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#[eyes bloodshot as i stare at the ceiling]
psychiatricwarfare · 11 months
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i wish i could know everything. like, sure, it might break my brain but im just so curious about everything and how everything works down to mircoscopic and macroscopic levels. i want to know the history of every culture, every historical figure, every poet, everyone whos ever made a footprint in the sand. i want to understand the combination of chemicals and electric pulses throughout a brain that make up what a consciousness is and what it means to be a self aware animal. i want to dive into a black hole and come back unscathed. i want to die and come back. i want to feel everything and learn everything there is to possibly know. i want to understand the secrets of the universe and i will never have enough time. i will never be able to know absolutely everything and it kills me. i just want to understand
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hotroadkill · 3 months
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why don’t banks arcade have more listeners 😭😭
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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 days
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devotee
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words: 1.8k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, MURDER!, DARK!RAFE but also equally soft!rafe, rafe is clearly mentally fucked uppppp omds, lets just say reader is very forgiving, descriptions of blood and gore, vomiting, pregnancy, semi public sex
you pant heavily as you look around the room, knowing the sight will haunt you for the rest of your life. your clothes are splattered with blood, but not your own.
you should have known this would happen. you blame yourself as you stare at the growing pool of blood around your boyfriends body. there's no point trying to save him, he's long gone, his eyes open and eerily staring at the ceiling, but theres nothing behind them.
you feel sick, and you make no move towards the bathroom. there's no point when the room is already a mess as you lean forward and vomit all over the carpet.
“aww, baby.” rafe coos, dropping the knife to the ground as he gathers your hair into a ponytail, holding it away from your face as you empty your stomach. 
“it's okay.” his words and the hand that is stroking up and down your back is soft, completely opposite of the heinous violent act he just committed.
you're unharmed, of course. rafe would never hurt you. his obsession runs far too deep.
“he's gone now.” rafe says as you stand up, looking at him with bloodshot eyes, snot dripping from your nose that you don't bother to wipe away. 
“rafe-” you mutter. the only word that you can get out is his name.
“oh, baby.” he pulls you into his chest. you don't fight back, releasing a sob, part out of guilt for finding his hold comforting, but mostly for your boyfriend dead on the floor.
you should have known rafe would come after him. even though you broke up with rafe a month ago, he never processed that you actually weren't together anymore. it's like his brain couldn't accept it.
so when you moved on, found a new guy who you liked decent enough, it only took rafe a week before barging in and ending him, thinking he was saving you.
“i got you.” rafe says, feeling you shake against him.
you can't get yourself to pull away, even as the metallic coppery smell hits your nostrils.
“let's get you home and then ill clean you up, okay?” rafe says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “ive missed you so much baby. the house feels so empty without you.”
“rafe-” you whine out.
“shh, don't try to talk.” he lifts you up so effortlessly it takes you a moment to realize that you're now off your feet, cradled in his big strong arms. “just let me take care of you.”
you know you should run, should scream, should call 911 and tell them everything. you should feel sadder for your boyfriend. you liked him. not like you love rafe, though, so you keep your mouth shut as he carries you out of the house and into his car, gently setting you in the passenger seat. he reaches across and grabs the buckle, doing it up for you before pressing a kiss onto your forehead.
the ride home is silent, your hand held in rafes as he breaks the speed limit to get you back to tanneyhill.
“you're home now.” rafe says as he pulls into the driveway.
you wait for rafe to round the car and let you out, of course once again scooping you into his arms. you never have to open a door when around rafe, or even lift a finger if you don't want to. 
he would be the perfect guy, sweet and utterly in love with you, if that love didn't distort reality.
“where was i?” you ask. “this last month?”
“you were having some time to yourself before that asshole tried to take you away from me.” rafes face turns sour at the mention of him. “but you're back now, so we don't need to worry about it.”
of course no mention of a breakup as rafe carries you right into the master bathroom. he sets you down on the counter before turning on the bath, adding a hefty amount of your favorite bath soak.
“what if the police come after you?” you question.
“they won't.” rafe says, walking over and cupping your cheek. “are you worried about me?”
you nod. you absolutely are. you don't know what you would do without rafe. even during your “break up”, he still paid for the rent of your apartment, sent you lunch and dinner every day, and texted you the sweetest things that always made your heartbeat a little faster.
“we’ll be fine baby, i promise.” rafes hands begin to work at taking your clothes off. you don't stop him, there's no point, he's seen it all before.
rafe undresses himself next before turning the water off once the tub is mostly filled, leaving enough space for both of you to soak together.
“ready?” he questions, thumb stroking against your cheek.
another nod and rafe is placing you in the bathtub before climbing in himself. 
you dunk yourself under the warm water, needing to get every drop of blood off of you. when you come back up, the water is tinted slightly red that almost makes you throw up again.
“i have a vacation planned for us.” rafe says. “to the seychelles, but if you want to go somewhere else-”
“that sounds nice.” you interrupt him. it really does. you need to get away from the outer banks for a while, maybe longer. 
“what if we moved?” you question. there's no point in pretending that you'll ever be without rafe. a breakup is clearly impossible, and with that month away, you realize that's not what you actually want.
“to where?” rafe asks, quirking his head to the side curiously. he's always wanting to know more about how your thoughts work, needing to learn everything he can about you.
“anywhere but here. maybe europe. london. madrid.” you shrug. “i just want a change of… scenery.”
a different town, a different country, maybe a different rafe. one where you don't know anyone for him to get jealous of and “rescue” you from.
“we'll figure it out after our vacation.” rafe offers, and you nod, falling into silence as he moves closer, glad the big tub allows for it as you cuddle together, eyes peacefully closing as you rest your head against his chest.
--
the resort is full of couples, mostly newlyweds happy and smiling and kissing, so it was natural when you sat down on rafes thigh to kiss him.
you hadn't realized how much you missed his lips, his hold, his touch, his cock.
rafe clenches his thigh muscle, hands coming to your hips and pushing you down onto his thigh, your bikini bottoms barely acting as a barrier as you let out a moan.
“rafe.” you moan out, keeping your voice quiet.
you're in a secluded cabana, but couples have occasionally walked past, able to see through the sheer white curtains surrounding the plush bedding.
“right here. right now.” rafe says. 
he didn't fuck you that night you came back to him, knowing you needed the rest. he didn't last night either, your first night on the island. the flight was long and you were excited to be somewhere new, so by the time you got back to your room, your were exhausted.
