through your entire body with every touch.

You slowly lowered yourself down to your elbows as he leaned further into you, chasing this kiss like he needed it to survive. The hand in your hair held you firmly against him, not that you had any intention of going anywhere.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, pulling a pitiful little noise out of your throat. He let out a small breath of a laugh as his fingers began to slowly tug your shirt out of your pants. Every move was so delicate and effortless on his part. Gods he was flawless.

He freed your shirt from the prison that was your waistband, pulling back just far enough to whisper a soft "May I?" against your lips.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you blinked up at him. "Only if you return the favor."

"Gladly." A devilish smile crossed his lips as he pulled back, taking your top with him. A moment later, he had his own pulled over his head and both were recklessly discarded.

One of his hands found it's way to your back again. You couldn't help the way you jumped as his icy fingers made contact with your bare skin. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, ever so gently applying just a bit of pressure. Just enough to encourage you to lay back underneath him as he pressed your lips together again.

You went so easily, he was so gentle and sweet and he tasted like vanilla and ever so slightly like copper. He was intoxicating.

Once he had you on your back, his hands began to wander. They trailed ever so delicately over your chest, lighting a fire inside of you as they went. Your own hands were so much more inexperienced. One helplessly pressed flat against his back, the other unwilling to pull away from his curls for even a moment.

He didn't seem to be bothered by how little you were really helping. His hands continued tenderly mapping your body as his kisses began to trail away from your mouth, along your jawline.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss trailed down to your neck and you felt him pull back, just a bit, just enough to look at you. "Now… it is just a thought… it's just that, well, some people are into biting."

"Are you asking if you can drink my blood?"

"Well, only if the answer is yes."

You gently brushed your hand through his mess of curls as you pondered this. "What would it… do?"

"To you? Not much. A bit of dizziness perhaps, nothing out of the ordinary for some good old fashioned blood loss. But for me? I've been living off rats and wild boar for decades. Just a sip from someone as decadent as yourself could probably give me the power of the sun."

You couldn't help but laugh at the blatant flirting, but damn if it wasn't working. "Maybe a bit exaggerated," he continued "But it would make me feel stronger. I could fight better, think clearer. You don't have to-"

"Go for it."

"Oh. Shit really? I still had a whole monologue about not feeling pressured."

"Getting less sexy by the second, Ancunín."

"Gods, shut up." He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips back to yours as you giggled.

You could feel his anticipation now, though. He kissed you just long enough to push you back into the right headspace before his attention turned back to your neck.

He lingered there longer than you expected, tenderly covering you with his kisses. Then, without warning, he pulled back and his gentle lips were replaced by an acute sting as his fangs sunk into one of your veins.

It was a unique feeling, you could say that. You'd been stabbed before but this was different. It was cold. Like the first snow of winter, dark and freezing but glittering like crystals in the moonlight. You heard yourself gasp and felt your body arch up into him as your head tipped back for him.

You could've easily lost yourself in the feeling, just basking in this closeness you had with someone who was so dear to you. You had just enough awareness to feel the dizzy, light headed bliss start to tip towards darkness.

Your grip on his hair tightened, gently trying to tug him back before he got carried away. "Astarion…"

He only let out a gentle moan before seeming to catch himself, quickly pulling away with a small gasp. "Gods…" he wiped away the small trickle of your blood that had escaped his lips, licking it from his fingers as you stared up at him, slack jawed.

"I couldn't have wished for a finer vintage." He crooned as he ducked his head back down to clean the blood from your neck.

Gods, he had your heart about bursting out of your chest. His hands started to wander again as his mouth continued it's assault on your neck. Every touch was so careful and perfect, each one sending sparks flying through you.

He cupped one hand around your neck, gently applying a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding as his mouth moved back to yours. "You're gorgeous, you know? I've always thought so."

You were obsessed already. He was intoxicating, the way his touch felt against your skin, the way his honey sweet words pierced your heart. There was an old version of you that had dreamed of just having him like this.

Here you were, pampered and loved by a man you had adored for so long. Gods, you really never thought you would ever see him again, let alone have his hand down your pants like this. In this moment, the world was nearly perfect. The only thing that mattered to you now was making this boy yours.

~*~*~

You woke up in the morning, a bit sore, a bit disoriented, and very alone. It took a moment to remember why you were in a strange tent. Another moment for you to realize Astarion was gone. You couldn't help the disappointment that bloomed in your chest at that thought. You couldn't blame him, exactly. It's not like the two of you were a thing. Still, it would've been nice to wake up beside him.

You sighed softly, quietly getting dressed in the still morning chill. It felt like early morning, the golden light filtering into the tent and lack of noise from your companions clued you in. Maybe Astarion had run off to feed before the rest of the camp woke up. Maybe he'd hoped to be back before you had gotten up?

No such luck. You pushed open the tent flap to find your vampire quietly staring at the dim embers of your campfire. You had to bite back another sigh as you stepped forward, apparently making enough noise to draw his attention.

His neck whipped around, though he relaxed instantly once he located the source of the sound he'd heard. "You're up early." He said, quietly, turning back to the fire.

"I could say the same."

"I'm always the first one awake." You could hear the eye roll in his voice.

You stepped forward, moving to sit beside him with a small, awkward smile. "And you just had to get away from me?" Don't freak him out, play it cool. You weren't disappointed at all.

He didn't seem to find it funny, though. He just drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I told you. You made things… complicated."

That was weird. Honestly, you had no idea what he meant. "I'm sorry?"

"Not your fault." His voice was flat and unreadable. He'd really changed so much since you last saw him. It made sense but that didn't stop it from hurting.

You missed the man you used to know. Snarky and a bit full of himself. But also shy and awkward and comforting. You recognized many of his old mannerisms but they'd changed. He was bitter, focused on how to protect himself above all else. It made him violent and trigger happy in a way you weren't used to. Quite frankly, it was a little scary sometimes, the amount of joy he took in violence.

"Can I help?" It was all you had really. You couldn't change what had happened to him. All you could do now was try to help.

"Can you help? Sure. If you could just… go back in time, stop yourself from finding me after the nautiloid and let me carry on my merry way, presumably to be murdered by the first person I annoy too much."

"Okay, well, I'm not sure I can do that." You couldn't read him, no matter how hard you tried. "Did I… do something wrong?"

"No, gods, no." He curled up tighter. He looked so… vulnerable. He never did vulnerable. Especially not now. "You're perfect. That's the problem. You made it complicated."

"Astarion, I don't understand."

He sighed, finally turning his head to throw you a small, tired look. "I know. Hells…" You could see the confliction writing itself across his face. "I want to tell you something but you have to swear that you won't hate me for it, I mean it. It's not good, but you cannot hate me."

"I've never hated you, Star." Maybe the nickname was a bad idea. You practically saw it stab him directly through the chest, forcing him to turn away for a moment to collect himself.

He couldn't look you in the eye again, he just stared off to the distance in any other direction. "I know. I mean it though, promise me, please."

"All right." What could he possibly tell you that was worse than 'I spent two hundred years forced to kidnap people to be killed by my master.' "I promise. I won't hate you, no matter what."

You saw him relax a bit, his shoulders loosening. He turned back, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. "I… Last night, that- it…" It was so rare that he struggled to find his words.

He took another breath, trying to collect himself before turning back to the fire. "I was just… using you. I wish I could say I didn't mean to but- gods, I did. I pushed it that way on purpose. Its all… part of the plan, you know? Seduce you, sleep with you, secure my safety and position in the group with you. It was… easy."

Oh. Well that wasn't exactly great to hear. He was still trying to collect himself, find the right words. You didn't want to interrupt and, honestly, you didn't really know what to say.

"I didn't think about it, I just… did it. Like I had to. I needed to. And by the time my head caught up it was too late. You were already into it, I couldn't just stop."

"What?"

"I mean," He continued quickly, seemingly trying to get ahead of your presumed anger. "It's not like it wasn't good, it's not like I don't… care about you. It's just, it was an instinct. I think."

"Astarion-"

"Please, you have to understand-"

"No, no, stop. Hold on." You saw the panic in his eyes as you interrupted. "Astarion did you not… want to do that?"

The look he gave you was, honestly, almost a little pitiful. "Like I said, you've made this complicated. I don't know. I don't know what I want."

You turned your attention away from him, towards the dying fire in front of you, pausing for a moment to collect your thoughts. "I wish you hadn't done that to yourself." He was right. This was complicated.

He wasn't the same person you had grown up with. Whatever had been done to him had clearly changed him fundamentally as a person.

But, still, you couldn't look at him without seeing your old friend. It was still the same laugh you had known. Still the same smile. You saw it, when you agreed to help the tieflings, the way he cocked his hip out and rolled his eyes. His little mannerisms that still lingered after all this time. He might not be the same man you had known, but you loved him anyway.

"I don't know what happened to you," you continued before he could get defensive. "I don't know what made you feel like you had to go to such extremes just to win affections you've had since we were children."

You saw some kind of spark in his eyes. It was so difficult to read him now, you wanted to get better at that. "I'm… sorry." He sounded so unsure. Honestly, you didn't care for it, he was always so confident. Now, though, he just looked… sad, maybe?

"You don't have to apologize. Astarion," You carefully reached a hand out to cover one of his. "The first thing you did when you saw me was put a dagger to my throat, and I still would've tossed Shadowheart into the ocean if you'd asked me to."

That pulled a startled laugh out of him that you briefly worried might've woken up your companions. Gods you really would do just about anything to see him smile. "You would not have. You're too much of a goody two shoes."

"Maybe." You grinned, giving his hand the smallest squeeze. "Still. I'm just sorry you felt like you had to go that far for my affection."

"I'm not the man you used to know, I'm not blind. I don't know who he was anymore. Up till now, I think I'd forgotten my own parents' faces. But you look at me like you expect me to be him and I don't know how. I can't be what you expect, at least if I could keep your bed warm you'd have reason to keep me around."

"Astarion…" Your hand tightened around his as you scooted just a bit closer. "I was sitting in the Elfsong, a long time ago. At 'our' table, you know? I was waiting for you to meet me and I grabbed a day old copy of the Gazette to read while I waited.

"I didn't even notice at first. There was a headline for one of the articles, 'Magistrate Murdered', but I didn't notice until I got closer to it. I saw your name and it was like the roof caved in over me. I was sitting there, waiting for you to show up, and a shitty, ale stained piece of parchment told me you never would."

You looked up at him with a sad smile before continuing quickly, trying to stay ahead of the guilt you were sure was creeping up in him. "I cried for months over you. And for years after when something reminded me too much of you. Star, neither of us are the same person we left behind, it's been two hundred years. I've been through plenty, and you've been through hell. That's not what matters though."

He looked so small right now. He was nervous and upset and vulnerable. You hated it, you didn't want him to be so anxious with you, gods you wanted him to trust you. "What matters is right now. We're here together. That's so much more than I ever could've dreamed just a month ago. You don't have to earn my trust and love again. And you certain don't have to force yourself to have sex with me to do it. I never stopped loving you, Astarion."

He was still for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, scanning you for ill intent. You watched him cycle through a dozen emotions as he processed what you were saying. Then, almost like a switch flipped, he just melted.

With a choked out sob, he collapsed into you. You wrapped your arms around him as he curled into a ball, practically in your lap. His whole body shook as he quietly cried into your chest. You really did hate seeing him cry but you could feel the tension lifting from his shoulders as you held him tight.

You let a silent prayer fly to whichever god was keeping your friends asleep through this, asking them to keep up the good work. The last thing he needed right now was everyone else seeing him like this, you knew how much he wanted to keep up appearances.

Ever so gently, you lifted a hand to card your fingers through his curls. He curled up just a bit tighter, leaned into you just a bit more. It had been so, so long since the two of you had been this close. You really, truly never wanted it to end.

Eventually, though, he pulled back with an awkward laugh and a hasty scrub of his face. He didn't go far, just enough to sit back and look at you. "Gods… well. That was sexy."

You rolled your eyes, throwing him a soft grin. "You're ridiculous, Star. Come on, everyone'll be up soon. Big day, you know? Let's go kill some fucking goblins."

#bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 1st: Parents | Runaway - Sword | Youthful cw: allusions to neglectful and alcoholic parent, police, incarceration [happy ending promised, as always!] read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

Eddie runs away from home for the last time when he’s thirteen years old. 

The ground beneath his feet is barely visible, barely felt against the worn soles of his too-small sneakers as he runs through the familiar trails of Hawkins’ forest. He’s run away before, usually sneaking out in the middle of the night when he hears the tell-tale silence of his father falling into a drunken stupor on the couch, but this time feels different. This time, he’s actually running, no backpack or hastily thrown together bag of essentials to weigh him down. 

He hadn’t had time, not with so many police cars showing up at once. 

His breath comes in quick bursts, just enough oxygen to carry him off the beaten path onto a path only he knows. It comes without markers or posts. Why would there be signs here? No one else needs the most direct route between Clyde Munson and Wayne Munson’s homes. A 10-minute run, quicker if he sprints like he is now, connects two different worlds and only one feels safe. 

Uncle Wayne has, for much of Eddie’s life, been home. He’s lived with him on and off for a few months at a time, sometimes after dear old dad had been hauled away by Officer Hopper again and other times, when he’d simply run away and his dad couldn’t be bothered to track him down. Eddie spent nearly a year with his Uncle Wayne after his mom died, a wonderful year where Eddie experienced an actual parent and got to figure out things he actually enjoys– fantasy books, D&D, music with intense virtuosity and aggressive guitar lines. He never should’ve gone back, but the guilt ate at him. Maybe it’ll be different, he’d thought at the time. Maybe he’ll care now. 

The fact that he’s running through the woods at full speed away from what could only be defined as a fucking siege with his dad at the center is all the answer he needs. There’s nothing he can do to help his dad– there’s nothing he should do, because he’s a kid at the end of the day and he never should’ve been put in this situation to begin with. 

Eddie shakes his head as he runs, shaking the thoughts from his brain as he hears the familiar, comforting sounds of people talking in the distance. He barrels through the tree-line into one of his Uncle’s neighbors who steadies him by the shoulders, checks him over quickly to find nothing physically wrong. 

“You alright, son? Looks like you seen a ghost.” 

Nope, just a nightmare, he thinks.

Eddie shakes his head and looks around frantically for Wayne, out of breath. “No, no, I’m– I’m fine. Is Uncle Wayne home?” 

“Eddie?” As though summoned, Wayne appears in the doorway of his own trailer a few lots down. Eddie shrugs out of the neighbor’s touch and runs toward the voice, the one that makes his brain slow down from the spinning wheel it’s been on since the first fist pounded on his dad’s door. 

“Wayne, thank God, thank fuck,” Eddie mutters as he runs into him, hugging him unabashedly around the middle. His fingers dig tightly into Wayne’s back, clutching the fabric of his familiar flannel and grounding himself as Wayne hugs him back. 

“I’m uh, I’m glad to see you, too, kid. Everything alright?” Wayne tone is questioning, rightfully so. He doesn’t know yet that Clyde’s been arrested and likely won’t get out this time, or that Eddie’s here to stay. 