“but the people-”
“if anyone looks at us, ill just kill them.” rafe says.
you know it should worry you, that your first thought is then you'll have to cut your vacation short, but as rafe bounces his thigh, all care goes out the window.
“everyone here is drunk anyways.” you still keep your voice low as rafe lays back, switching so you're underneath him. “they probably won't notice.”
“mhm.” rafe hums, pushing his hips between your legs, parting your thighs as his crotch aligns with yours, rubbing his already hard cock against your covered pussy.
“tell me.” rafe says, burying his head into your neck.
you instantly know what he means. “you're my first. you're my only.”
it's the truth. you could never imagine sleeping with another guy. rafe is all you know, and all you'll ever know.
rafe reaches down, pulling his cock out but leaving his swim shorts as best in place as he can before tugging your bikini bottoms to the side.
rafe pushes into you in one smooth motion, making you moan out as your head tips back.
rafe stills despite the urge to obliterate you, allowing you time to adjust to his cock back inside of you.
“missed this.” you whine. “i-i love you so much rafe.”
“i love you so much more baby. id do anything for you.” including kill. the words go unsaid. they don't need to be spoken aloud.
rafe begins to swing his hips, pushing into you in slow and relaxed strokes, allowing you to build up slowly.
“fuck.” you whine out. “you feel so good.”
“me?” rafe chuckles dryly. “your pussy is so warm and wet baby, it's perfect. i would stay inside you forever if i could.”
you smile up at rafe, allowing yourself to forget the past and enjoy the way he's slowly moving faster, thrusting deeper and harder into you.
rafe cups his hand over your chest, squeezing your breast before moving the bikini top to the side to set your nipple free.
he's quick to arch his back and lock his mouth around your nipple until it hardens, his tongue flicking over the bud without a care for the path just outside your cabana.
“perfect body, baby. so perfect.” rafe switches sides, moaning around your chest. “everything about you is perfect.”
“i love you.” you want to say it over and over again. you pull rafes face to meet yours, kissing him deeply. “i love you.” you repeat.
“i love you.” rafe grunts out, keeping his hips thrusting forward. “ill never leave you. you're mine. im yours.”
--
you breath in the madrid air, letting the sun warm your face as you wait for rafe to return home to your new apartment.
when you casually mentioned wanting coffee, he was out the door as quickly as he could.
“baby!” rafe calls, heading through the rooms until he reaches the balcony. the smile on his face is infectious as he hands you a cup, of course the largest size, and if you wanted more, he'd be out the door again.
“don't think i can drink all this.” you giggle as you take the cup from him.
“ill just dump the rest.” rafe shrugs. he's so much calmer now that he's out of the outer banks. you've put everything behind you, deciding to start a new the moment your plane landed.
“it's not recommended.” you say. rafes eyebrows scrunch together, trying to understand what you mean.
“im only supposed to have a cup a day, but i still need to find a good doctor in madrid. one that specializes in what im going through.”
“what…” rafe mumbles, mind working overtime. you set your cup down as he thinks, already expecting his reaction when he works it out.
“you're pregnant!” rafe pulls you into his arms, the brightest smile you've ever seen on his face as he hugs and kisses you.
“you're going to be a dad.” you whisper into his ear, feeling tears hit your shoulder.
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crxss01 · 10 months
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— Never Felt So Low
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pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader
summary ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊ you see miles a month after his dad's funeral.
warnings ✧˖ ° angst, comfort, sad miles, grief, mentions death (obvi), sad tía morales.
m. list, main m. list.
translations ✧࿓☾ mija: dear, bonito: handsome/pretty boy. princesa: princess, gracias, muñeca: thanks, doll.
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miles had been distant ever since his dad died, you completely understood him (in a way) and the fact that he wanted to be there for his mother. but you also wanted to be there for him, to be able to give him the comfort that he needed.
since he had made no attempts to contact you, you decided that you were just going to his house with no invitation. you would not only fail yourself if you didn't go but you would also fail him because right now he needs all of the support that he can get.
knocking on the door, you waited until it was answered by rio morales, who you liked to refer to as tía morales. the woman looked a mess, which was understandable, her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark bags under them, her nose was red, her hands were shaking and her bottom lip was quivering.
"ohh... tía morales." you walked in, pulling the older woman into a hug.
she held you close and tightly, not tight enough to the point that it was uncomfortable but to the point where you felt the pressure, tía morales did not start to cry instead choosing to just enjoy the comfort you were offering.
you let her hug you for however long she wanted. a couple of seconds or minutes later, you lost track of time, she started to pull away slowly.
"i missed you, mija." she told you, her hands cupping your cheeks and her thumb gently caressing one of them.
"i missed you too, tía." and it was true, the woman was pretty much a mother figure to you.
"go check on our boy, i'm starting to get so worried about him." she shook her head, holding back tears. "he's been suppressing his emotions."
you nodded. "alright, i'll try to help him."
tía morales pointed at his bedroom and you walked to the door, stopping right in front of it and lifting your arm to knock.
“ma, i already told you that i don’t wanna eat anything right now.”
“it’s me, bonito.” you called out softly. “can i come in?”
there was a minute of silence and you were scared that he was about to tell you to leave when he finally spoke. “yes, come in.”
so you did. the moment you saw him sitting down on his bed, head thrown back and staring at the ceiling you felt relieved to see that he was at least looking healthy so far.
“miles…”
your previous thought changed when he turned his head to look at you and your heart broke this time. he looked pale and so tired, you wanted nothing more than to bring back the rich color of his skin and to make the happy look return to his tired eyes.
“hey..” he said with no emotion whatsoever, even his voice had a rough edge to it that you didn’t notice while you were outside his door.
“hey, bonito.” you walked closer to him and sat beside him on the bed, taking his hand in yours.
“i’m sorry, it’s been a while.” he apologized. “i made you feel alone.”
“don’t apologize, i understand.” you shook your head. “but now i want to be here for you and i think it was the other way around, i wasn’t there for you and made you feel like you only had your uncle and mom.”
“i knew i had you too, princesa. i just didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“miles, i don’t care about your appearance as long as you look healthy, you know that. you are going through a tough time right now and i want to be here for you.”
miles laid his forehead on yours. “gracias, muñeca.”
“can i stay here with you?” you asked, wanting to spend the night with him in your arms but still not wanting to intrude. it was good enough that he didn’t argue with you about you being in his home, yet you even were willing to spend the whole week with him if it would bring back the tiniest spark back to his eyes.
“yes, you can.” he nodded, raising one hand and softly stroking your cheek with his thumb just like his mother did.
after what seem like hours in the same position, his face had lost part of the tension on it, a calm expression replacing it and it made you feel a little better that you had that effect on him.