Hours later though, after Eddie’s shared his side of the story and Wayne’s made him a mug of his famous hot chocolate, the police arrive. Officer Hopper assures Eddie that he’s in no trouble, that he didn’t need to run, that he’ll never need to run from Clyde again. 

“I know you’ve got a lot of your stuff still at the house. You got family around to stay with?” Officer Hopper asks, looking at Eddie but clearly asking Wayne. 

“‘Course he does, he’s here, ain’t he?” Wayne nods at Officer Hopper and Eddie catches the interaction. “My old van ain’t much– she needs some work– but should be enough to get us back and forth with your stuff, Ed.” 

The van is more than enough for the barebones possessions Eddie cares to bring: an old acoustic guitar that belonged to his mom, a worn paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring gifted to him by Wayne, and some clothes and odds and ends. 

Years later, after he runs again and somehow lives to tell the tale, he returns to what still stands of the trailer with Wayne. Most of their belongings are either destroyed or damaged beyond repair but it doesn't matter to Eddie. 

Home was never the trailer he ran to– just the family inside of it.

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #flight of icarus #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

[buckyysdoll]

— 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭 —

જ⁀➴ — 18+ MDNI • summary: literally just smut cos apparently i’m back in my joel miller phase (not complaining); • a/n: this is basically a redo of something i wrote before i deleted a lot from this blog; • c/w: FILTH, creamp!e, dirty talk, daddy kink. literally just sex, good luck 🫡❤︎︎

MAIN MASTERLIST

You’re about to come and Joel knows it, wants to talk you through it till you’re soaking his cock.

He’s held up above you on the weight of his elbows and your legs are curved around his bare hips, from which he drives himself into you over again going deep, hitting deeper every time.

Indeed, every pound of his cock to that spot knocks the bedposts back, hitting the wall; with every scrape, there is only your joined, panting moans. The slap of his skin on your own.

“Joel, I’m getting so close,” you manage, hands clawing at his back for some purchase. His mouth has left yours to kiss its way down your damp, heated neck, nipping at you every inch of the way.

“I know sweetheart, I feel you,” Joel murmurs back, lifting one hand to move to your side. Once there, he shifts up your leg to a new, hiked up angle, and the change takes your breath.

Now he can reach so much deeper that each thrust has your throat dry, working hard for each moan.

It also makes Joel that much closer to release, which has threatened since the moment he entered you. To be honest it doesn’t really take much — not with you — to have him ready to come within minutes.

But still tonight, after such a long day, your warmth caught him off guard. He fought hard for composure.

Now then, he’s groaning with his mouth to your ear, praise murmured, kissing where he can reach. “Fuck, that’s it, that’s it. Just take what you need baby, that’s a good girl.”

You might’ve died right there from the praise if his pounding wasn’t keeping you anchored to Earth. You wanted him to please him, to have him be proud, and that need overrode any other base thoughts.

“Joel please.” Please what? You didn’t know. You only knew that you needed him coming, and hard. With him inside you like this, his release would be what sent you over the edge, and he knew it.

The groans from his throat and his fraying composure were enough to have you soaking and pliant beneath him, but now he looked up, met your damp, crying eyes, and fuck but the sight of you like that undid him.

“I know baby, I know. I know that it hurts, but you’re doing so well.” And it really did hurt — the acuteness of need, the way that he filled you and stretched you completely.

He was so big, so thick inside you that your back was near fully arching clean off the bed, bowing to the rhythm that he set with his hands on your hips, guiding you, softly talking you through it.

“You wanna come for me sweetheart, hm? You can let it all go, it’s alright, I’ve got you.” At his words, you felt the telltale creep up your spine of that thick, sweet tension. The heat.

Your pussy convulsed on his cock, and Joel gritted his teeth, his hands fisted in the sheets by your head. He caged you in with his arms either side, and you knew by the tension in his shoulders — almost.

“Come for me.” It was an order, but spoken so softly it sounded like prayer. “Let me feel you,” Joel ground through his teeth, one hand carding through the soft strands of your hair.

And so he did, he felt you, as you sharply exhaled in a cry as you came. Joel’s body was a tether to the bed, to your life, his thrusts no longer steady, but erratic. Desperate.

He chased his own high, and you tightening on him had his eyes screwed shut, throat tight. Joel bit down on your shoulder, stubble harsh on your skin as he came, fingers still threaded — gripped — in your hair.

And God, those sounds that he made; a sweet litany of “fuck,” and your name from his mouth. They almost had you coming again, and you clenched as you felt his release, that slick warmth.

But then he slowed and eventually stilled, soft spasms of the aftershocks deep in your gut. A fine, slight shake took your body and you saw that Joel, too, trembled with his exertion, his pleasure.

He stayed in you long after your hearts had grown calm, and long after you should’ve cleaned up. You stayed there like that, his cock still in you — cockwarmed — until you both woke up later, and were still so entwined.

#fanfic #fanfic writer #tlou #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller thots #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfics #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #tlou joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller the last of us #the last of us joel miller #hbo max #tlou hbo #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel the last of us

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 28

Masterlist

Warnings: usage of a gun (training), fluff, mention of past trauma

Word Count: 3.8k

You tightened the straps on your backpack as you waited for Natasha and Wanda. There was a knot forming in your stomach. They were excited to meet you, but what if you disappointed them? What if they weren’t happy with who you are? “Hey,” Wanda placed her hands on her shoulders. “Breath. Take a few deep breaths for me.” You nodded and did that. “Good,” you turned to face her. “What’s going through your head?” You sighed, biting your lip. “What’s going through your head?” You sighed, biting your head.

“What if they don’t like me?” You whispered. It seemed ridiculous to say out loud. “I’m a little nervous.” Wanda nodded.

“I was too when I first met them,” she pushed some of your hair behind your ear. “They will love you. Just be you.”

“And take everything Alexei says with a grain of salt,” Natasha rushed over to you as the doors opened and the ramp came out. Natasha told you they had to part the jet a little further away from the house because Melina doesn’t want the jet’s engine to scare the animals. You descended the ramp and hoped the walk would calm your anxiety, but it became worse. Each step you took made your heart pound faster and faster.

The property remained you of the Barton’s homestead but more rustic. There was a main house with multiple outdoor buildings. As you got closer, you could smell and hear the pigs. “There they are!” A booming voice echoed through the quiet land. It came from a man with a thick beard wearing overalls.

“Yebat’ (fuck),” Natasha mumbled and pushed you behind her. Your body tensed up as you watched the man run over to the three of you. “Alexei, no,” Natasha warned.

“Natalia, my pride and joy,” he looked at Wanda. “Wanda, hopefully, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law,” you saw the couple in front of you tense up. “Move. I’d like to see moya vnucka (my granddaughter).” You weren’t sure what that word was.

“Not with that energy,” Wanda said. “Bring it down a little, or you’ll scare her off.” The man gasped.

“I would never! I’m her dedushka (grandpa). We are destined to be side by side like in American movies,” you peeked your head from behind the couple and saw a woman walking out of the house. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her arms were crossed against her chest. Suddenly, the man’s face was in front of yours.

“Hi,” he said. You yelped and fell to the ground, startled by his sudden appearance. “You’re so small.” He pushed past the couple and grabbed you by the arms, lifting you like you weighed nothing. “I could put you in my pocket.” The man hugged you tight. “I am your dedushka (grandpa). I can not wait to tell you all about my glory days.” The man swayed you from side to side, and your body went tense, frozen. Even Wanda and Natasha’s voice turned to white noise. You felt a pressure building that started in your chest. You had to hold it in; the charge would kill the man holding you.

“Alexei, vinz (down),” a new voice broke through the fog. “She is not a toy.” The man gently set you down, and you were shaky on your legs. The man looked apologetic, scratching the back of his head. You were sure Natasha was asking if you were okay, but your eyes stayed trained on the newest addition to the group. She grabbed hold of your chin, moving your head from side to side. “Alexei’s right. You are too small. Is Natalia not feeding you?”

“Mama,” the read head groaned. “She’s eating.”

“Not enough. Come, I’ll cook you something,” she dragged you towards the house, but you dug your feet into the ground.

“Wait,” your voice shook, and everyone’s eyes trained on you. “I need,” air couldn’t get into your lungs. “Nat,” you gasped. “Help.” Quickly, she opened her bag and pulled out a battery. She placed it in your hands and knelt in front of you. You wanted to yell at her to get back. To run because you were afraid to hurt her, but the words died on your lips. She sensed your hesitation.

“I got you, molniyenosnyy zhuk (lightning bug). Let go,” (release the energy). You slumped against Natasha, and her arms wrapped around you. “That was a big one. Take a minute, okay,” you nodded and focused on Natasha’s hand, rubbing circles on your back.

“Did I hurt anyone?” You whispered.

“No, Wanda pushed Melina and Alexei back with her powers.” Good. That was good. You stood up straighter and saw Natasha smiling at you. She pushed a few strands of your hair stuck to your forehead from sweat. You felt hot and hungry.

“Hi,” Wanda stood next to you, and you rested your head on her chest. “How are you feeling?” You huffed.

“Better,” you admitted. “Sorry, that was embarrassing.”

“I think someone else should apologize,” you turned around to see the duo walk back to you. The woman hit Alexei.

“Sorry about that. I was excited to meet you.” The man’s cheeks were flushed.

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “Hi, by the way.” you waved.

“Melina, Alexei,” Natasha placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “This is Y/n, our daughter,” your stomach flipped at that. You loved having someone be proud enough of you to call you their daughter.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Melina smiled. “We’ve heard great things about you,” her eyes pointed at you. “I still think you are too small.”

“Mama!”

*

“They are so cute!” You stood on the wooden pen for the pigs and watched Alexei chase after the piglets. They wanted nothing to do with him. Natasha laughed.

“Come on, Red Guardian! Didn’t you fight Captain America and win? Catching a pig for your vnucka (granddaughter),” you giggled and watched the man’s face twist with determination. You learned vnucka, which is translated to granddaughter, and the Russian words for grandma and grandpa are dedushka and babushka. Alexei was adamant about you calling him Dedushka. Melina shoved three bowls of chowder before she thought you were ready to explore.

“I got one!” A pig was pushed into your arms, and Natasha had to catch you before you fell off the fence.

“Alexei! What have I told you about manhandling my pigs?” You heard Melina call out and missed the murderous glare Natasha sent Alexei, too distracted by the little pig in your arms. It took a while for the creature to settle in your arms, but soon it pushed against your chest for warmth.

“It’s so tiny,” you whispered, so afraid to disturb the little creature in your arms. A weird feeling bloomed in your chest. It was strange how much faith the animal had in you. The pig trusted you to hold it close and protect it. Such blind faith. It was a little ridiculous, but it reminded you of yourself. You put faith in your parents and the man from HYDRA who promised you a better life. Now you were doing it with the Avengers. Was it wise to do it again? The third time is the charm, right? “What’s got you thinking so hard?” Natasha asked, running her hand over your head. You glanced up. She was smiling. Her eyes sparkled with love; sometimes, you forgot how much she cared about you. You smiled.

“Just, uh, thinking about life,” she chuckled, kissing your forehead. You basked in the warmth she provided.

“Never change, dorogoy (sweetheart),” you looked at her confused. “After everything you’ve been through, your heart is still good.” You frowned, unsure if that was true. You protected the pig with one hand as you climbed over the pen and placed the animal on the ground. It looked confused, turned to face, and ran to bury itself between your legs. You chuckled, pushing the creature towards its family. However, the piglet ran back to you.

“What’s going on, little one?” You asked, scratching its chin. “Why don’t you want to join your friends?”

“It’s the runt,” Melina said. You glanced over at her. “The others pick on it.” You frowned and sat down. The piglet climbed onto your lap and looked up at you.

“I was a runt, too,” you spoke softly. Your hand never stopped petting it. “I think we grow up to be the strongest of the group because we have to fight every single day just to survive,” you sighed. “And that can be scary, but I promise little one, everything will turn out just fine.” You felt a little crazy speaking to an animal, but the little pig seemed to understand. It glanced at the other pigs and back to you before joining them. You smiled and stood up. Wanda and Natasha were watching you with a smile. Yeah, everything was turning out just fine.

*

It was a long day. With the emotional trip to Sokovia and the surprise display of power, Wanda and Y/n were taking a nap before dinner. Alexei was outside finishing the chores he promised Melina that would be done, but due to the excitement, they slipped his mind. So Natasha was left to help prepare dinner with Melina. Sometimes, Natasha had to pinch herself to remind herself this was real. That the woman chose to be here, decided to be her mother, and that the Red Room wasn’t orchestrating this. It’s not another mission. This was real. It took a while for her to trust Melina and Alexei again. Yelena was the critical factor to help mend the relationship. She knew it was Yelena’s desperate attempt to have a real family. “It looks good on you,” Melina said, standing over the sauce for the beef stroganoff. Natasha hummed in question, focusing on chopping up the spices. “Motherhood. You fall into the role naturally.”

“You sound surprised,” she glanced over her shoulder, but Melina’s back was to her.

“Not surprised at all. You are a khameleon (chameleon). You adapt. It was like that in Ohio, the Red Room, and now with the Avengers,” Natasha wasn’t sure if what Melina said was a compliment. She turned to face the older Black Widow, and Melina looked at her. “Why do you look offended?”

“I’m not sure if I should take what you said as a compliment.”

“No?” She tilted her head. “You were always sensitive to that.” Melina walked over to the cutting board she was using and took it back to the pot. “I was trying to say it’s hard for us to be mothers, people like you and me.”

“Why is it hard?” She saw Melina’s stutter as she added the freshly chopped herbs into the pot.

“Because that choice was taken away from us,” Subconsciously, Natasha placed her hand where her scar was. The serum healed all of it, but she would never forget where it was. She dropped her hand when Melina turned back around to hand her the cutting board. “But you are doing good. Does that happen often with her powers?” Natasha shook her head.

“Not since she started training with Maria,” Natasha began cleaning the dishes she no longer needed. The farmhouse needed to be equipped with a dishwasher; she preferred to do it by hand. It kept her busy.

“Is she training to be an Avenger?”

“No, I mean she could join the team if she wants, but we are focusing on helping her control her powers,” Or help her fight this new threat that was possibly coming. She would have a long chat with Vision when she got back.

“Are you and Wanda going to have more children?” Natasha felt her cheeks warm up. “I would like to have more grandchildren to spoil.”

“Mama! We just adopted her. Give us some time.” Melina chuckled and wiped her hands on a dish towel. The gentle hand of Melina on her shoulder caused Natasha’s body to go rigid, but she turned around to face her. The woman places both hands on her cheeks.

“Throughout our entire life, every choice was made for us,” her voice was so soft Natasha had to remind herself who was speaking to her. “But you chose to be that little girl’s mama, and being a mother is the greatest gift. Cherish it.” It was hard for Natasha to look past the betrayal towards Alexei and Melina. Melina was the only mother she knew since the Red Room took her biological one away. Melina was part of the system that kept hundreds of girls trapped even when she was trapped herself.

The sudden moment was interpreted by the crack of a gun going off; the duo separated immediately. “There is a pistol in the umbrella holder by the back door,” Melina said suddenly. She nodded and raced to where Melina told her. It wasn’t surprising to her that weapons were scattered around the house. Once her hand came into contact with the metal, she remembered to take a few calming breaths. The list of enemies was long and still growing. No matter who was here, no one was taking her family from her.

She kicked the back door open and expected to see the backyard filled with enemies racing towards the house or Alexei fighting them off. No. Instead, she saw Alexei and Y/n at the gun range for Widows that stayed on the farm. There was a pistol in the teen’s hand, and the gun going off two more times caused goosebumps to form on her arm.

“Alexei, what the fuck are you doing?”

*

You spun around to see two very angry Black Widows armed with a pistol and a rifle. Safety placed the gun down like Alexei and Maria showed you, and you ran over to Natasha. “Nat, come look!” It was enough time for her to hand the pistol to Melina before you dragged her over to the makeshift gun range. “Look how well I did!” You were proud of your grouping: two head shots and two in the shot. You looked back at Natasha and your smile. “You look upset.”

“Of course I’m upset. Melina and I thought we were being attacked,” you cringed and glanced at Melina and Alexei. The older woman was radially speaking in Russian and heard the word ‘idiot’ a few times. Suddenly, the back door of the house busted open. Wanda’s eyes were glowing red, and her magic danced on her fingers. It died down when she saw her family and no threat.

“Oh, I’m in so much trouble.” Natasha grabbed your arm and dragged you back over.

“Explain, both of you,” Melina said when Wanda jogged over. You and Alexei shared a look.

“I woke up and heard you and Natasha talking in the kitchen,” you said slowly. “I went outside to explore, and Alexei, I mean dedushka,” you saw his smile from the corner of your eye. “Saw me walking around the training area. He said you made it for the Widows that sometimes stay here,” you knew it had to do with some rehabilitation program Yelena set up, but the details were fuzzy. It took a lot of work to follow any story Alexei told. “I asked him if he could teach me how to shoot a gun.” The two Black Widows said something in Russian that was not part of your daily language lesson, but Alexei cringed. Natasha stared down the man.

“And you thought it was a good idea.”

“Her mama, babushka, and tetya (aunt) are all Black Widows. She should know her way around a gun,” it was a fair agreement to make. “She gave me very good-” he snapped his fingers. “What’s the word? When the eyes get small and sad?”

“Puppy dog eyes,” Wanda said with a smirk. Alexei pointed at the witch. “She tends to use them to get something she wants,” you opened your mouth to argue, but the witch gave you a pointed look. You thought it was best to keep your mouth shut. “I was unaware you had any form of gun training.” She said to Alexei, who gasped in offense.

“I will have you know the Red Guardian is well-versed in many weapons. Guns, knives, rocket launcher,” your eyes widened, and you looked at him, excitement bubbling in your chest. “No!” He shot you down. “Do you see how much trouble we are in?” You slowly looked back at the trio.

“On a scale of 1 -10, how much trouble am I in?” You asked, staring at the ground, unable to look at the three women. Natasha sighed.

“You will be doing dishes for the rest of our trip,” you nodded. That was fair. Gently, Natasha lifted your head, and you stared into her green eyes. “No more weapon training without telling us.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, but the redhead kissed your forehead and hugged you. She smelt of garlic and onions.

“Scared the hell out of me, kid,” you nodded again. It wasn’t your intention, and you weren’t thinking when you asked Alexei. You felt tears form at the corner of your eyes, and she needed the hug far too soon for your liking. “Let’s see this grouping again.”

“What?” You questioned. Natasha pushed away a tear that escaped down your cheek.

“I’d like to see you shoot again. Make sure Alexei taught you correctly,” the man gasped, and it made you laugh. Before you picked up the gun, you apologized to Melina and hugged Wanda. With the short time you held a gun in your hand and shot it, it wasn’t your preferred weapon. However, with so many Black Widows in your life, you were going to keep that information to yourself.

*

Once the dishes were cleaned from dinner, it was another early night, but you could not sleep. Your sleep schedule was messed up with the time difference and the nap you took. So you got out of bed and walked out of the guest room. Melina had a bookshelf next to the dining room that you’ve been dying to look through. Many of the books in her collection were not in English, but you could tell they were science books. Your eyes found a photo album. Curiosity, you grabbed the album and flipped through it. Every photo was of two young girls: one blonde and one brunette. The images captured moments from Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. “It’s not a good idea to snoop in a Black Widow’s home,” you jumped at Melina’s voice, almost dropping the album.

“It’s also not a good idea to sneak up on someone.” The Black Widow chuckled, and you put the album away, but Melina grabbed it and walked over to the dining room table. Wordlessly, you followed her and sat down.

“Do you know how I became Natalie’s and Yelena’s mama?”

“Kind of. Yelena said a mission brought all of you together.” Melina nodded; the photo album was stopped on Christmas. “I didn’t ask specifics.”

“The Red Room needed agents to act as an American family to steal some classified information,” she traced the faces of each little girl. “When the mission was over, we gave them back.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You questioned. Melina closed the album and placed her hands on top of it. She was staring intently at you, and you felt small under her gaze.

“I wasn’t the mother my girls needed,” you frowned and took her hand. You flipped it over so you could trace the lines on her palm. Her facial expressions softened at the gesture.

“Are you the mother they deserve now?”

“I do not know,” she admitted. “But I’m trying to be. Not all of us get the chance to get two,” you understood that. You were lucky that you overslept that day, which landed you in the cafe simultaneously. If you were there at your regular time, you could still be living on the streets or bouncing between shelters. What a crazy what-if. “Never take it for granted.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay them.” Melina smiled softly.

“Love them as much as they love you,” the Black Widow said. “That will be more than enough.”

*

You were up early to help Melina work outside with the pigs and her small garden. It was hard work, but Melina filled it with stories of their time in Ohio. Even Wanda brought out breakfast and helped out. You told her that the dishes would get done after you helped Melina. You sat back on your knees and stretched your neck. Picking weeds out of the dirt was not your idea of a fun time, but it beat cleaning the pig pen or doing the dishes. The sun felt different out here compared to Iowa and New York. You liked it, and it made you think about what Natasha asked you about - living somewhere like this. Away from the hustle and bustle of the big city. A place where you could get your dog and have them run around the backyard. It was a good idea, maybe one day. “Mama, are you overworking my niece already?” Your head wiped towards the voice. Yelena and Kate were talking in the garden. You jumped to your feet and ran over to them. The couple caught you as you threw yourself at them.

“I didn’t know you were coming to visit!” You smiled.

“That’s because it was a surprise, bud.” Kate laughed.

“Did you think I would subject you to a full day of Alexei’s torment without me?” You giggled. “I heard you got into a little trouble.” You awkwardly shrugged. “Proud of you.”

“Yelena, do not corrupt my granddaughter,” the older Black Widow came over to greet the newcomers. “Kate, how are you? Is Yelena treating you well?” The archer blushed.

“Yes, Melina. I’m doing great.” The blonde’s mouth hung open slightly.

“Come, I’ll make you something.” Melina put her arm around Kate and led her to the house. “Yelena, close your mouth. You’ll eat a fly.” You used your pointer finger to close her mouth, and she slapped your hand away.

“Unbelievable,” Yelena said once her girlfriend and mother were out of earshot. “She likes the people we bring home more than her daughters.” You smiled and lopped your arms through hers. “How do you like Russia?” She asked as you both walked towards the house.

“I like it!” You said. It was the truth. “Just different than Iowa and the city.” Yelena hummed in agreement.

“It took me a while to learn that the differences we see make for a wonderful world.”

_

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#lightning bug #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x daughter!reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat #bishlova #melina vostokoff #alexei shostakov

[aris-ink]

in which jungkook eats y/n out or she sits on his face ( corruption aur or forbidden love)

why not both? 👉👈

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au

warnings: mentions of blood and violence (not towards the reader), mentions of smoking, pseudo incest, corruption, dry humping, oral sex (f!receiving), face riding, soft dirty talk, so much praise <3

His touch had a tendency to linger. Warm and earthy, keeping you grounded when you felt unsteady.

"Look at you. So fucking pretty."

His hands lay firm on your shoulders, refusing to let you turn away from the mirror.

You tried not to feel dejected, unable to help the sigh that fled your lips. While you appreciated Jungkook wanting to spend time with you and taking you to parties, it was hard to have a good time when so many girls there couldn't stand you. Especially your classmates; including his ex girlfriend, Eunji. In their eyes, you were nothing but a nuisance that hogged all of his attention. Poor, little loser who had no friends and needed her older brother to help her make some.

"So pretty," Jungkook murmured, pressing his lips into your temple. "Want you to have fun, okay? We can go home whenever you want."

He always kept his promises, so most of the time, you tagged along anyway. You didn't want him to see your discomfort. To your surprise, however, the hushed conversations about you died down quickly. Coming into college, instead of mean comments you found Eunji missing from your classes, rumored to have broken her leg over the weekend. Her friends avoided your eyes, and you couldn't help but feel uneasy.

A tsk. A flick of a lighter. Blood dripping from the banister of an abandoned staircase.

"Goddammit, Jungkook," a sigh. Smoke curling in the air. Namjoon's lips wrapped around a lit cigarette, and hands wrapped tightly around Eunji's pale ankles. "Messy kid."

All the same, he knew how to make you float on air; or at least, that was how it felt. But the further he sank into your heart, the further the pearly gates strayed from you. Perhaps you were never floating; perhaps it was all just Jungkook. Knowing you couldn't reach heaven anymore, he grabbed the gates and forced them down to earth for you, distorting reality around you. He didn't care what he crushed beneath their weight, as long as you were happy and by his side.

— "Just wanna hold you, baby."

The low, tired mumble didn't compare to the steel grip he had on your waist, nose buried in your neck.

Many people didn't realize that Jungkook was an affectionate person. He often pulled you into his lap when he needed to feel you close; and not once did you ever question his intentions. There was no one in the world who cared for you the way he did. Was that why you found yourself slipping away under his fingertips? Was that why you stayed so still the first time his hand sneaked under your skirt?

"You good, baby?"

You could only nod, not trusting your own voice. Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, caressing the inside of your thigh. For a while, he let you sit there, your back against his chest, your heart pounding away. You knew you should have said something, but his thumb was only close enough to the edge of your panties. He wasn't touching you anywhere else.

You tried to rationalize the situation, but it was difficult when your cunt was throbbing, soaking your underwear. Shame alone made you shudder against him, and Jungkook lowered his head, free hand giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Something wrong?"

The feigned innocence in his voice made your thighs clench. You shook your head, attempting to breathe calmly.

Jungkook kissed your cheek and removed his hand from underneath your skirt then, gently taking a hold of your waist.

"I'm gonna be late."

You could only stare as he got up to pull on his jacket. You looked so confused, so flustered.

"I'll see you later, baby."

But Jungkook liked to keep things casual. There was no need for apologies or lengthy explanations. That would only insinuate that he was doing something wrong, when he definitely wasn't. He just wanted to be there for you. In every possible way.

— "My sweet girl."

Bent over the bed, the picture of your abandoned homework and recent exam results disappeared from your sight.

With his hips pressed into yours, Jungkook humped you slowly, the bulge in his sweats rubbing up against your swollen clit.

"My smart, pretty baby. I'm so fucking proud of you. Fuck."

You mewled quietly, your stomach clenching and pussy dripping, staining the cotton material of your leggings.

Sometimes it was difficult to be noticed and appreciated; but Jungkook never let you feel that way.

"Feel good, angel? Yeah? Shit, want to feel you come."

The more life tried to beat you down, the more Jungkook's grip on you tightened, offering the kind of support and encouragement that didn't compare to anything else. He worshipped your body and soul, nourishing it with soft kisses and praises that filled your head up with beautiful, hazy colors.

"Always gonna take care of my baby," a murmured promise, followed by a hot lick. He practically purred as he buried his face in between your thighs, massaging your clit with his skilled tongue. You gripped the sheets beneath you, moaning softly, one hand trailing down to bury itself in his inky hair.

"Fuck yeah," the words were breathy, muffled, his tongue running up and down your folds. "So good. You're so fucking sexy."

You whined when he sucked your clit into his mouth. It sounded so lewd, his spit mixing with your slick, but he groaned so shamelessly you couldn't focus on being embarrassed. Your stomach was twisting, hips jerking when he released the sensitive bud from his hold.

He looked up at you, his thumb tracing over it softly.

"Come here," he mumbled, pressing wet kisses into your thigh. "You gonna be good for me?"

"Mhm," you managed breathlessly.

You didn't expect to be pulled up, his grip on your ass strong, his back hitting the mattress.

"Then sit on my face, yeah?"

Your breath hitched, knees already retreating backwards. Jungkook tightened his grip on you, ringed, tattooed fingers digging hard into your flesh, once again refusing to let you hide away.

"Baby, you better sit the fuck down before I make you."

With a quiet whine you gave in, letting him lower you onto his face, encasing his head with your thighs.

"Yeaah. Fuck. There's my good girl. Grind down, sweetheart."

Jungkook wasn't anything if not patient. He taught you how to ride a bike, how to-

"That's it. Gonna fuck yourself on my tongue? Yeah? Love this pretty little cunt so much, baby."

You were beginning to melt away, his tongue filthy both with words and in the way it thrusted inside you. You clenched around it, your hips stuttering before speeding up their rhythm.

"Oh! Mhm, please."

Jungkook always had a way of getting what he wanted; and what he wanted right now was for you to come all over his tongue without a single care in the world. He knew how to fuck you with it to achieve just that, aiding you in losing yourself, grinding harder. He groaned into your clit when your orgasm hit you, his mouth restless between your thighs to catch everything you gave him.

He didn't think he ever heard you swear before, and the dirty words leaking out of you along with cum had his heart and his cock jumping.

"Fuck, fuck! Ohh-"

A good, flat lick up your cunt, then a kiss on your sensitive clit as your thighs trembled.

"Good fucking girl."

Gently, he led you backwards to help you sit, but you practically collapsed against the bed rest, your knees nothing but cotton.

He was there immediately, one hand around your thigh, the other brushing your hair back.

"My best girl," he pressed a kiss into your lips, his taste mingled with yours. "My pretty baby. So fucking gorgeous. Felt good?"

You nodded, mind too foggy to formulate a coherent response.

Jungkook busied himself with pressing more kisses into your neck, each one tender and meaningful. "Always gonna love you, baby. Not gonna let anyone take you from me."

Your breathing turned into soft sighs, chills erupting down your spine. Jungkook was the only one who knew how to do that to you; and the craving you felt for him lessened any feelings of guilt for your actions, until they disappeared altogether. You loved him and trusted him with all you had.

So far, the love you've seen and felt from him, though, had only been the tip of the iceberg. You had no idea what lurked beneath in its frightening depths. But whatever it was, somewhere in the shadows, you could always count on it to hold you gently with its claws. Monsters had hearts, too; and his belonged to you.

#listen this is a mess and i am sorry #❤ #jungkook x reader #yandere bts #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts x reader #also thank you abel <3 #dffhdhsh

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them. 