“here, mi niño.” tía morales had walked in and was passing two plates of food to you and miles.
“ma, i already—”
“thank you, tía.” you took both plates from her. “we’ll both eat it.”
the woman nodded, a smile on her face before she left the room, closing the door and leaving a 4inch gap.
you turned to miles and put one plate down on his bed and focused on one. lifting a spoonful you blew on the rice and chicken on it before directing the spoon to miles’s lips.
“say ahh.” you told him.
miles looked at you for a second before rolling his eyes and opening his mouth. “ahh.”
you put the spoon inside his mouth, and he gladly chewed the food when you took the spoon out.
grabbing food from the plate on the bed you also ate and closed your eyes at the taste of tía morales’ delicious cooking.
after miles swallowed his mouthful, you took another spoonful from the plate on your hand and lifted the spoon to his lips.
miles once again looked at you for a second but instead of rolling his eyes, he smiled showing the dimples that you loved so much.
his smile was contagious and you couldn’t help but smile as well while you led the spoon inside his mouth.
after you both finished eating you took the plates out to the kitchen and washed them before going back to miles’ room and changing into one of his shirts and shorts then laying next to him on his bed.
“i missed you so much, beautiful girl.” miles said, hugging you close. his head on your chest.
“and i missed you too.” you said truthfully.
miles nodded into your chest and you both stayed quiet for a few minutes. when you felt little droplets of tears falling onto the shirt you were wearing, you didn’t say anything. already knowing how sensitive miles was and how he preferred to cry in silence unless he spoke first.
your hand started going up and down his back, letting him know you were there and he got the message because he hugged you more tightly and sobs were coming out of his throat.
“i just miss him.” he finally spoke, his voice breaking.
this was your queue that you could speak now. “i know, bonito, i know.” you told him. “let it all out.”
“it hurts so much.” more tears started coming out of his eyes.
you needed to use all the strength in you in order to not start crying right then and there along with him instead focusing on being as comforting to him as you could, whispering sweet nothings to him and pulling him close to you.
the night went on like this and you made sure that miles was asleep before you allowed yourself to fall under exhaustion control and also fall asleep.
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taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho @laylasbunbunny @onginlove @all444miles @fiannee @sp1dercunt @milesandcorysupermacy @loonalockley @miguelslefteyebrow @dxille (if you asked to be added to the taglist and you’re not on here is because your @ didn’t appear!)
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ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!
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ageofevermore · 11 months
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OH, LORD SAVE ME
SUMMARY — after a night out with the girls, wanda gets possessive after learning maria couldn’t keep her hands to herself. oh, lord save me my drug is my baby i’ll get using for the rest of my life.
WARNINGS — nsfw minors dni, alcohol consumption, marijuana and cocaine usage, smoking a blunt, biting, face slapping, ass slapping, strap-on usage, vibrator usage, blowjob, brief nipple play, scratching, fingering, doggy/missionary, degradation, mommy kink, orgasm control, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, dom/sub dynamics, brat shenanigans
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A floral aroma hits your nose the second you enter the bedroom. The rest of the house holds the scent of weed, and the scattered lighters in the living room tell you enough. The lights are low, and a nature documentary is paused on the television screen across from the bed, but no trace of your girlfriend is visible from the doorway. Remnants of white powder cling to the oak furniture you recently bought, and her credit card lies beside the evidence of a chased high. Wanda D. Maximoff is stamped into the card, already an obvious give away as to who the perpetrator is. The room spins as you walk deeper into it, and clumsily your body collides with the bedpost.
The fan is running in the bathroom, and the faintest tinge of yellow peeks out from beneath the door, shining into the room like slivers of sunlight hitting a prism. The shower isn’t running, and neither is the sink, either of the two an indicator that she’s ready to call it a night. It’s approaching two am now, and the sunlight that filled the bedroom before has turned to inky midnight. The spontaneous night out with some girlfriends from work has left you giggly, artificial cherry on your lips as your tongue swipes across them. You don’t bother knocking as you enter the bathroom, though the seconds you spend fumbling with the doorknob are enough warning that you’re coming in, not that she’d mind either way.
The sight of her, sprawled out on the floor, brown hair scattered about and bloodshot eyes staring at the ceiling gives you a pause for a second before you burst into giggles that shake the gold chains holding your dress up. The skimpy black number was one of Wanda’s personal favorites, but your girlfriend hadn’t been home when you left to comment on it. If she had been, your neck wouldn’t be as clear as it is now, only soft, healing hickeys remain from nights prior, not too bad for your usually bruised up appearance. Wanda startles at your added sound, but her eyes never peel away from their concentrated dedication to the fan on the ceiling. There’s an abandoned bowl laying next to her, and your customized red lighter is left on the countertop next to a bottle of water. Having to hear her whine about how dry her mouth is when she’s high is a nuisance, so you’ve begun to leave bottles of water in her favorite smoking spots, and clearly, it did you some good.
“Baby!” Your voice drags, slightly slurred together and raised in pitch as you tumble to the floor to lay beside her. Hating when your hair ends up in your face, you’d been proactive for a change, and had decided to braid it for your night out, and as you fall to the ground, it whacks Wanda in the face, but you don’t notice, too absorbed in trying to see what she’s so interested in. “I missed you!” When the fan no longer interests you, because why would it, you roll on top of her effectively elbowing her in the chest, and it’s enough of a commotion to finally break her concentration. The second her eyes are on you, a darkness blooms in the typically evergreen centers. Her huff of surprise for the air being knocked out of her lungs is only a half second long, before she's scanning your smudged makeup and biting down on her bottom lip that's in desperate need of some chapstick. “You smoked without me!”
“You weren’t home.” The accented edge to her words sends warmth spiraling down your bones. The alcohol having already flushed your cheeks and tickled your belly only amplified the desire that burned in your bones, igniting a flame so hot you were sure tomorrow wouldn’t see the light of day. “You look hot.” Her hands leave where they had been lying flat on the tile floor, grabbing your ass in rough handfuls that make you giggle.
“Mmm, wore your favorite dress. Maria got a little handsy. I think it’s a fan favorite.” You taunted her, dancing your lips across hers before pulling away to look at her face fully. Cocaine is still clinging to her porcelain skin, dusted between her nose in what looks like an attempt to wipe it away. Whatever makeup she’d been wearing before was gone, only a faint stain of black below her eyes that indicated she’d been rubbing her eyes before she took her mascara off. You shouldn't be so bothered by the state of her, but the combination of her wandering hands and hungry eyes was pulling you apart piece by piece.