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air. 

You envied them. 

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before. 

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse. 

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation. 

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it. 

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last. 

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively. 

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word. 

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether. 

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward. 

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded. 

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing. 

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you. 

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver. 

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway. 

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud. 

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went. 

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done. 

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

���────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living. 

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door. 

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no.  A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them. 

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing. 

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you. 

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not. 

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close. 

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food. 

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction. 

There was nothing. 

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

[heartfullofleeches]

How would the yandere bandits react if Sheriff reader got hurt or seriously injured by someone? Maybe they found Sheriff reader lying on the ground unconscious?

Tw: injury

Searing hot pain shoots through your abdomen as you collapse in a dingy alley way. Blood pooling around you; a forceful tug tears your belt from your waist, aggravating your wounds in the process. You suck in air through your teeth, willing yourself to turn on your backside. The fleet of your attacker rebounds against the dusty streets. Collecting the bile in your throat, you spit warm blood in their direction as one final hurrah. Coward. Fucker didn't even have the guts to finish you off themself. The reality of your situation crashes around you like another hit to your nerves.

Shit - is this really how you'll go out?

As sherriff, your life expectancy was always on a thin line, but this was pathetic. Gutted by some petty robber who managed to ambush you after getting a head start. If you were lucky, maybe nobody would find the culprit and you could died with some dignity to your name. That, or the hope none of your admirers fine you. You really didn't need anyone crying over your corpse - or going on a manhunt for your killer.

You shut your eyes. Ah well - it's best not to think about stuff like that for now. You needed rest. Just a little shut eye and you'd be good as new. You start to drift as wetness coats your hair and your breathing slowly steadies. The beat of your own heart growing weaker by the minute. Just need to rest...

"Holy shit- is that?"

"No... Hey, wake up."

"Sheriff?... Y/n?"

Please.

-

"Boss, we found them!"

The aloof leader breathes smoke into the night air. Finally, some good news. If the chase wasn't so fun, they'd have put a tracker on you by now. They straighten up against the gate they leaned on, cracking their spine on its post.

"Great! Where'd our favorite little fox run off to this time?" Their expression falls as the lackey wipes tears from their eyes; the first stage of worry kicking in as they wait for the reply.

"They're hurt, boss... real bad."

"what?"

"I-I don't know.. We found them behind some building and there's.. there's so much blood and it-"

The leader grabs them by the collar; pouring their anger into the fabric as its band chokes their comrade. "Be quiet. What the fuck do you think you're doing telling me all this shit while they're still bleeding out? Take me them. Now."

"Right! S-sorry..." The bandit guides their leader to where you were; the latter taking lead at times due to their hurry. Their adrenaline dies as they see you lying there; surrounded in a pool of your own blood and your following. They patched you up and provided you with as much comfort their makeshift bandages could give. None dared to move you after the first time; the moan of pain you emetted enough to confirm you were still alive, but terrify them to the core.

"Move aside." The leader steps through the small crowd, kneeling by your side. They brush matted hair from your face, caressing your cheek as their hand moves down. They wipe the stray tear that had fallen to your cheek before placing their arms beneath you. You groan as they lift you from the earth, but they hush your ache with a kiss to your skull.

"Shhh, it's alright. I know this won't be enough to take ya out - but rest assured that we'll take good care of you. Always. "

-

"More medical supplies and pillows?"

"Check!"

Your head is pounding.

"Food?"

"Got their favorites and everything!"

Where the hell are you?"

"Their clothes?"

"Nearly cleared out the entire wardrobe, plus a few souvenirs. Picked up a couple things from the shop as well."

"Gah!"

You shoot up like a missile; doubling over in pain from the start and applying more pressure to your healing tissue. You survey the area. You were lying on a bed topped with an entire layer of pillows, and get well presents. You're in a tank top; heavy lines of bandages wrapped around your injured torso. Messages are sprawled all over the wraps consisting of an alarming number of hearts. You go to cradle your throbbing head, only to come to the realization your wrist is handcuffed to the bedpost.

"What the f-"

"Sheriff!"

You're swarmed by hugs from all corners.

You instinctively freeze; fear turning to annoyance at the sight of the bandanas hanging from some of their necks. Weakened and outnumbered, you're left with no choice but you accept the group's embrace. One of the bastards is even wearing your coat and hat. You pat your waist, cursing under your breath at the lack of leather beneath your touch. A sharp whistle disbursts your little fanbase; a masked figure plopping down on the end of bed with a shit eating grin cross their exposed features.

"Sheriff! You've finally decided to join us! How kinda of ya."

"How.... how long have I been out?"

They tilt their hand back and forth. "Oh- say about six days, thirteen hours and some change - but who's counting?~

You jam the palm of your hand into your socket, rubbing away the ache behind them. "My... my belt. That fucker took it from me."

The bandits eyes widen in excitement. "Well now! Here I thought we'd have to fish for information on the bitch - but you just gave us the biggest clue! Thank ya kindly, sheriff."

They pull something from their pocket. A handkerchief carrying a few pils. They sit on the dresser by the bed, accompanied by a glass of water.

"Well, we'd love to stay, but we got business to take care of."

"Wait a minute...."

"Everyone, say your goodbyes so we can head out. Not like they're leaving anytime soon."

You start to protest as the bandits reluctantly leave you behind with another hug or a blown kiss.

"Hang on- let me outta here first!"

"We wil... eventually. .. possibly. First you gotta get healed up. Then we'll think about it.

The bandit leader winks at you as the last one files out.

"See ya soon, Y/n."

They gently shut and lock the door behind them. The group heads to the main hall to give you your rest - and talk about their next plan of action. Any kindness left in them dies as their leader takes their spot in the front of the room.

"Folks - Friends, looks like we got a hunt to plan don't we? The sack of shit that did this is probably going around to all their little friends with Y/n's belt like a trophy so there's only one course of action. Mounting their head on the wall like one. Any rejections?"

Not a single bandit argues as they all shout their approval. The leader chuckles.

"Shoulda added some liquor to the shipping list cause we're gonna have ourselves a party."

#Yandere bandits #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere #yandere harem #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling

[jeannineee]

Kinktober Day Seventeen: Outdoor Sex

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

warnings: smut of course, p in v, praise, this one’s fairly tame tbh. kinktober masterlist

“It’s odd, being back here,” Lucien said as he watched the clouds above, a far-away look on his face.

You accompanied Lucien on a diplomatic trip to the Spring Court, knowing his first time back would be challenging. After an entire day filled with meetings and discussion, Lucien whisked you away to a secluded flower field, on the edge of Tamlin’s estate.

The Spring Court looked like…well…spring. A vibrant display of tulips and daffodils covered the ground, filling the air with a floral scent.

You took in the scene before you, and turned your gaze back to Lucien. He seemed—wistful, perhaps. Nostalgic. The Spring Court had been his home for a long time. Mixed feelings were to be expected.

As if watching the gears turn in your head, Lucien pressed a kiss to your nose and said, “I’m fine, love.”

You smiled warmly, brushing your lips against his. “I know.”

“Do you?” He placed a hand over his heart. “Because I can feel your worry, right here.”

“You know I’ll always worry about you.” You placed your hand over his, which Lucien brought to his mouth, kissing your palm.

“I’m alright. I promise. Just…sentimental, I suppose.”

“But you’re not upset?”

Your mate arched a brow. “Upset? Not at all. In fact…” he trailed off, raking his eyes over your form. “I’ve been meaning to ask where you got that sundress.”

Your cheeks flushed at the hunger in his gaze. “Feyre had it made for me.”

“Hm.” A smirk crept on Lucien’s face as he traced a finger along the low neckline of your dress, goosebumps rising over your flesh.

Heat spread between your legs as his hand trailed lower, his thumb swirling over one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Don’t be a tease,” you said, half-pouting.

Lucien let out a chuckle at that. “I wouldn’t dream of it, love. You know I can’t deny you.”

You were half-tempted to argue, knowing full well that he enjoys denying you, but the words died in your throat as Lucien grabbed your waist, pulling you on top of him.

You planted your hands on either side of his head as you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. He groaned as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, the sensation making him harden beneath you.

You ground against him, whimpering as Lucien roughly squeezed your hips in warning.

“Don’t be a tease,” he hissed, echoing your earlier protest.

“Such a baby,” you quipped. As you undid his pants, the look in his eyes told you that you’d be paying for that comment later.

Lucien watched as you freed his length, and slid your panties down your legs. The two of you moaned in unison as you sunk down onto him, setting a steady pace.

Lucien placed his hands on your hips, guiding your rhythm. “That’s it, fuck, you feel so good.”

Your heart fluttered at the need in his voice. You braced your hands on his muscular chest as you rode him, unable to contain the moans that spilled from your lips.

“You’re so—shit, baby—so pretty like this,” Lucien said, groaning as your walls tightened around him. “Taking my cock so well.”

You could only whimper in response, the familiar heat that built in your tummy making it impossible to form a proper sentence. Lucien felt it too, guiding you to lay against his chest as he took over, thrusting up into you.

“Fuck, I know you’re close, love.” Lucien groped your ass as pounded into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over. “Come for me, come on my cock.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, babbling his name as your orgasm swept through you. Lucien cursed as your cunt milked him, releasing his warmth inside you.

Lucien stayed buried inside you as the two of you caught your breath. He grabbed your chin, swiping his tongue over your lower lip before kissing you lazily.

You savored the kiss for a few moments, murmuring against his lips, “We’re going to be late for the dinner party.”

“I could not care less.”

taglist: @azriels-shadowsinger @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @bbycowboi @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @fendyr @thegirlintheshadows101 @icey--stars @exoahgasebby @cassiefromhell @missusbarnes-rogers @danikamariewrites @cmay25 @anpacax0 @georgiastars13 @hannzoaks @impossibelle @harrystylesfan2686 @bookishbroadwaybish @girl-who-writes-stuff @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @iron-collector-traveler @captainsbaby @strawberryshortcake143 @glitterypirateduck

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar smut #smut #lucien x reader #Lucien Vanserra x reader #Lucien smut #Lucien Vanserra smut

[scar-lie]

I’m obsessed with your omega series<3

Omega Pt. 7 [Natasha]

Summary : They quickly rush Y/N and the twin to the medbay got quickly assisted by Dr. Cho and Banner, while they are waiting for Y/N to get out of Surgery, Natasha and Yelena got into a little argument and they didn't expect what they hear from Dr. Cho and Banner the news

Pairing : Alpha ! Natasha Romanoff x Omega ! Reader

Warning : Mention of Blood, Mention of attacked, Thought of violence, arguing,

Word count : 1,898

{OMEGA PT. 6} {OMEGA PT. 7} {OMEGA PT. 8}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Get the fuck away!-"

"Get Dr. Cho and Banner-"

"Don't worry, we're here-"

""Clear the fucking way!"

"Oh my god, what happene-"

"Over here-"

All the words are muffled for Y/N, even the beeping sound on her head and the sound of the stretcher's wheel making a noise.

"Dr. Cho, she's opening her eyes." You don't know who said that 'cause your eyesight is getting blurry and you're in and out of consciousness, but you can outline the people around you, and even though you can't determine who's voice is who, all of them have their own opinions and keep talking.

You know Wanda, Natasha, Dr. Cho, Banner, Yelena, Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Tony are the ones who're wheeling you through the corridor, each voice echoing in your ear and making your head pound with pain.

Everything is blurry, and it's happening too fast for you; one second you're in pain, going through labor, and the next you're laying in your nest trying to stay awake and strong for your twin pups, and now here you are being wheeled somewhere you don't know, either in the hospital or in the medbay, until you lose consciousness.

Nat, go upstairs and clean yourself; it's going to be like... hours before she gets out of surgery," Steve said, worried for the redhead that's walking back and forth, anxious.

"No, I'm going to stay here; besides, the pups need me," Natasha said blankly while chewing her nails.

"We will take care of them while you shower; you're covered in blood, Nat; you can't look after them in your state for now." Wanda interfered, putting her hand on Natasha's shoulder and guiding her to sit down.

"N-no...no, I wanna be here when—" Before Natasha can finish her sentence, Yelena interrupts her.

"Just fucking go! That's the least you could do!" Yelena shouts, looking at Natasha across from her.

"You don't have the right to raise your voice on me! Remember, I'm still your head of— Natasha got interrupted again.

"A fucking useless head of Alpha, yeah, I know, if it wasn't for you, Y/N would have been fine! You shouldn't have marked her! mated her if you can't stand up as her Alpha that she deserved! You should have stayed away from her! Yelena gave her sister a death glare.

"Yeah, like you're a good and well-deserved Alpha! Remember, because of you, your mate nearly died by your own bare hands!" Natasha spat out, standing up, as does Yelena.

"That was a different story. Yelena tries to defend herself against the mistake she made years ago.

"Oh, really, 'cause as far as I know, she's your mission; you even sold her to her mother. Yelena wants to attack her sister, but luckily Clint and Bucky hold her back while Wanda, Steve, and Tony hold Natasha to attack her sister too.

"Get off of me; I'm going to show her what a real Alpha is!" Yelena is trying to break free, but the winter soldier is keeping her ground in her spot.

"Oh yeah, really? Let her be and see where you'll be going. Before Natasha can finish, Maria and Thor get in the scene with two cute pups in their arms.

"Stop it, you two! Aren't you embarrassed? Y/N is in surgery; Dr. Cho, Banner, and other surgeons are trying to save her life while you two are fighting. Maria scolds the two who stop breaking free but still look at each other with their death glare.

"Whatever's happening to you two, put it aside if you two can't be in the same room together! Y/N will be needing some support system, as were these two pups, Show some respect!" Maria added, then she looked at Thor, who was mesmerized by the pup in his arm.

The two are going to start arguing again, and when Wanda senses it, she quickly outsmarts them.

"If you two can't fix this out now, then the both of you should go leave this floor! The least Y/N and the pups need is you two fighting, so either figure it out and stay here or get out and don't come back until you two figure it out." Wanda snapped at the both of them, and they both shut their mouths and sat down on the bench in the hallway.

Good," Maria and Wanda said at the same time when they saw the two quickly behave well.

"Ca-can I hold them?" Natasha asked, looking at the pup in her arm with different emotions. Maria looked at Natasha.

"After you clean up, they are only hours old; the dirt and blood in your body could make them sick," Maria said firmly, and Yelena smirked, knowing Natasha would probably leave anytime soon now.

"But-" Clint quickly stops her.

"No buts, Nat, go and clean yourself; it's for yours and the pups safety. We will be here when you come back; they're not going anywhere, I swear." Clint patted her shoulder, but she's still unsure.

"Go Nat; you could use some fresh air and freshening up to clear your mind," Steve said to her, and she nodded, standing up and going up to her room to have a cold, needed shower.

"What have I done?"

The four words keep echoing in Natasha's mind while she's standing naked while the water runs down above her head, down to the ground, and down to the drain along with her salty tears.

She can't seem to move a single limp on her body; she feels numb. The scene keeps replaying in her mind.

"She's going to hate you."

"She will never forgive you."

"She's going to resent you."

"She'll never gonna let you near her and the pups."

It's like a devil that keeps whispering in her ears and blocking the angel's voice with their devilish sentence.

To Natasha, she's a monster who killed children and innocent people who asked for her mercy and is now causing her loved ones lives to be lost because of her careless decisions.

Looking down on her clean hands makes her feel sick. Even though she washes her body, especially her hands, multiple times, she can still mentally see the blood stain on her skin—a blood stain from her former mate.

Now that she thinks of it, Natasha has lost the right to be her Alpha. Now that their marks on their necks are perfectly gone, not even a single scratch of their mark can be seen.

It only means that her rejection of you is a success; she is now again an unmated Alpha who needs to look for an Omega, and so do you if you choose to look for one.

And the thought of you in someone's arm, wearing their mark, clinging to them, and going home in your nest with someone made her heart ache; she couldn't imagine how she could get past that without ripping their heads off.

Natasha, are you okay in there? It's been hours, and we're worried something will happen. " Natasha got out of her trace when she heard a knocking sound in the bathroom door.

"Ye-yes?" Natasha said back, enough for the person to hear from the other side.

"Are you ok?" Clint repeated, worried for his best friend.

"Yeah, Ye-yeah....yeah, I'm ok, I'll....I'll be out in a minute," Natasha replied, shutting the shower off and drying herself, applying necessity to her body and changing to a clean pair of fitted grey tank tops and black sweat pants without the garter on the ankle and coming down to her toes.

She then does a single braid to her hair so if she holds the twins, there's no hair falling to their faces that can cause a rash or itch. Then she comes out, looking at Clint with guilty eyes. Clint patted the space beside him on the bed, so Natasha sat beside him.

"Clint, I didn't—" Natasha stopped herself and bit her lower lip, trying not to cry again, so Clint patted her back and ran his hand up and down.

"I know........I know." Clint gave her a gentle smile.

"Yelena's right, I'm a fucking useless head of—" Clint quickly cut her off, not wanting to hear it.

"I may not know what happened between you two or why your sister wants to kill you, but I know who you are." Clint started looking at his best friend, who's clearly broken.

"You're the infamous Natasha Romanoff, a cruel black widow, the head Alpha, but a soft one, protective, caring, passionate, and protective to your people, especially to your loved ones. There's a reason why you're the head of Alpha besides Steve." Clint took her hand and squeezed it, giving comfort to Natasha.

"I'm not saying this because I'm on your side or on Yelena's side, but I'm saying this because you're my best friend, and I know what's going on in your head. Clint tapped her head with his pointer finger.

"You are worthy of your title, and to Y/N, we all know that you're not a cruel killer, you're not a monster. You're just a human Natasha. People make mistakes. Human Natasha and we're human. We made mistakes we didn't want nor intended. I know what you did to Y/N is not right, especially of what she's in now—I heard the side of the story of Yelena and Wanda." Clitn quickly said the last term, to make Natasha understand.

"But you have pups to look after, now that their mother is in surgery and in need of a lot of extra hands to take care of them. You need to step up and be there, even if Y/N don't want you to." Natasha has a small smile plastered on her face just at the thought of him saying her pups

"My pups," she whispers, but Clint hears it, and he can see a smile in her voice.

"How are they? and Y/N?" Natasha looked at Clint.

"Why don't you go and find out?" Natasha nodded, standing up with Clint and going back to the medical bay.

Once they entered the same hallway, they saw Banner and Dr. Cho get out in their scrubs. Once Natasha saw them, she quickly ran in their direction.

"How is she? Is she okay? h-how bad is her injury?" Natasha rambles, and the team is waiting too for the news.

"We've been able to get out another pup that has been stuck in her belly, which makes the pup weaker and needs to be examined and observed. We want to make sure that there's no birth defect. We also needed to open her up because she's hemorrhaging. We believe she fell or hit something with her belly, making her blood vessel rupture. She also dislocated her shoulder." Dr. Cho finished and looked at Banner, which makes Natasha get anxious, knowing there's something more.

"And did you see something or someone around the area?" Bruce asked. Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Yelena look at each other.

"Yes, we didn't know who they were; we tried to chase after them, but they quickly vanished from our eyesight. Why?" Steve answered Bruce and put his hand on Natasha's shoulder.

"By her injury and deep wound, we believe she's been attacked....she has scratches, some deep, some not." Natasha clenched her jaw and fist, already planning many ways to kill the person who did this, and so was Yelena.

Taglist : @natashaswife4125 @fxckmiup

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanova #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #black widow #black widow 2021 #marvel black widow #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha x you #natalia romanova #alpha natasha #omega reader #omegaverse #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #yelena black widow #yelena belova #bucky #tony stark #steve rogers #clint barton #maria hill #bruce banner #mcu marvel avengers #marvel mcu

[lashiitailss]

Billy Loomis ✧˚ · .

TW ⚠️ : Blood, knife, cursing, betrayal..?

My opinion!!!

“billy..?” You called out from the living room as you just came back from work.

No response.

You then walked into the kitchen to see blood splattered all over the kitchen tile floor You then begin to panic as your brain wondered about who may the blood belong to. as you were thinking you got a call from an unknown number…

“Hello..?” you said as you picked up the phone. “Hello….” said a dark raspy voice from the other end. “who is this?” you asked as u locked your doors and windows. “Thats not important Right now… [Name]”

You then froze. How did they know your name? you then hung up the phone and started searching the house looking for billy and you still wondered whose blood was on your floor. u then went up to You and billy’s shared room and locked the door and shut the window blinds.

You then started to hyperventilate as you thought a killer was in your house. your phone then rang again. you stared at it as it was your mother calling… but… she died two years ago. you then shakily held the phone up to your ear as you answered it.

“Hello..?” you said slowly. “Darling, who told you to lock the doors?” the Dark voice said.

“w-what… i dont know what your talking about.” you said as you wondered as how he knew the doors were locked. “oh come on.. [Name] dont play stupid you know you locked the doors.”

You then stayed silent as the voice on the other end spoke again. “Check the cameras.” he said. “w-wha..?” you hastily asked. “Check the fucking cameras.” he said in a a more darkish tone. You then went to your desktop and typed into your computer and signed into your cameras and seen a someone with a dark gown and a white saddish..? mask thats frowning and they were holding a knife while holding a phone up to their ear.

“Im coming in.” after that last sentence he hung up and all of a sudden the cameras went blank as he heard the front door being broken down. you panicked and put your dresser towards the door and put your desktop by the window. you then remembered u had a bat in the closet.

You went into the closet and got the bat and stood by the bed clenching onto the bat for dear life. you heard things being knocked over down stairs and u heard glass breaking.

You then heard loud clacking boots walking up the steps as it was going through the doors and rummaging through stuff around the rooms but they then stopped at your door. all of a sudden it was quiet as nothing could be heard but only crickets.

That silence was soon interrupted by a phone ringing, then a loud banging on the door. you then screamed, they called your phone and knew where u were, even though the dresser was blocking the door it was slowly moving and he was going to get in.

You then stood in place and decided to wait for him to come and so you could face him and maybe even kill him.

The dresser then knocked over and onto the floor as the ground shaked a little. the door then boomed wide open and there u saw them. The ghost face looking man.

He then looked at you and just stood there until u screamed “BRING IT ON MOTHER FUCKER” he thought u were tough.. But not tougher then him. He then charged at you as you swung the bat as hard as u can but he dodged it. he then held his knife up and swung but he also missed aswell.

The two of you were breaking and knocking things down until you both got a hit in… he stabbed you on the side of your stomach while you hit him with the bat in his leg making him fall to the ground and you dropping the bat as the knife was still in your stomach.

You then started to feel all types of pain you never felt before. you felt woozy and dizzy and your nerves couldn’t seem to get together or focus on anything. Your head was pounding and your ears were ringing.

you then pulled the knife out of your flesh as your blood was on the knife and blood was pooling out of your fresh wound. you then put your hands over it to try and stop the bleeding. your eyes then become blurry as you see… two ghostfaces? were u going insane?

You then hear a rough and shrill voice coming from the other masked man, so you werent going crazy. “Damnnit ___ I told you not fucking touch her!” you couldnt quite get the name that the other ghostfaced man said due to your ears ringing. Great. u didnt get the name. you then closed your eyes for brief moments and then u seen billy come up to you. “[Name] look at me, c’mon look at me.” you then avert your eyes to look around the room and see the other ghostface man gone and see stu in the back on the phone with the police panicked?? “oh hello billy… how…how are you..?”

You then looked at him and asked with a smile, he then looked at you confused wondering if you were drunk or if u lost a few of your brain cells. “The Ambulance are on their way.” he said as he looked down at your bleeding wound and then his eyes went dark as his jaw clung together, u heard him clicking his tongue as his face then softed when he looked back at you.

He then wrapped your wound with a towel and picked u up and placed you in bed to wait for the ambulance. “just rest here sweetheart, ill be back.. okay?”

you then smiled and nodded as u turned ur head away. he then went over to stu who was outside of the door by the stairs.

you could still hear them. “you fucking idiot i never said to hurt HER!” billy said as his voice went rasp as he sounded a bit angry. “i thought you said Tatum AND [Name]!!” stu had said. “why the fuck would i say that?!?!”

billy aruged back, “Listen man, i dont know but tatum whacked me in the head with a whine bottle and got away” Billy sighed as he went downstairs with stu.

Billy and stu were killers..?

You then woke up in a hospital bed, you then sat up and winced as last night flashed in your head and u looked at your wound and seen that they patched you up with bandages but there was blood on the bandages it was okay still.

You looked around and saw no one, you then picked up your phone from your bedside table where there was flowers and a water bottle and a small little note on the table.

“ill be back to check up on you when you wake up if you need anything please feel free to ring the bell” - nurse

aw how thoughtful. but however the bell was all the way over to the other side of the room.

you then decided to play a small game on your phone to pass up the time but all of a sudden the lights begin to flicker and they went off. “what the hell?” you said as u sat up and turned to look through the window.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, even at the hospital?”

The door then swung open which caused u to jump and there he was, the ghost face man. it was either stu, or billy- “you should really watch that pretty little mouth of yours” he then shut the door and came closer to you.

you know that voice…

he then took off the mask, and it was billy.

“B-Billy..?”

“heyy…sweet girl, how ya holding up?” he asked warmly as he sat on the side of the bed.

you then looked away from him and backed up a bit in your bed. “y..you tried to kill me..”

you mumbled wanting to see his response.

“That was stu.” he said bluntly as his smile faltered. you then frowned as he put his hand underneath your chin so u could look up at him. “i would never try to hurt you on purpose, i love you.” he said as his gaze softened.

“i..i love you to”

Thank You for reading!! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

#slasher x reader #billy loomis #horror #scream #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x black reader #billy loomis x white reader #gore lover #betrayal #soft reader #innocent reader #dom!character

[gogh-with-the-flow]

Blood in the Wine-5

Chapter Five: Tannins

A/N: so, uh... it's been a while, huh? yeah... I'm sorry about that. but I'm two months sober, now. I just want to thank everyone who has been checking in and has been offering me support and kindness. I can't tell you all how much i appreciate it. Well, I hope this was all worth the wait! I feel like this chapter felt a little rushed, but let me know what y'all think. Love you! xoxo

Reader x Vampire!141

Warnings: Blood, injury, yelling, SMUT (I know y'all have been waiting for this) oral sex (f receiving), fingering, fem!reader, blood kink

(yeah I had to use the sexy Sleep Token song okay sue me)

MASTERLIST, CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4, CH6, CH7

---

Your feet seemed to move on their own accord, boots sticking in the mud. You tripped over yourself as you scrambled off the forest floor. And then you were running. You heard the haggard breath of the monster behind you, felt the hot puffs from its mouth on the back of your neck, but you didn't dare look behind you. You felt sharp claws graze across your back, tearing through your shirt and knocking you facedown on the ground. Before the monster behind you could completely overtake you, another body rushed past you. Sounds like animals fighting roared out behind you. Once again, your boots squelched in the mud and you got back on your feet. You kept your eyes forward as you sprinted through the forest. 

You should've been lost in a maze of trees and underbrush, but something in the pit of your gut told you where to go. The dirt pounding under your feet guided you, the trees whispered to you their secrets, and you followed the road of their roots systems until you broke out into the clearing once again. 

You squinted as the moonlight flashed in your eyes, so bright compared to the pitch blackness of the forest, and ran straight into something firm, but soft. Something familiar. You felt arms wrap around you, and your brain tried to tell your arms to fight back, but you froze all over again as a voice called out loudly next to your ear. 

"I've got her!" The voice was familiar. 

"Get her inside, now!" Someone else called from the other side of the clearing. Before you could register who was speaking, you were moving- or rather, you were being moved. The arms around you lifted your weight easily, and the world around you seemed to flash by in a slideshow of blurry snapshots. Your surroundings morphed into one another until your feet were planted onto the floor of Price’s study. Vertigo threatened to overtake you, but someone strong held you steady. 

“I've got you, love. I’ve got you,” the rich voice crooned. 

“Gaz?” you asked. Your whole body was shaking from adrenaline and your head was still spinning, but you recognized the voice. It was him. He shushed you gently. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you. You’re alright.” He seemed to be convincing himself as much as you. His hand stroked the back of your head, and the other held you securely against him. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you were willing to bet he was listening to it, too. 

“Gaz, what the hell was that thing?” you asked into his neck where your face was still buried. 

“Don’t-” then the study door burst open. You flinched, and maybe you screamed, expecting that Dead face to be the one to greet you, but instead it was one equally chilling. Price slammed the door closed behind him with a look of unrestrained fury trained on you. 

“What the FUCK were you thinking?” he roars, taking long, calculated strides at you. “You stupid, stupid girl. I give you one rule to follow, ONE RULE, for your own safety, and you can't even listen to that?!” Gaz, to his credit, does his best to physically shield you from Price’s rage, pushing you behind him; but he can only do so much. Your mouth opened, and you tried to find the words to defend yourself, but they got stuck in your throat, blocked by the terror you couldn’t get ahold of. 

“John, please, just-” Gaz starts to try and diffuse the situation, but Price shoves him away with a snarl, leaving you bare and exposed to his wrath. 

“Do you understand you could’ve been killed? Do you not understand how dangerous the night is here? He would have ripped you apart, had you stayed out there a second longer.”

“Wh… who?”

“You’re lucky he had enough self-control not to tear into you then and there in the woods. No, instead he sunk his teeth into the next moving thing he saw, which just so happened to be Soap.”

“What? Is he okay?” Gaz interjected, concerned for his- boyfriend? What were they to each other? Now wasn’t the time to think about it. 

“He’ll be fine… he’ll heal,” Price answers, scrubbing at his beard and screwing his eyes closed. “You…” he started, pointing a finger and taking a dangerous step closer. His eyes were dilated and he licked his lips. There was no doubt he could smell the blood seeping out of your back. “Now, what are we going to do with you? Hm? I trusted you, gave you freedom to wander. I thought you’d be smart enough to heed my warnings, but clearly you’re not.” He raised a hand, seemingly to grab at you, but stopped himself short when you flinched away, clenching the hand into a fist and forcing it back down to his side. He shook his head. 