Wanda growled at the mention of your mutual friend who was known for her wandering hands and sultry commentary, though it didn’t bring Wanda any amusement to hear about her interest in the dress. Not when she wasn’t around to remind Maria that you were hers. Your attention drops to Wanda's exposed neck, and your teeth find a home sinking into the soft flesh. Hints of her perfume twist with the scent of cocaine and marijuana, and it's entirely intoxicating. “Maria needs to learn to keep her hands to herself.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” Mischief swims in your eyes, and you sink your teeth into a particularly sensitive spot on Wanda’s neck, just beneath her ear. Her breath hitched, her hands grabbing at the fabric of your dress around your hips. Her entire body shudders, and for a moment, she freezes entirely to just enjoy the sensation that travels through her previously numb limbs.
Your tongue soothed the bite, dancing circles around the marks you’d left. Wanda’s eyes fluttered shut, bunching your dress up around your hips in favor of twisting the ridge of your lace panties between her delicate fingers. “Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”
“Why don’t you remind me?” You nipped her neck a final time before pulling away to watch her process your words, which were more like a silent invitation for her to have her way with your body.
Wanda shoved you off of her messily, a growl crawling from the depth of her throat as she watched you smirk like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “Get in the bedroom.”
“What? Don’t want to fuck me on the bathroom floor? Again.” Your breath tickled her wet skin, a cold shill crawling up her spine that she very narrowly avoided reacting to. “I’m sure Maria would.”
“Go.” Her tone left no room for arguments this time, and you scrambled to comply, although clumsily with your still strapped heels and spinning vision. Giggles spilled from between your lips when you rammed into the doorframe, completely absorbed in completing Wanda’s direction and not noticing how she spent a few extra minutes fumbling for something in the bathroom.
Your body sank into the soft bed, black sheets blending into the tiny dress you squeezed yourself into. The skin tight material still bunched around your hips in messy folds, exposing the front of your lacy black thong that left little to the imagination. Suddenly aware of how desperate you were without Wanda’s neck as a distraction, one hand slid between your legs while the other fumbled to grab your breasts through the thin material. Your panties were soaked through, sticking to your folds uncomfortably. Your thighs spread without any invitation, and you pulled them aside desperate for attention where you most needed it.
Eyes fluttering shut at the first stroke against your engorged clit, you didn’t hear Wanda shutting the cabinets and turning off the bathroom lights, only feeling her presence when a hand grabbed around your neck and startled you enough that your antsy fingers stilled between your legs.
“Did I tell you to touch yourself?” She growled, leaning over you with a dominating presence. Your head shook side to side quickly, your pussy abandoned. You ached for something more, but words failed you as you stared back at her. Something landed beside your head, but before you could look to see what it was Wanda was demanding more from you. “Use your words, you had no problem doing that before.”
“N-No.” You spluttered, fighting to keep your eyes open the longer she held your neck. Her fingers tightened, and it was then you realized she was still wearing her rings, the metal digging into your skin harshly.
“No, who?” The words pulled the breath out of your lungs, and you’re sure you looked like a fish out of water scrambling to find the right words to answer her. “Huh? Don’t make me wait. No, who.”
“N-No, Mommy.” You managed, gasping for breath when her hand finally left your neck, and it was only then you realized she had dug out your red strap, and her hand was holding the base tightly.
“Stupid slut.” She scoffed, moving backward so she was standing farther from the end of the bed. “Since you had so much to say before, I figured we’d put that mouth to use. Get on your knees.”
You dropped to your knees so fast you were sure they’d be bruised by the morning, but the only thing you could think about was how badly you wanted to feel her in your mouth. Bracing your hands on her thighs, you waited for her to instruct you to begin, knowing you were already playing a dangerous game. A smirk crept onto her lips at your clear impatience, and she was no stranger to making you wait. Spitting on her hand, she brought it down to the silicone cock, spreading it around teasingly. You whined, silently begging her to stop her torture and let you have a taste.
“What's wrong? See something you like?” Your girlfriend taunted, throwing her head back as she stroked the silicone cock, your favorite of the collection you’ve acquired since getting together a few years ago.
“Please.” You begged with hooded eyes, wanting to be the one that was turning her on and giving her pleasure.
“Please what?” Wanda cooed, voice dripping with lust as she watched you writhe in front of her, desperate for anything she wanted to give you. “Do you want to suck my cock? Feel it against your tongue? Let me fuck your mouth? Is that it?”
You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes the longer she made you wait. Your thighs pinched together, looking to relieve the aching in where you needed her most. She didn’t say anything about your actions, and for that you were grateful, but it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy you and she knew that. “Please. Please let me suck your cock, Mommy.”
“Get on with it then.” You wasted no time, one hand holding onto the base of the strap while the other stayed in place on her thigh. Her salvia has slickened the silicone, making it easier for you to take more of it quickly. She was heavy against your tongue, and for a second, you just enjoyed the feeling, before you began working the length with your hand and your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and letting the bulbous head ram into the back of your throat, desperate to please.
Wanda’s hand fell onto your head, a guttural moan leaving her lips watching you take her length. The strap wasn’t small by any means, one of your bigger ones, and yet you devoured her. Your eyes watered when she began to thrust at first shallowly, but losing her reserve the longer she watched you endure it. You gagged when she forced your nose to her pelvis, the cock practically down your throat, but she didn’t pull away, forcing you to feel her and remember who owned your throat. She pulled away with a pop, ready to absolutely obliterate your pussy.
“Strip. Panties and heels stay on.” You scrambled to comply, rising to your feet with shaky movements, not only from the anticipation of finally getting what you want, but the alcohol that was still coursing through your system. “Hands and knees. Ass up.”
Your dress ended up in a puddle on the floor to be dealt with later, and the bed sank with your weight as you got into position, impatiently pushing your hips backward to meet the scarlet strap. A slap left your ass cheek tingling, your body jolting forward in shock.
“Patience.” Wanda demanded thickly, sokovian accent twisting her words into something dangerous. Your entire body shuddered in anticipation, keeping your eyes forward knowing how much she likes it. You jumped when her fingers found your panties, tracing the lace design before slipping lower. Wanda groaned at how wet you are, thighs glistening with your arousal and panties clinging to your folds. She pulls them to the side, fingers toying with your lips and narrowly avoiding your clit each time she makes a pass around your pussy. “What got you this wet, moya lyubov'? Hmmm?”