“Should I put a collar on you like Soap? Hm? Or should I chain you up in the cellar? Maybe a bedroom is too good for you.” He was leaning into your face at that point.

“John, stop.”

“I tried doing this the easy way- Tried giving you a choice. But if you want to act like a prisoner, maybe I should-”

“John, that’s enough!” Gaz interrupted once again, putting a firm hand on the older vampire’s chest and pushing him back. Price looked at him, stunned. You assumed Gaz standing up to him wasn’t a common occurrence. “Look at her, she’s scared out of her mind already. You’re making it worse.”

“She deserves to be scared.”

“She deserves an explanation. She deserves answers.” Price considered him, chest still heaving in anger. 

“Fine. You want to give her answers? Go ahead.” he motioned between Gaz and you. “But for fuck’s sake, don’t let her out of your sight.” he looked at you once more, swallowed hard, and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him again. 

A moment passed in silence. Gaz stared at the door with a look of disbelief. But then his eyes snapped back at you when a terrified sob clawed its way out of your chest. Your eyes were unfocused and your arms trembled as you hugged them close to your body in an attempt to shelter yourself. Gaz took a tentative step closer, holding his hands out in front of him. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay," he cooed, speaking to you as if you were a wounded pet. Your body flinched away at first, but with more gentle words, you relaxed enough to allow him to place an arm around your shoulders and guide you to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Hey, look at me." 

Your eyes snapped shut and you turned away from him at those horribly familiar words. Look at me. How could you ever look at him again? He sighed and placed a hand on your cheek. 

"I'm not going to compel you again. I promise." You choked through a couple more sobs. You couldn't trust his word. He'd betrayed your trust irreparably. Even still, his voice sounded so sincere. But didn't it always? You opened your eyes. 

"There she is," he said, smiling softly. "Just breathe for me, okay? In and out. With me." He did his best to guide your breath, and tried to calm you as much as himself. He kept swallowing, his mouth watering at the smell of your freshly-spilled blood. "Nobody's going to hurt you in here," he told you, but you still felt like prey. 

"I c- I can't!" You gasped. 

"Yes, darling, you can. Please, your heart's racing like mad." You knew. You could hear ot pounding in your ears. It would have drowned out Gaz's voice if he weren't so close. And goodness, he was close. 

"Price is gonna kill me!"

"No, he's not."

"Yes he is!"

"He can't hurt you! He can't!" You shook your head, but he continued. "He literally cannot hurt you, love. Listen to me." You quieted yourself the best you could, the rush of blood in your ears quieting minutely. "Once we entered the pact with you to keep you as our familiar, a bond was made. Your pain became our pain. Everything you feel, we feel, too. Price can't hurt you without hurting himself and the rest of us."

"But Ghost hurt me out in the woods."

"And he felt it. We all did. Trust me. He was blinded by his bloodlust, he didn't have the mind to stop and think. He held back as much as he could." 

"How are you holding back, then?" you wondered out loud. Would he pounce on you at any second? Was your time running out? You noticed the tension in his shoulders, the same tension you held in yours with every stinging throb of the shredded skin on your back.

"With great difficulty,' he answered through gritted teeth. He met your eyes, his pupils blown. He swallowed. "Can you please turn around so I can close the wounds?" 

"Close the… you're gonna feed on me like this? Now?" you asked. Your legs tensed up, getting ready to run for your life again. 

"No! No. Not really. I mean, technically, I'll still be- well- consuming your blood, yes. But just what's leaking out already. I won't bite you, I swear. Just- please, you're dripping all over the couch, love.” He tentatively pushed on your shoulder. “And the smell, it's driving me mad. Please just turn around." The desperation in his voice was clear, close to begging. And the stinging behind you was getting harder to ignore with every passing moment. 

You turned around, exposing you bloody back to him. You reached behind you to tug the tattered fabric up your back, but Gaz was quicker than you. 

Rrriiip!

You gasped at the obnoxious tearing sound, suddenly feeling much too hot and much too cold all at once. The remaining fabric of your shirt fell down your shoulders and you crossed your arms over your chest to prevent it from falling off altogether. 

"Gaz!" You scolded, but your admoniment fell on deaf ears, and you gasped once more at the sudden feeling of his soft tongue gliding up your back. 

He licked up the dripping rivulets of scarlet blood that wound down the canvas of your exposed back, before fixing his mouth on the five slashes. The sharp pain subsided to a tingling as one by one, with each swipe of Gaz's tongue, the wounds sealed themselves. His tongue and lips felt so soft and plush. 

You'd never thought to consider the space between your shoulder blades to be an erogenous zone, but as Gaz kissed and licked his way all over you, taking his time to clean every drop of your blood, you found yourself panting with want. His breath was so hot against you, heightened by the wetness of his spit left behind. 

It must be their venom. It has to be some kind of aphrodisiac. 

Gaz kissed his way up your spine and into the scoop of your neck. His lips lingered there. He promised not to bite. 

"I swear, you're the best thing I've ever tasted in both lives," he whispers into your skin. Your body flushed with another wave of heat. 

"What does it taste like?" You asked, voice equally hushed in anticipation- for what, you didn't yet know. His fingertips brushed up your arms. 

"It's hard to describe… it still tastes like blood, that hasn't changed. It's more like our perception of it changes. Imagine going your whole life hating chocolate, and then one day you wake up, and suddenly it's all you crave. And everyone around you smells like chocolate. 

"Some of them smell like cheap candy melt chocolate," he says, pressing another kiss to your bare shoulder, "others smell like Godiva." He kisses you again, working his way up your neck. "And you, my love…" His lips touch that sweet spot under your ear. "You taste like the whole damn sweet shop," he whispers directly into your ear. His hand grips your arm, guiding you to turn back to face him. His mouth and chin were ruddy, stained with the remnants of your wounds. 

"Like the finest artisanal chocolate this world has ever seen." His eyes are fixated on your lips. Those dark, crimson eyes that you'd pretended were brown because you couldn't help but want to get closer to him. You were closer, now, that much was certain. 

His chest was pressed against your back, the fabric of his shirt a little too rough against the raw, sensitive skin. He really was close. Your breaths, panting in synchronicity, mixed together to form a tiny hurricane in the centimeters between your lips. 

"Bitter and sweet, rich and full." He licked his lips and your eyes darted down to the movement of it; slow, swiping along his bottom lip, collecting your lingering taste. "Addictive. I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." He smiled. "You'll rot my teeth right out of my head, you're so sweet." 

And then he kissed you. And God, you let him. His hand found itself cradling the back of your head, and you turned to fully face him. You tasted your own blood on his lips again and it was dizzying. 

This paradox of a man. Feeding off of you, draining you, but you'd never felt so alive before. Here in his arms, you were electrified. The terror of hardly an hour before was now long forgotten- a lifetime away. You found life again in the lips of a man who'd lured you to your near-death. 

Your ruined, bloody shirt slipped off your arms onto the floor. His palms rubbed up your sides as he devoured your mouth, though less literally as he did your blood. His tongue had made its way into your mouth at some point, and yours into his. You fell into a rhythm together, somewhere between tender and desperate. God, your heart was racing, and he could feel it. Every thumping beat rattled his ribcage as if it was his own; as if his dead lump of muscle had come alive again, fed by your crimson drippings. 

Your hands, trembling, fisted themselves in his shirt for a moment, then they fluttered like birds to his neck, pulling him closer against your chest. His shirt was still there. You wanted it gone. 

As if he read your mind, Gaz disconnected your mouths to discard his shirt, also wet with your blood, and tossed it on the floor with yours. He stopped to take you in, his eyes gliding over the ink in your skin, and then froze at your breasts: pierced. 

Gaz moaned. He glanced up at you, waiting for your permission. You answered by grabbing hold of his wrists and guiding them up your sides, to the front and finally onto your tits. He looked as if you'd given him the best gift he'd ever received. 

He squeezed your malleable flesh in his hands, rolling them, massaging them. He lit a spark in your cunt, and when his mouth attached itself to your nipple and sucked, the spark caught fire. You grabbed desperately at the short curls of his hair and whimpered. Gaz took this as encouragement, and nibbled lightly on the bud. You jumped, feeling his sharp canines graze your tit, but it never broke the skin. His tongue twisted around your nipple, and then he moved to the other breast.

The cool air against your spit-wet tit made goosebumps erupt under your skin while Gaz gave the same treatment to your second nipple. There was no hiding it: you were wet. His maroon eyes looked up at you while he sucked and you knew that he knew. 

He abandoned your tits to chase after your mouth again. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tight to his chest. The kiss was sloppy: wet with spit and tinged with blood. 

Gaz guided you onto your back. The leather couch was cool and soothing to your feverish skin. 

"Let me taste you," Gaz pleaded. His hands left their positions on your tits and glided down your body. You arched your back into them, until they landed on your hips, the tips of his fingers just barely hooking into the waistband of your jeans. "Please- fuck- please I need to taste you."

"I thought you already did," you said, unable to resist a little teasing. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at you. 

"I want. To taste. Your fucking. Pussy." He looked you dead in the eye as he said those words, making sure you understood each syllable. Something misfired in your mind, and you suddenly were unable to speak. This wasn't compulsion, though. This was pure arousal that weighed down your tongue. All you were able to do was hold his gaze and nod. He tisked his tongue at you. 

"Say it, love," he commanded. He kissed your lips again. "Go on, tell me what you want. 

"Taste me," you relented. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. 

"I thought I already did," he threw your words back at you. Two can play at this game, apparently. But you could play it better. You spread your legs for him and arched your hips against his hands. You leaned up and whispered into his ear. 

"Eat my pussy, Gaz." His body shuddered above you. His hands found your button and fly, and he pushed your jeans down your legs until they were stuck around your ankles above your boots. His brows scrunched together in irritation as he struggled with the laces. His eyes glanced up at yours at the sound of a soft giggle escaping your lips. He rolled his eye at you and in a flash, your boots were off and scattered across the floor. He smirked up at you. 

“How did you…?” you began to ask, and his smile grew wider as he rolled your jeans down and off our legs. He kissed his way up from your calves and nipped at the soft fat of your inner thighs. 

“Don’t worry about that right now, love. I’ll answer your questions after I make you cum on my tongue.” You shuddered at the low tone of his words. His eyes scanned over your body, moving down from your eyes to your chest, and finally to your dripping cunt. He lapped at the wet spot on your underwear with closed eyes and moaned into the fabric. He breathed in deeply through his nose, inhaling your musk. He cursed under his breath, already intoxicated on you. 

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he licked and lapped at your cunt, teasing you until you whined his name, begging for him to hurry up, to give you more. Finally, he took pity on you and hooked his fingers into your panties and tore them off your body, throwing them into the growing pile of scrapy, ruined fabric on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking down at your glistening pussy. He was mesmerized at the way it glimmered in the flickering firelight. He teased two fingers through your folds and spread them open. He touched you like the pages of a holy book: with reverence and awe. He took his sweet time studying the way your pussy moved under his touch until once again, you had to snap him out of his stupor. He glanced up at you for the briefest second, and then dived in. 

He licked into your lips and moaned aloud, finally getting a taste of your wetness. You whimpered when the tip of his tongue prodded at your clit, and he took notice right away. He licked it again, once, twice, and then latched onto it, determined to pull more of those perfect sounds out of you. He gazed up at you through his eyelashes, and you couldn’t look away. The fire in his eyes sent a fresh wave of pleasure down your spine. And then you felt it: how easily he slipped a finger inside, and you threw your head back in pleasure.

He curled it into you slowly, pressing up inside you at a spot that made your thighs shake. You couldn’t be bothered to keep quiet, and Gaz couldn’t get enough. He added another finger and shuddered at the way your pussy practically sucked his digits inside. He started to build a steady rhythm, gaining speed and intensity with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue, every suck of his mouth on your clit. 

You could hardly get enough oxygen in your lungs. Your chest almost burned with need, the tips of your fingers started to tingle. Your moans got louder and louder, until your shouts were reverberating off the walls of the study. Your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, something to steady yourself, and locked onto the curls atop Gaz’s head. His name tumbled from your lips. A prayer, a warning, a plea. You were close, and he knew it. He could tell by the way your walls fluttered and gripped his fingers; by the way your hips bucked against his mouth; by the way your back arched and your thighs twitched. He watched you, studying the way you writhed from him. His cock twitched in his trousers. It was him that had you moaning and coming undone on this couch. 

Your orgasm knocked the wind out of you. A sound that was halfway between a moan and a scream left you as your legs locked around Gaz’s head. You threw your head back, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, and gushing over his forearm; your cum added to the puddle of blood and slick beneath you. He groaned, lapping wildly at you, licking up as much of your taste as he could manage, drinking you up like communion wine. Sparks lit you up inside from your belly up your spine. You writhed against his mouth and hands, grinding your hips against his tongue until it was too much, until you felt like you’d burst. 

He lifted his head and let you catch your breath. He watched you twitch from the aftershocks and sucked his fingers clean of your sticky cum. When you finally opened your eyes, you saw him already looking down at you. He took his cue and crawled up your body, kissing your stomach and chest and finally your mouth. He slipped his tongue past your lips with ease and you moaned at the taste of your own cum. His hand cradled your head and the other wandered up and down your body. He settled himself between your legs and grinded his bulge onto your cunt. 

“Please,” he begged into your mouth. “Please, let me fuck you.” You dragged your nails down his abdomen, scratching the sparse coils of chest hair and the hard muscles on his stomach, past his happy trail and down over his pants to grab his hard cock through the fabric. He moaned lowly. 

“Yes,” you panted. “God, yes.”

---

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#cod #cod vampire au #cod:mw2 #call of duty: modern warfare ii #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #johnny soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #poly!141 #vampire!141 #bitw #blood in the wine #Spotify

[frenziedslashers]

C'mere, Honey-Bear

Pairing: Negan x GN!Reader

Warnings: No pronouns are used, but Negan uses a LOT of pet names. Established relationship, canon typical violence, swearing, sex - nothing real graphic, it's more just mentioned than anything. Negan loves you. OOC Negan, probably, idk. I was emotional and needed to write this.

REQUESTING INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

Negan had no idea what he was getting himself into when he ordered his men to line Rick and the others up. The night was still young, and Lucille was hungry. That was all he cared about for the time being.

"Well, well, well," He tutted after hearing some voices from the group try and protest the situation they were in. He loved seeing people on their knees for him. It gave him a sense of superiority. Like he was a King, and they were his peasants. Begging for mercy as his eyes jumped from face to face. Though he primarily focused on the men. Mapping out who he thought would be a problem. Like the big beefy red head that would totally kick him in the balls if he had the chance. Or the Asian kid, who he just knew would be a problem in the future.

He wanted to bash their brains in. It was who he was now, he couldn't help it. In this world is was truly kill or be killed, and he wasn't about to let some new comers step in and kill him. Not when he was the top dog of D.C. Fucking Washington D.C., what more could he ask for?

The whimpers were enough to have his hair stand on end. Crying as he he stepped upped to home plate. Ready to swing and hit that winning home run. All until he heard a little voice. A voice he completely thought he had imagined.

"Negan?"

It was so soft and feathery light. Like the person saying it was a mouse in his ear. He recognized it from somewhere, but he couldn't place where. It had been so long since he had heard that little scared voice.

"That's my name, don't wear it dry, honey," He sing-songed into the night air, eyes scanning every each and one of the faces before him. Until they landed on the one who dare speak his name. You. A face he hadn't seen in a long time. A face he thought only visited him in dreams.

Now, Negan was far from a touchy-feely guy when it came to nights like these. Nights where all he wanted to do was prove a point. These nights, he was all about busting balls and cracking skulls. But he was frozen.

His eyes were locked on you, Lucille lazily hanging in his hand. The tip of her head brushed the ground by his feet while his heart thumped in his chest. All he could hear was the beat of his own heart. It was like a drum pounding that wouldn't stop.

"You.." That was all he could say. Everyone was looking between the both of you. The tears that stained your cheeks, blood that equally stained your lips, and other portions of your face. You put up a hell of a fight with his men, but he still recognized that gorgeous face of yours.

"Sir," Negan held his hand up, quieting his men. It seemed to get him to gather his thoughts a bit more. His whole demeanor changed, and everyone in the area noticed. He went from Mr. "I got an itch to scratch and it's your head against my bat." To something none of his men had ever seen. Something softer. It scared some of them, even. What would his next move be? Would he pretend to like you and then hit that winning home run? Or would he drop the bat and forfeit the entire game? All because of one meek and tired voice, that called out his name into the night air.

He took quick steps over to you. Dropping to his knees in front of you. The King fell for what used to be his Majesty. His other half. He used to be your Knight, and you his Ruler, but things changed. The apocalypse happened. "I thought you died," he muttered, voice soft, only for you.

A cry fell from your lips, and by golly did he want to punch the nearest person to the left of him. Even if they weren't who made you cry, and it was all him. He hated seeing you do such a thing. "Negan," Hearing his name fall from your lips again made his heartache. He never thought he'd hear it again. His eyes fell shut briefly before the man reached out to touch the side of your face. "Baby, I'm so sorry," he frowned once you flinched away from him. You had never been scared of him in your years of being together, but here you were. Shivering like a mouse confronting an old Tom Cat.

"Negan, let them go, please, don't hurt us, this isn't you," He frowned deeper. You were right, this wasn't him. This was a charade he picked up in order to survive. "I'd never hurt you," he muttered, finally able to reach out and brush his knuckles over your cheek. "But who did? Was it one of my men?" He asked, and you nodded, a glare settling on his face. "Point to me baby, which one?" Once motioned, his eyes were locked on the man. "What have I said about hurting people before I see them?" Negan snapped at his man. The guy flinched at his harsh tone. "I'm sorry sir! They were fighting with me!" "And you're a big guy! You can't handle yourself without bloodying up an innocent person? My innocent person?" He snapped, noticing you flinch in front of him.

God, he didn't know what to do. He was still mad at Rick and the others for the damage they caused, but he knew you. He loved you. He never stopped loving you. Even when he thought you died he still kept that stupid ring and necklace that you got him. Along with a photo of you that he carried anywhere he went.

"Honey bear," he cooed, "Do they take care of you?" You sighed at the pet name, closing your eyes while pursing your lips. Nodding softly, "Yeah, they do." He hummed at your voice, reaching out to grab your hand which you squeezed back. Falling forward in order to wrap your arms around his neck.

Negan dropped Lucille in order to catch you. Holding you close while his men stared in shock. This wasn't like Negan at all. Any other person he found he'd be ridiculing them. Making fun of their future death or hitting on them and offering them a nice fuck if they were up to it. He was never this gentle. Never.

The sigh that he let out was loud. Everyone stared awkwardly and anxiously. Waiting for his next move. His eyes parted, still keeping you in his grasp. Negan looked at Rick with pursed lips, and a slight scowl on his face, but it was quick to fade. "You kept them safe?" He asked, and Rick nodded, "We all did. We're a family," Negan rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for a life story. Not when he just got you back. "Spare me your sob story, Prick," He spat, and felt you nudge him with your hand. A soft apology left his lips - another thing his men had never seen. "Well, I want to thank you," He spoke, genuine words that fell from his lips. Rubbing up and down your back in a comforting manner.

No one could believe what they were hearing. Rick was certain that someone was going to die that night, but maybe since you happened to come along for Maggie's sake, maybe you saved everyone. "Look, I'm still pissed about my men. Hell, you wiped out a lot of innocent people. But, I might just have to let that slide knowing that you kept my honey bear safe." You couldn't help but giggle lightly hearing the nickname again. Negan smiled while his eyes darted down to where your head was still buried in his shoulder.

God, he missed you.

"I thank you, really. I'd like to repay you by.. Not killing your people," Rick nodded, everyone seemed to ease up at that information. You as well. "Thank you," Negan held his hand up to stop the Officer. "Don't thank me yet, you still have time to prove me wrong. I still think you're a murderous psychopath. Anyone could be friendly enough to help a major hottie like my baby here," he grinned, "Negan, stop." You protested, and he snickered. He loved getting under your skin.

"So, I'd like to make a deal with you. We join forces, so long as you don't kill any more of my men. What's yours, is mine," he spoke, a stern look in his eyes. "But, with that being said, I'll help you with whatever you need, too. Protection? We got the men. Medical? We could arrange something. Women? Well, maybe not that," He spoke with a shit-eating grin. Finally pulling you both up to your feet, Lucille abandoned on the ground. His hands found better things to grab.

Rick nodded, swallowing thickly. "Thank you, we all appreciate it," Negan shrugged, he had better things to focus on. Holding the sides of your face with a grin as you smiled back up at him. "No need, Rick the Prick," You rolled your eyes at his words. "I found a better way to spend my night anyways," he hummed, his smile quickly growing mischievous. You felt your body heat up at the remark. Eyes darting to the side out of embarrassment. "Now, come on, darlin'. How about I show you my joint, I'm sure you'll love it! It's safe, and I can make you that pasta you used to slurp up faster than my dick!" You let out a groan, rolling your eyes for the millionth time, but your smile ceased to fade. "You still blurt the stupidest things, Neeg'..." You sighed, and he snickered. An arm came to rest around your waist as he walked you over to his truck. "Well," He shot a glare over to the man that busted your lip and gave you the scraped cheek. "I haven't really changed that much." he purred, leaning over to kiss the side of your head.

Once you were in the safety of his truck, Negan ordered his men to let the others go. Telling them to inform Rick that they'd be back a week max in order to keep their promise of working together. Along with you being able to visit your friends and maybe grab some of your things to move into Sanctuary with him. Hell, maybe he could move to Alexandria with you if he liked the place enough. Make it an even safer outpost for him and his men - along with your 'family'. Hey, maybe you two could start a family of your own. Adopt a kid - maybe a dog or cat if there were still any in this shithole world. It was sure something he'd love to talk about with you in the future. Once the both of you got cozied up wherever you both decided to stay, after all.

"Did you miss me?" His voice was lower, staring at his lap before looking back over at you. "Of course I did, Papa bear," He smiled at the nickname, "I never stopped thinking about you, or hoping that I'd find you. Hell, I told the rest that I came in order to make sure Maggie was safe, but honestly," You grabbed his hand with a sigh. "I was hoping and praying the Negan we were dealing with was you." His smile only grew at your words. "You're a big enough asshat to pull all this off." He rolled his eyes this time, letting out a sigh. "Hun, you give me too much credit."

He wished he had a little more faith that you were still alive and out there. You were in Atlanta, Georgia visiting your family when this all went down, though. You couldn't blame a guy for giving up after not seeing his lover in nearly twelve years. It took a toll on him, and he would beat himself up over it 'til the day he died.

"Did you miss me?" You shot the question back at him, and he was quick to grab both of your hands. Scooting closer to you since you were both in the back seat. "My gorgeous, gorgeous, flower, I never stopped thinking about you, Every mornin' I wake up I hope to wake up next to you. Your sleeping face all peaceful and shit. I hope each and every goddamn time when I get out of the shower you'll be standing there, looking yourself over in the mirror before showing me a new shirt ya got. I've missed you so goddamn much, you don't even know," He muttered, a hand reaching up to hold the side of your face. "Look," he stated, pulling the hand back to reach down his shirt, and pulling out the necklace with the ring attached to it. "I still have that stupid ring you got me on our three-year anniversary." He smiled, and you did the same, looking it over in awe. You couldn't believe that he still had it. "I thought you hated that ring?" You asked cheekily, and he shrugged. "Do you believe everything I say?" You giggled, shaking your head 'no'.

The moment that you both arrived at the safety of the compound, Negan was dragging you inside. A hand on your hip in order to show everyone that you were off limits. You were his lover, no one else's. "Let's get ya cleaned up, then we can go lay down. I'll show ya around tomorrow, how 'bout that, sweetie pie?" You nodded, leaning against his side with a sigh. "Thank you, handsome," he grinned, "Well, don't mention it. I still got a reputation to keep. Gotta keep these men working for me!"

His hands were soft as they helped you clean your face off once in his bathroom. Brows furrowed as he focused on cleaning your cuts and not hurting you more than the disinfectant did. Muttering soft 'sorry's anytime you flinched. You knew he didn't mean it, though. "Baby, I'm so sorry this happened to you, I never meant for you guys to go and get hurt yet, I-" "Yet?" He frowned, "Well, you guys killed a lot of my men. Ya can't blame me for wantin' some of ya dead in return?" You frowned, rubbing your fingers together a bit nervously. "Hun, I won't be hurting none of your people anytime soon. You have my word, I promise you that." He sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

You pondered his words, but ultimately believed him. If he did break that promise you wouldn't know what to do, but you prayed that he wouldn't. You knew Negan hated seeing you upset, and you only hoped that he truly hadn't changed that much.

You reached up to hold the sides of his face, staring at him for a moment before leaning in. Finally giving in and kissing him. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you the moment he knew you were real and not just his mind playing tricks on him, but honestly. He was terrified that you hated him.

His hands dropped everything in them. One hand resting on the back of your head, the other gripping at your thigh as you rest seated on the bathroom counter. His hips slotted between your thighs. "God, I missed you so fucking much," He muttered against your lips. Both of your eyes shut while you each clung to one another. Sharing kiss after kiss until Negan had enough of standing.

The leader was quick to lift you off the counter. Carrying you by your thighs into the connected bedroom that he called his own. Lying you down on the bed while climbing on top of you. His kisses growing more feverish and hungry. He was like a starved man given a full meal for the first time in ages. Soft breaths bleeding with your own while his hands touched and groped at your body.

The moment that you were tugging at his shirt with a desperate need to remove it. It was gone. His jacket and shirt both shrugged and tugged off, thrown messily on the floor by the bed.

His body was more aged than the last time you did this with him. Scars and cuts littered his chest and stomach, your fingertips brushing over each one that your eyes saw. He only smirked a toothy grin, "Miss it?" You snorted, "You're still just as cocky," He hummed at your response, leaning down to kiss the side of your throat. "Oh, you know it, baby. I'll die cocky too."

He was quick at removing your own shirt next. Allowing both his hands and mouth to explore your skin. Groping your body while he got to work at kissing and sucking. Biting over your stomach in order to leave marks on you. He missed marking you up for the masses to see. Let everyone know that you were his. His. His. His.

The activities progressed. You and Negan showered each other with the affection that you both missed. Tossing and turning in bed while he fucked you like a madman and then vice versa. Both of your hips were sore by the time he got done with you. Each of your bodies covered in scratches, bites, and hickeys. He couldn't have asked for a better night. "Shit, honey bear," he panted, you laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling. "I forgot how much you wear me out," a breathy laugh left his throat, and you only sniggered. "Go ahead and get used to it, babe, I don't plan on this being a one-night thing." He snickered, excitement coursing his veins. "Good, because I wouldn't let you go without a fight, babe."

He couldn't believe that you were back in his life. That he was actually holding you in his arms. After you both gave each other the best night you both have had in years. He couldn't let go of you, not when he just got you back. His arms were tight around your body, keeping you close in order to make sure that when he woke up this wouldn't be a dream. That he wouldn't wake up to empty arms and a cold bed. He was almost too scared to go to sleep, but having you back in his arms was like taking a sedative. His eyes slowly falling shut while he pulled you a little closer. A soft 'goodnight, love' falling from his lips.

When you woke up, you were met by a soft smile and tired eyes. Negans hand resting gently on the side of your face. Brushing your cheek with his thumb. "Mornin' gorgeous," you felt your heart race just from hearing the sound of his groggy voice. Smiling back while reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling him in for a lazy kiss. "Mornin', asshole," a soft chuckle left his throat, "That's how ya feel huh? gonna call me an asshole now when I'm fairly certain the whole compound heard you screaming my name last night?" Your skin felt hot at his words, but you weren't about to let him win. "Oh yeah? You weren't any quieter Mr. "Oh fuck, oh shit, right there, shit, faster baby!" He furrowed his brows with a pout. "I did not say that," "Oh, but you did," you cooed, kissing the corner of his lips. Pressing on his chest in order to get him to move on his back. Stradling his hips like you had the night prior.

He was quick to pull you in for another kiss before he said anything, though. Pulling your hips down to meet his own. Both of you released a moan into each other's mouths. "Man, I love you, you know that? Don't think I've ever met anyone who's as feisty and cocky as you, well, besides myself." He grinned, and you sighed, kissing his cheek before laying down on his chest. "I love you too, you asshole." You responded, which earned a soft chuckle from your lover beneath you. His hands rub softly at your back and sides. He swore at that moment, that he was truly the happiest man on the face of the earth. If not that, then he was definitely the luckiest.

#negan twd #negan the walking dead #negan smith #negan x reader #x reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #notsfw #minors dni

[mockerycrow]

Heyo! Can I request a Russell Adler x fem!reader w/“You son of a bitch, you promised me we’d grow old together. You promised me!” Angst where reader is a traitor working for Perseus who faked her death in Vietnam when Adler got his scars? 🐦‍⬛💙

GLIMPSE OF YOU (Adler x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; you are not bell in this fic!! bell is a separate character from you. thank you!!

[WARNING; angst, implied flashbacks.]

ADLER RUBS THE sleep from one of his eyes as he shuts his car door, keys in his other hand. It’s quite late; not too uncommon for him to be called to the safehouse at this hour, but it’s unusual to be called by Lawrence of all people. Park, yeah. Lazar? No doubt. Hudson? He’s always up Adler’s ass, no question. Lawrence, though? Must be personal. Adler pockets his keys before walking to the garage door and he bangs his fist on it a couple of times in a specific pattern, his eyes glancing around and landing on the bugs harassing the overhead light. Adler ignores the way the light burns his retinas. A minute or two later, the garage door screeches open to reveal the inside of the safehouse—all of their evidence and what-not.