With shaky breath, your head dropped onto the comforter, fists balling up the cotton material, “Y-You, Mommy. You did. You got me this wet.”
Her fingers pressed against your weeping entrance but never farther, pushing you farther and farther toward the edge of desperation, and from experience, you knew it was a steep fall. She wanted you at you breaking point, she wanted you to remember who owned you the next time you decided to fuck around. “Not Maria? But I thought you liked her touching what's mine?”
Brattiness tempted you to fuck with her, but your desperation to be touched was winning the fight, and you bit back your sarcastic answer in favor of finally feeling her and being given some relief. “N-no. I like when you touch me. I’m yours.” You gasped when she slipped two fingers inside of you, giving you a second to adjust before she began to scissor your sopping pussy. Every ridge of your pussy fit her fingers like a glove, and Wanda yearned to hear your whimpers as you sought out pleasure at her control.
“You gonna let Maria get handsy with you again when I’m not around?” Her fingers were set at a brutal pace, but still she avoided your aching clit that was begging for attention. Your hips stuttered, your eyes pinched shut so impossibly tight you thought you were seeing starts. When her fingers caressed the sweet spot inside of you, all thoughts vanished from your mind as you whined for more and less at the same time. “Are you. Going to. Let her. Get handsy. With you. Again?” Wanda repeated, annunciating each word with a harsh stroke against your g-stop.
“N-no! No I’m n-not! Please. Please!” You needed more. You needed her cock in your pussy, pounding you into the bed, or her fingers on your clit, you needed something more than just her brutal pace going in and out of your cunt knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to cum from just that.
“Please what, moya lyubov'?” She taunted, stilling her fingers all together but not pulling them out, just leaving you full enough to want more.
“Fuck me already!” You sobbed, turning your head to meet her eye, watching how she enjoyed breaking you down for her to play with.
“Are my fingers not enough for this slutty pussy? You need more? Desperate whore wants to get fucked?” She teased, pulling her fingers away from you completely and watching strings of wetness bead between her knuckles as she plays with your slick. She moans when she tastes you, fingers running your wetness across her tongue. “Get on your back.”
You watch as she walks away, pulling out a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter she stole from Natasha the last time the redhead was over. The black design stood out in the otherwise near darkness, the gold snake that wrapped around your favorite design in the stolen collection you both kept adding too. Wanda lit up, grimacing at the first hit that burnt the back of her throat. She blew the smoke out in a near perfect o shape, taking another drag before she came back to you. She passed off the blunt, climbing over top of you when you accepted it and took a drag. The grungy taste of smoke filled your mouth, adding to the heaviness in your limbs almost instantly.
“You ready?” She asked, positioning the bulbous head of the dildo with your entrance. You nodded, taking another drag before offering it to her. Her lips wrapped around it angelically, a stark contrast to how filthy the both of you were being. Wanda wasted no time, burying the dick in your pussy in one thrust, and setting a brutal pace as she fucked you.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the blunt burning a hole in the comforter as ash fell off. You gasped at her brutal pace, reaching to set the blunt in the ashtray on your bedside table, immediately bringing your newly free hands to her back, digging your nails into her bare skin. Her tits bounced with each thrust, hanging over you with an invitation to pinch her perfectly pink nipples. Wanda's hands squeezed at your hips, gliding down your body until they reached your thighs. Pulling your legs further apart, the head of her cock rammed into your cervix, shooting white ropes of pleasure through every nerve in your body. Your back arched off the back, nipples pointed to the sky as you searched for more. The pebbled buds taunted your girlfriend, who leaned down hungrily and took one between her teeth, pulling at the sensitive flesh that was a one way shot to your clit.
“Please Wands, touch my clit.” You begged, tears welling in your eyes as pleasure built. Wanda's pace was brutal, and you were impossibly full, but she had still yet to touch your clit and every nerve in your body was burning with need.
“Hand me the vibrator.” She grit out through clenched teeth, leaving your nipples in favor of pointing to the scarlet vibrator she’d thrown on the bed before. Your hand fumbled to grab it, limbs shaking not only from the power of her thrusts but from desire. “God, I love this pussy.”
Wanda switched the vibrator to its second highest setting, settling it right on your sensitive nub. A sharp whine left your lips, back arching and hands searching for her skin. Your nails dragged marks down her back, your orgasm approaching quickly as she worked your over sensitive body.
“O-Oh, o-oh! Right there, r-right there!” You gasped, digging your nails into her hips, hips writhing to meet her thrusts and fall over the edge that was just out of reach. A hand slapped your cheek before moving onto pinch your nipples, your body alight with so many sensations you didn’t know how to react. “I-Im gonna cum! Mommy! O-oh I'm so close! I'm so close!”
Wanda slapped you again, shaking her head with pinched shut eyes, “Hold it.”
“I can’t!” You moaned, head thrown back and neck perfectly exposed for her to grab. Her fingers wrapped around your soft skin, squeezing in all the places that made you melt and worked you up simultaneously. Your head felt so heavy, your limbs each weighing a couple hundred pounds as they dropped onto the sheets and grabbed handfuls. “Wanda! Wanda I’m gonna cum! Im gonna cum!”
Minutes passed without a response from your partner, and the coil in your belly was desperately close to snapping with or without her permission, but before you could warn her, she was speaking, “Cum for me. Cum for me, slut.”
You came with a screech, but Wanda’s thrusts didn’t stop, they only seemed to amplify as she worked you through your climax and fought for her own, switching the vibrator to the highest setting despite the tears already falling from your eyes. “It’s too much. W-Wands it too much!”
Your body was alight will the combination of marijuana and alcohol, and your second orgasm was being pried from your body with a force that could break bones. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip so hard you could taste the metallic tell of blood, but the pleasure was so intense you didn’t care. “C-cum with me! Cum with me, dorogoy. Fuck. F-fuck.” The both of you exploded with a scream, Wanda dropping the vibrator somewhere on the bed and falling on top of you, heaving to catch her breath. The clock on your wall said it was after five am, and the drugs mixed with general exhaustion was pulling on her muscles.
“I love you.” She gasped, pressing soft kisses into your skin and wiggling until her feet weren’t dangling off the edge of the bed anymore. Her thighs were sticky from her orgasm, but neither of you cared to clean yourselves up. You kick your heels off, and Wanda undid the strap, throwing both objects somewhere in the room to clean and put away later.
Shimming out of your soaked panties, you grimace as the cold wetness brushed against your sensitive clit. “I love you too.”
A beat of silence fills the space, and you think she’s fallen sleep before she speaks again, “Did Maria really grab your ass?”
A giggle rustles your chests, and you shake your head while brushing your fingers through her tangled and sweaty hair. “She was too preoccupied with Nat to spare me a second glance.”
“You could’ve just asked to be fucked.” Wanda laughed.
“This was more fun.”
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reidsdimples · 16 days
Text
Like Kids Again 🫶🏻
Spencer Reid x reader
Friends to lovers// angst// loss
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You swing your door open, already aware that Spence is on the other side. It's late but you told him he was welcome anytime and tonight he needed you more than ever. He lost one of his co-workers in a shooting but couldn't tell you anymore than that.
He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, the shadows beneath them darker than usual, his shirt was untucked, and his tie had been discarded God knows where. He leaned on the door frame with his head hanging low in defeat.
"Oh Spence," you sigh and open your arms.
He stumbles into your small frame and drapes his head over your shoulder. His strong arms squeeze you tight and you just hold him. Spencer had been your best friend for many years and you had never seen him so broken. Not since Tobias Hankel, but this time his sorrow weighed heavily on him more than his anxiety. The grief radiating off of him, nearly choked you.
"I know you can't talk about the details," you hold his face between your hands so that he looks at you. "But talk to me as much as you can. Okay? Don't shut down on me Spence."
His bottom lip quivers and tears spill from his eyes but he nods his understanding. You finally push the front door closed and he follows you to the couch.
He lays his head in your lap and tucks pulls his legs up to his chest. You don't even mind the shoes on the couch, his red converse were so uniquely him, that it made you smile. You gently push your hands through his hair to soothe him. You just let him break down, let him sob quietly until he can't anymore.
"I'm right here," you whisper softly.
"I felt him die. I felt his..." he trails off. He turns over and looks straight up towards the ceiling. "I felt his breathing stop, his life leave his body. I couldn't," his voice cracks. "I couldn't stop it."
"It's not your fault," you console him. You push the strands of hair from his cheeks where they were stuck there from tears.
"You sound like Hotch," he offers a weak smile.
"No I mean it," you insist. "You didn't pull the trigger."
He shakes his head and squints his eyes, trying to take in your words. He looks up at you through thick eyelashes.
It’s then that you notice his hands. Not the way you usually do, in that they’re incredibly attractive. But you notice that there is dried blood under his nails. You take his hand in yours and examine it closer. His eyes close when he notices what caught your attention and a few tears fall.
“Come here,” you instruct softly.
You take his hand and lead him to your bathroom.
“I showered, I just couldn’t get it all,” he murmurs. He’s staring at the floor. In the room but a million miles away.
Your best friend, your Spence. Oh your love. He will never be the same again. Your heart aches and you push down the chocking need to cry that grows in your throat.
“It’s okay,” you whisper.
You guide his hands under the warm water and soap up the nail brush. You hear him sniffle as you scrub his friend’s blood from his nails. It’s not something you ever thought you would be doing but you’d do anything to make him okay. You can’t imagine the turmoil he’s feeling.
He leans into you while you work on his other hand, his tall frame somehow heavier than usual. His movements are slower, more defeated.
“Thank you,” her murmurs as you feel dry his hands.
“Here, sit,” you instruct him to set on the edge of your bed.
You gently squeeze lotion into your hands before massaging one of his between yours. You gently rub the pressure points and pay special attention to his fingers before repaying on the other hand.
“There, good as new,” you smile gently.
Spence examines his hands and the weight of the world seems to lessen just a tad.
“Can you…” he begins nervously. He looks up at you and you know what he needs. You gesture for him to kick off his converse and crawl into bed.
“Like when we were kids,” you nod.
When the two of you were kids, he would sneak next door and crawl into your bed when his parents were fighting. You would hold him forever. Just like he did for you when you needed it.
“Like when we were kids,” he grins.
You crawl into bed behind him and latch onto him. It was much easier when he was smaller than you, but puberty changed that.
You hand him your small stuffed lion that you’ve had since you were ten. The one he gave it to you for your birthday. He looks at it and pulls in to his chest.
As adults the two of you don’t have these moments as often. You’re reminded of how much you missed his closeness, his scent, his soft breathing, and his affection.
You gently rub his arm, tracing small circles and patterns.
“Guess?” You ask him. He nods. It’s a game you two played as kids.
You trace ‘hi’ on his arm and he huffs a small sweet laugh.
“Hi,” he answers.
Next you trace ‘ILY’.
“I love you too,” he whispers.
Familiar warmth fills you, you know you’ll never love anyone the way you love him. He’s always been your love. Your Spence.
You’re hit with a sudden pang of dread. What if it was Spence that had been shot and killed? You still. Dread giving way to guilt.
Guilt that you’ve harbored a deeper love for him for so long and never said anything. Fear that one day it could be too late.
He squirms and turns in your grip.
“What is it?” He’s looking up at you in the dark and he’s breath taking. Even with tired eyes and disheveled hair. Especially so even.
You shake your head. You’re not gonna burden him with your worries when he just lost a friend.
“I just miss this. Behaving like kids,” you laugh softly. “I half expect to wake up to a fort built around me again.”
You recall the time he built a massive fort around your bed without you even waking up.
He pushes your hair from your face and holds your cheek.
“I need to tell you something. If you listen, I might just build that fort while you sleep,” his eyes sparkle a little.
“I’ll listen but you need to sleep. No fort building,” you flick his nose softly. It earns a small smile and a breathy laugh.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you,” he says so softly that your ears ring. You jolt, staring at him.
There’s no way he said that, you had to be dreaming. He was just your best friend, your best friend that you buried feelings for. How could he possibly feel the same way?
“Are you sure this isn’t the near death experience talking?” You ask. You run your hand up his arm and punch his ear lobe.
“I’ve loved you more deeply than I’ve let on for years. I can sense that you feel it too. I see no reason to run from it,” he smiles and it’s a relieved one.
“Spence, I love you too. I…” you stammer. He knows that. “I mean I’ve fallen for you too,” you giggle.
You scoot closer to him so that your legs intertwine with his and your chest is pressed into his. His smile is refreshed and hopeful, the grief still lingering in his eyes though.
He kisses you softly on the forehead and you nuzzle into his neck.
“Tonight we’ll just be kids again,” he sighs.
“And tomorrow?” You ask, squeezing him tighter.
“Tomorrow, I get to be wholeheartedly in love with you. No hiding, no restraints,” he whispers as his hands play in your hair.
Your heart soars and you can’t believe it. Your love. Your Spence, loves you back.