His eyes land on Lazar who stands by the garage door, motioning for Adler to walk in. The air is oddly still and thick, kind of like it’s clogging Adler’s lungs as his shoes thump against the ground with every step he takes into the garage. Everyone is here; Hudson, Park, Lazar, Lawrence— Bell. Lawrence and Adler lock eyes; and boy, does Sims look nervous. It makes Adler’s jaw tense, a quiet click coming from his jaw screaming from the internal pressure. “What is it?” Adler gruffs, his tone still thick with sleep.

Lawrence is holding a file and a photograph, raised just high enough so Adler can’t see the contents just yet. “Y’gotta promise to not freak out too bad.” Lawrence’s tries to negotiate, but that only makes Adler’s eyes narrow underneath his sunglasses. He puts his hand out and does a tiny gimme motion towards Lawrence who sighs. He glances between the file, the photo, and Adler reluctantly before he slips the photo back underneath the paper clip that is attached to the file, slipping it into Adler’s waiting hand.

Adler’s heart drops when he sees a photo of the beautiful girl he knows—no, once knew. His chest tightens as his eyes lay on a photo of you, only older and more rugged. Dead and angry eyes. A version of you he’s never seen before; he’s never known. “What the fuck?” Adler spits through his teeth before he glances down at the file, reading your information, with the fucking affiliation of PERSEUS instead of MACV-SOG or even fucking CIA. “What the fuck!” He shouts louder, his heart pounding in his ears. He’s supposed to be reading your file from Vietnam, you died in Vietnam, you died there so why the hell are you on this goddamn worthless piece of paper, saying you’re aligned with Perseus?

Adler blindly walks with the file into the developing room, brushing Bell’s shoulder, who was barely able to get out of the way in time. He slams the door closed as he inhales shakily, the memories flooding back into his mind. The terrified and angry feelings during Vietnam overtake his senses; he can nearly hear the shouting and the gunfire, the fucking explosions—Adler’s eyes squeeze closed as he can feel his face being torn apart again.

An image of you pops up in his head, you wearing your uniform, an M16 lazily laying in your arms as you smile at him. Your eyes exhausted yet shimmering, somehow not being dampened from the horrors around you two. It makes present day Adler wonder if Perseus is the reason why your eyes are no longer shining in this photo. “You son of a bitch..” Adler grits lowly, his eyes opening with a new found fury as he looks back down at your picture in the low red lighting. “You promised me we’d grow old together.” He pushes out harshly, avoiding the break in his tone that threatened to spill out. “yOu FUCKING PROMISED!”

No one mentions the way Adler is more snappy, somehow more serious than before—not even Bell, who is ultimately confused on who you are. They remember a bit about you, but it’s blurry—like you weren’t meant for their eyes. Odd.

#call of duty #cod #cod bocw #bocw #russell adler x reader #russell adler x fem!reader #russell adler x you #russell adler #crow’s 4k celebration #cod russell adler #russell adler cod #cod black ops cold war #black ops cw #black ops cold war #call of duty black ops cold war

[uniquevoidflowers]

A fic for @luna-lovegreat

The request: "wild did something dangerous (of course) but he could have died but honestly didn't think about it and then the others are like you idiot you could have died but he thought it would have been fine and was saying so and then he realized he didn't have miphas grace anymore. It could be even more evil if it involved water so he was wearing the Zora armor >:)"

A huge splash.

“RANCHER!”

Wild’s head whipped around so fast he could’ve gotten whiplash. He climbed atop a cliff, a safe distance away from all the monsters and searched the battlefield for Twilight. There was no sign of him, only the other links stabbing and slashing enemies. But Wild did notice a Lizalfos sneering and pointing at a spot in the lake nearby. He pulled out his bow and tried firing an arrow but he was too far away. “Pup?” Time called, panic in his voice.

The cook gritted his teeth and then ran off the cliff. The air slowed and time almost stopped. He could see wide eyes and mouths moving but didn’t care. Wild nocked an arrow and watched satisfied as it pierced the Lizalfos head, and then time resumed and he was falling rapidly to the ground. “What are you doing?!” Warriors shouted. 

He pulled out his paraglider and caught himself, then sailed towards the lake. He let go of the paraglider and landed safely on the ground. “Twilight?” He yelled.

The cook saw a dark blob deep in the water and his breath caught in his throat. He quickly pulled out his slate and soon with a swirl of blue, his champion’s tunic was replaced with the Zora armour. 

I’m coming, Twi.

Then he leaped into the water. He began to sink underwater and his heart raced and panic made his stomach churn. Wild had never liked going underwater, but goddess-dammit he would do this for his mentor. He sank towards the dark blob, and sure enough it was Twilight, eyes closed and slack. The cook tugged at his arms but the ranch hand wouldn’t budge. Wild’s lungs began to burn. He flailed for a moment. 

The Shrine of Resurrection. You died. You failed everyone. 

No, he thought. He has Mipha’s Grace, she can help him. The cook shook himself out of it and found that Twilight’s leg was caught under a rock. Wild pushed the rock until it tumbled off Twilight’s leg and then he pushed Twilight up, ignoring the agony in his lungs and nose, and the blood pounding in his ears. Someone grabbed the rancher and he relaxed a little, before realizing he was sinking again. Water filled his throat as he coughed and his vision began to turn black. 

__________

Warriors heard the second splash and jerked around to see the cook gone now. He paled as he realized Wild had likely gone in. “Cover for me, Sprite!” Warriors demanded and took off towards the lake.

He was able to see two blobs in the lake and reached out towards it. A freezing cold hand just barely brushed his, so the captain grabbed it and pulled it up. He saw the rancher there and quickly got him on land. There was no Wild, but Twilight’s lips were blue and he wasn’t moving or breathing. “Fuck.” He cursed and began chest compressions.

After awhile Twilight convulsed and water spilled out of his mouth as he began hacking and throwing it up. Eventually Twilight slumped and laid on the ground, thankfully now breathing. Warriors pulled out a potion and helped the rancher swallow it. Colour returned to Twilight’s face and his breath evened. “Where’s the cook?” Time shouted.

The blood drained from the captain’s face. “Someone watch over Twilight I’ll be back!” Warriors barked and inched closer to the lake.

“Don’t try anything reckless, cap! We’re already down a few fighters!” Sky called.

Warriors lost track of Wild and swore. “Take this!” Time suddenly threw a suit at Warriors.

Warriors held it for a few seconds before recalling Mask wearing something similar and he put the suit on as quick as possible. Then he dove into the water. Surprisingly, the suit helped him breathe underwater easily so he began searching for the champion. He swam for a bit before spotting blonde and a lighter blue. The captain rushed towards Wild, and wrapped his arms around him before slowly swimming up. Something hit Warriors upside the head and his vision blurred before he heard a cackle and then another thing hit the captain. He was forced further into the water. His head throbbed badly. That wasn’t a good sign. But the captain was reminded that Wild was probably dying or dead and he swam up despite the thing that was hitting his head repeatedly. He got above water with a gasp.

 “—rs, Wa—, Wars!” 

A hand helped him back ashore. “Sky?” Warriors slurred, his head pounding.

“Yeah. Time and Wind are handling the last few Lizalfos.” Sky informed him, worry shining in his eyes.

“Where’s Wild?” Warriors asked.

“Right next to me…He’s…He’s not breathing.” Sky choked out.

Warriors tried to move to get to the cook but his vision whirled and he had to stop. “Don’t worry I’m coming!” Hyrule screeched, eyes wide.

Sky had his hand on the captain’s shoulder. “Stay awake.” 

He nodded slightly and watched as the traveller did chest compressions and mouth to mouth. “That was the last of them!” Wind yelled, relief and worry in his tone.

“Good job sailor.” Sky praised giving Warriors shoulder a squeeze when he almost drifted into sleep.

“Potion!” Hyrule hissed.

They all searched their bags, and Sky checked Warriors’ but they were out of potions. “Shit, okay…can we access Wild’s slate?” Hyrule questioned.

“No…I’ve tried before.” Wind answered, ears drooping slightly.

“…Oh, wait!” Sky pulled out a fairy bottle and tossed it to the traveller.

Hyrule swiftly uncorked it and the fairy flew out. Hyrule whispered something in a language Warriors couldn’t understand and pointed at the cook. The fairy chimed and whizzed over to Wild before circling him, pink particles fluttering down. Everyone waited, tense and worried until Wild shot up and water began spewing out of his mouth, spraying it all over Hyrule’s tunic. The fairy chimed again and flew away, disappearing in the distance. “Wild!” Wind gasped.

Water poured out of the champion’s mouth as he hurled it on the ground. “That was the last of them.” Time came back, panting heavily.

“Ol’ M’n?” Wild slurred, and then passed out, head hitting the ground with an alarming thud.

Time’s face hardened into a more stoic mask. “Let’s go.”

Sky helped Warriors up, concern glimmering in his eyes as the captain stumbled a little. “Got hit in the head by something.” Warriors explained.

“There was a Lizalfos spitting at that water.” Sky gritted his teeth.

“Wild’s enemies?” Warriors asked.

“Most likely. The champion’s got some nasty monsters in his era.” Legend piped up.

The old man picked up the rancher, and Legend ended up carrying the cook. They walked, silently, only distant noises from nature echoing throughout the air. The veteran refused to look at anybody. Time’s eyes stayed ahead of the group, eyes pained. Wind looked nervous, looking at everyone with worry. Eventually they found a spot to set up camp and pulled out two bedrolls for Wild and Twilight. “Does anyone have blankets?” Hyrule asked.

Four pulled out some and the traveller wrapped the cook and the rancher with a couple of blankets. Everyone sat down on the grass. “Why…I know he’s reckless, but he’s smart! We could’ve come up with a plan!” Legend blurted out.

“What matters is he’s alive now.” Sky declared.

“What if he throws himself into a situation like that again…and doesn’t make it back out?” Legend choked out.

Everyone fell quiet. “I’ll talk to him.” Time decided after awhile.

The veteran stood up, rubbed his eyes and took off, sprinting away from the camp at an incredible speed. “Vet!” Hyrule cried out, standing up with one arm extended.

“He probably just needs a moment.” Time murmured.

Hyrule’s mouth started to move but he didn’t say anything, and sat back down. The captain took a shuddery deep breath and stared at the ground as voices slowly became incoherent, a buzzing noise ringing in his ears instead. His head pounded as he was pulled into unconsciousness. 

______________________________

“—down, rancher. He’ll be okay.”

Wild groaned softly, his throat aching and his chest tight. “Wha..?” 

“Guys, he’s awake!” Wind yelled.

“Cub.” Twilight growled.

Wild looked over to see his mentor seething. “Twi.” He responded, uncertainly.

The rancher stormed over. “Why’d you do that? Go and risk your life over mine, when I…I could’ve—should’ve gotten out of there on my own. You scared me, you-you idiot!” 

“Twilight, I would’ve been fine. I have Mipha, remember?” Wild sighed.

“No the fuck you don’t. Remember what you told me at the beginning of this quest?” Twilight hissed.

“Mipha had to leave once the Calamity was defeated, and so did all the other champions. It’s a shame I relied on them so much, I’ve gotten more careless.” 

Wild stiffened, and paled. He checked his slate, and sure enough, Mipha’s Grace was gone. “Oh.”

“Don’t you ever try something like that again.” Twilight stormed off, fists shaking.

Wild muttered a few curses under his breath and fidgeted with the sleeve of the Zora armour. “You’d probably be disappointed in me with how much I’ve needed your grace.” He mumbled.

Wild could almost see a faint teal glow in the room and hear a warm, soft whisper in his ear.

#unique writes #linked universe #lu wild #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu time #lu wind #lu legend #fic request #sorry this is pretty short #I think the ending is pretty good though #hope you enjoy #tw drowning #ig #tw temporary character death

[sionisjaune]

After a secret is revealed brocedes!

Nico burst inside the lab, the panels of his white coat flapping furiously behind him. 

“You,” he said, ripping a spare pair of safety goggles from the rack near the door and shoving them over his head. He stalked over to Lewis’s bench and slammed his palms down on the table. Lewis’s glassware rattled, and the spongy surface of the gel medium he was inspecting quivered underneath the microscope. 

“You got the Lauda Award,” said Nico. His face was flushed, and his hair was in disarray, barely mollified by the band of his safety goggles. “What happened to applying together, Lewis? We had a plan.”

Lewis nudged the petri dish out from under the lens and capped it, setting it to the side. Now that Nico was here, his work was certainly done for the day. “I decided to go for it.” 

“Ugh,” said Nico, an ugly noise in his throat. He carded a hand through his hair, freeing several locks from the confines of his goggles. His hair fell over his face in a floppy sheet, exactly like it had when he and Lewis were fifteen. Lewis watched him shake silently with rage and resentment, shivering like a malfunctioning machine. Eventually he produced a packet of folded papers from the pocket of his coat. He shook the paper in front of Lewis's face. “HAM4 transcription factor misfolding is related to muscle function in adults with cerebral palsy.” Nico’s whole face was screwed up, like he was tasting something sour. “Since when do you even work on this?”

Lewis's heart skipped a beat and began to race, blood pounding anxiously in his ears. He busied his hands flipping the microscope off. Nico was accusing him of keeping his research secret as if Nico didn’t close his laptop whenever Lewis walked behind his desk on the way to make tea—as if Nico didn’t shut the door to Toto’s office when he was in there, so that Lewis couldn’t hear them down the hall. As if their days of sharing crib sheets and editing each other’s papers weren't already a decade in the past.

“Where did you get that?” said Lewis, standing from the stool. He shoved the cover over the microscope and lifted the petri dish to return it to the incubator.  

“You really should lock your desk,” said Nico, eyes dark.  

Lewis blinked, and paused where he was, halfway across the lab. He spun around, petri dish in hand. “Let me get this straight,” said Lewis. “You’re accusing me of breaching your trust when you stole my research from my desk?”

“We had a plan,” Nico whined. It really was whining. Lewis used to think it was sexy, how Nico’s voice climbed to a woman’s breathless octave when he wanted something badly. “Fuck, Lewis,” he said. “One more year, and then we were going to do it together.” Lewis watched him make a big show of damning the lab safety protocols and removing his goggles to rub at his angry eyes. “It’s fucking over, now.” 

“We shouldn’t be collaborating anyway,” said Lewis, shaking. He turned back around to finish putting the tissue culture away. It was better if he didn't have to stare at Nico’s red face. “Our fields are diverging. We’re only going to slow each other down.” 

“I’m not talking about collaborating,” said Nico, coldly. “We’re done. Find a new apartment, and find a new fucking boyfriend. You seem to like that geeky post-grad just fine—maybe he’ll fuck you and let you leech off of his grant too.” 

Nico turned around and walked out in the same way he had entered, in a giant, theatrical flurry, flinging his goggles and Lewis’s research at the ground. The door slammed shut after him, and Lewis was left kneeling in front of the incubator, warmth radiating through the little glass window in the front, his dish of muscle cell culture tucked gently inside.

His research fluttered to the floor, a snowstorm of text and tables, and settled on the vermiculite. Some dreams died. Lewis decided he could live with that.

#em is doing breakup prompts which reminded me that i still had a few... #breakup prompts #stemcedes