“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” you smile into him.
The two of you fall into content silence. You watch the tree branches sway in the moonlight outside until Spence falls asleep in your arms. It is then in the steadiness of his breathing that you find sleep as well.
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sdr2lovemail · 11 months
Note
Can you do a Sanemi x F reader where the reader gets hurt badly on a mission and passes out Infront of the butterfly estate and Sanemi encounters them on his way out from the butterfly mansion to a Mission. I think Sanemi would be angry and worried at first but slowly calm down once they get better. Happy ending? Anyways thank you if you do happen to do this!! <3
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Emotional scars (GN Reader)
Synopsis: Finding you wounded and unconscious in front of the butterfly mansion, Sanemi blows up at you.
Note: Eeee, I gotta practice the comfort part of hurt/comfort. It's more of a bittersweet ending than a happy one. Pronouns or gendered terms don't come up in this.
Requests are open!
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Using your sword as a makeshift crutch, you hobble through the forest. Not bothering to wait for the kakushi to arrive, you were sure you could make it to the butterfly mansion. The mission was grueling. It seemed that the demon had never-ending stamina. It even managed to get a good slash on your side. You tied your haori to try and staunch the wound. Though, there was still the feeling of the warm, sticky blood dripping down.
Breaking through the woods, the gates of the butterfly mansion are in view. With dizzy, uncoordinated steps, you get closer to getting some rest. Your head felt foggy. You weren’t sure which way you were walking anymore. 
When did you collapse? Your cheek is against the cool stones of the courtyard. It felt strangely comfortable. You’ll rest your eyes, only for a moment. Your body goes limp as you drift off into unconsciousness.
Inside the butterfly mansion, a stubborn wind hashira stomps along. “For the last time, Kocho, I’m not spending the night here. I’m fine.” 
“You have three broken ribs, Shinazugawa. I wouldn’t call that fine. You should stay here through the night and let us look after you.” Shinobu followed Sanemi, her usual smile gracing her lips. “We wouldn’t want your injury to get any worse.”
He stopped before the door and turned to face her; he could feel himself getting stressed. Tired after an extended mission, he wished to go home and sleep, not stick around Shinobu’s estate. “I’m not some low-ranking slayer. It’s not like I’ll curl up and die because of some broken ribs. I’m leaving.”
As Sanemi opened the door and walked into the courtyard, he realized he almost stepped on something. With his brain foggy with sleep, and the dark blanket of the night, it took him a moment to see what it was. His eyes widened. “What the hell?!”
Your head ached when you came to. The wooden ceiling of the butterfly mansion greets you. Slowly, sitting up and looking around the room; no one was occupying the other beds. Your body burned and ached at the slightest movement.  For a moment, you thought you were completely alone. That was until you could hear a familiar snore.
Resting on a chair next to the bed was Sanemi. He had his head resting on his arms against the bed. Contrasting his permanent scowl when he was awake, he looked so peaceful. The crease in his brow was gone, and his shoulders were relaxed. It was nice to see him like this. 
Gently, you set a hand atop his unruly hair. His eyes shot open the second your palm met his scalp. Wide, bloodshot eyes flicked up to meet yours. Sanemi practically leapt out of the chair. It was silent; the only noise was birds chirping outside. His expression was unreadable as his stare bore into you.
With a weak smile, you break the deafening silence. “Nemi, I’m so happy to see you.” Your voice was a strained whisper. Your throat itched and burned as you talked. “I was planning to visit you after my mission, and well…”. 
A cup of water was thrust in your direction, a scarred hand connected to it. “Drink.” Came the simple word of Sanemi’s rough yet gentle voice.
Taking the cup, you give him a grateful nod before gulping it down. The cool liquid helps soothe your aching throat. “Thank you.” He takes the cup and sets it on the nightstand. Sanemi shifts so his body can fully face you. 
“Quit the corps.” 
It was such a cold, blunt sentence. Any hint of warmth in Sanemi’s voice was gone. His face held no expression now. There’s a faint twitch in his hand.
“Huh, why are you saying that so suddenly?” You asked, confused by his demand. Once you started dating, Sanemi would ask if you had any plans for your future, if you ever wanted to do something besides hunting. But never had he been this forward about leaving the corps.
Sanemi’s face goes through a few different emotions before settling on anger. He takes a couple steps closer to the bed, a scowl on his face. “Didn’t you hear me?! I said quit! Quit the corps; quit being a demon slayer!” He growled, his eyes intense. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst.
You felt shaken. Sanemi’s temper was never toward you. To see it happen now felt like a punch to the gut. Especially with your head throbbing in pain. “I should quit just because I got hurt? We’re slayers. It's practically a part of the job.” 
“Well, this job isn’t for you! You were lying half-dead on Kocho’s doorstep! Might as well quit while you still have your life!” Sanemi shouted. His voice filled with anger and something more pained.
Feeling annoyed and hurt, you yelled back. “I just woke up, and the first thing you wanna do is chastise me? You’ve come home hurt many times, Sanemi. I’ve never told you to quit!’
“This is different. I’m a hashira. I’ve faced demons ten times stronger than any pathetic thing you’ve managed to kill. You’re weak, and those who are weak die! It’s amazing you got passed final selection at all!”
The room suddenly fell silent. Sanemi’s heavy breathing was the only thing filling the air. His face was red with rage. He stares down at you, and you suddenly feel small. He wasn’t a hashira for no reason. Seeing him tower over you like this was intimidating.
After a long, tense moment of silence, Sanemi speaks once more. “Leave the fucking corps.” Those were the last words before he stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. 
You didn’t see him around for days. Not once had he come around to apologize or even visit. Sanemi had purposely been avoiding coming by the butterfly mansion. He would have one of the kakushi treat him or just walk back to his estate after a mission. He felt terrible about how he treated you, but it was necessary. To protect you, he had to be cruel.
Though, as time passed, he just kept feeling worse. He had to yell at you so you would quit the corps. He had to treat you like he did with Genya. But did that even work? His brother still became a demon slayer, even going as far as eating demons. This aching feeling was gnawing at him. You were just as stupidly stubborn. You wouldn’t leave the corps just because he treated you like crap.
It had been a while since that argument had taken place. Your wounds were healing nicely, and you would be back to going on missions soon. Shinobu had stopped by for a check-up. She began to chat as she changed your bandages.
“You know, Shinaguzawa was about to burst a vein when he found you outside my estate.” She chuckled.
You huffed and rolled your eyes, still upset with your partner. “I’m sure he was.”
“He was yelling so loud. I was sure he would wake my other patients.”
The night Sanemi found you, he felt many things. While mostly anger, it was also grief and fear. He kneeled over your crumpled form, taking you in his arms. It was like there was a loud ringing in his ears. He could only feel warm blood soaking through your uniform, staining his own. 
Shinobu was only a few steps behind him and quickly took in the sight. She ushered him to bring you into the estate. It was hard to separate him from your body. He was holding on so tightly. At first, Shinobu let him stay in the room as she worked. But as he kept barking at her to hurry up, to make you stop hurting, she kicked him out of the room. He sat by that door for hours, not bothering to change out of his blood-soaked clothes. He rushed into the room as soon as Shinobu finished patching your wounds.
The insect hashira left, allowing Sanemi his privacy. He sat by your unconscious body, Holding your hand tight and feeling your weak pulse.
“Why, why are you trying to leave me too? Why does this always happen to me?!” Through his anger and grief, a few tears spilled from his wide eyes. He needed to protect you. One of the last people he had left. No matter what it took or what he had to do. Sanemi couldn’t keep losing the ones he loved.
You were out for days, having lost so much blood. Sanemi stayed by your side whenever he could, only ever leaving for missions or meetings.
“Hm, you're healing well. Your ribs only have slight bruising now, and your concussion is gone. Once you finish your rehabilitation training, I’ll discharge you.” Shinobu spoke with her usual light tone as she wrote a few notes down.
Buttoning your shirt back up, you give her a polite smile. “Thank you, Kocho. You’ll have to let me pay you back one day.” 
“Oh, no need! Healing is just what I do.” As she spoke, her eyes gained a mischievous glint. Her dainty form takes a seat on your bed. She leans in close with a smirk. “But if you're offering, how about you pay me back with some gossip?” 
You look at her with a bit of suspicion. “What kind of gossip?”
Shinobu chuckled a little, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, don’t play dumb. That argument wasn’t exactly quiet. I’m sure I can help. I’m a great listener.”
You let out a disgruntled sigh, looking at the hashira next to you. “I mean, why ask if you already heard everything?” Shaking your head, you decide to feed Shinobu’s curiosity. “It's just, Sanemi got so mad at me. I finally wake up after days, and the first thing he does is berate me.” You rant. It felt good to be able to talk about this.
“Well, Shinaguzawa does have the emotional intelligence of a brick. That doesn’t excuse his actions, but it does explain them. So, do you plan on forgiving him?” Shinobu asked, wondering how you’d answer.
That question was harder to answer the longer you thought about it. You wanted to forgive Sanemi, but what he said was hurtful. Even if he wanted to protect you, could you forgive him for saying those things? 
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to, but I still feel so hurt.” A pang of sadness shot through your chest. 
Shinobu looks at you with a look of sympathy. Setting a gentle hand on your shoulder, she stands up. “I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. Even if he won’t admit it, he’s pretty soft towards you.” She chuckled.
A few days passed, and you had fully recovered. Tonight would be your last night in the butterfly mansion. Packing your things, the door to your room slides open. Turning around, Sanemi stood in the doorframe. In his scarred hands was a parcel wrapped with twine. He looked as if he were nervous.
And truthfully, he was. He could fight waves of demons and not break a sweat. But emotions were a whole other ballpark for him. There’s a long, awkward silence as he stands there. He clears his throat a bit before speaking. “Can I come in?” 
You reply with a silent nod. Sanemi moved to take a seat on the bed. You sit next to him, though a bit far away. For a moment, it’s like he hesitates before offering you the parcel. “This is for you.” He said quite bluntly. “I know it looks like shit. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
Taking the parcel and unwrapping it, it was filled with food. Fried meat and vegetables topped over a bed of rice. On the side, there was also a few ohagi. The knife cuts were sloppy, and the ohagi was misshapen. The food was clearly homemade. 
Before you could say anything, not even a thank you, Sanemi began to speak again. ‘I want to…apologize. I know crappy lunch and words won’t fix anything I said. Seeing you hurt made me lose my shit, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 
“Sanemi, I-”
“Let me finish.” He almost snapped but looked apologetic afterward. “I need to work on my emotions rather than resorting to anger. It’s immature of me. But seeing you on the ground, looking like a corpse,” Sanemi stopped talking for a second, trying to bite back the rage bubbling up. “I want you to have a good life. No bleeding out, no fighting, no demons. But, being a slayer is your life. I can’t just tell you to drop everything you know because I don’t like it.”  
His tone gets more tense, almost pained. “I want to work things out, and I hope you can forgive me.”
Standing up, you move to stand in front of Sanemi. You wordlessly wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. The hashira was expecting a slap, any kind of negative reaction. To feel your arms hold him felt like a breath of fresh air.
“I still feel upset with you. And we’ll need to talk about that.” You curl up further into his arms, into his warmth. “But for now, I just want you to hold me.” You had been so lonely during the weeks he avoided you. Even if you were upset, you still loved him.
Sanemi quickly obliges.  Wrapping his strong, scarred arms around you. Feeling your soothing heartbeat, feeling that you were alive. Though he was still tense, a wave of relief washed over him. It was okay if you didn’t forgive him now, or maybe ever. At the moment, all that mattered to him was that you were alive.
The two of you would have a long talk. But for now, it was nice to sit in each other presence.
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1d1195 · 1 year
Text
Traditional VIII
Well this is the fastest I've ever written. Sorry to leave you hanging on part 7 like that. You can read Traditional here.
I actually wanted this part to be longer but I think I stopped it at a good spot to continue with what I want in the next part but the next part will be a hot minute before it’s posted also part 9 will pick up right where this leaves off.
Warnings: angst (see I remembered the word this time), death mentioned, mourning, (etc.)
“Can I help you?”
Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly.
She stopped by the bathroom to take stock of what she looked like as soon as she got to the floor. She put the bag at her feet and stood in front of the sink counter and gripped the edge. The pain in her arm from her slip ached from the bruise forming on her forearm and rippled up the length of her arm as she held onto the counter. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked in the mirror.
Ill. She looked ill. From a green complexion to her red eyes. Her nose was cold and reddening by the second making her look like she had a cold. Bloodshot eyes and overall, just the pallor of a ghost. Her head ached and it was a dumb idea to come back to work. Surely, she would mess up more things. But there wasn’t much else she could do and nowhere else she could really go.
Slowly she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest in defeat. Then tilted her neck all the way back to the ceiling. “Goddamn it,” she hissed to herself. Grabbing her bag, she walked swiftly back to her office. Maybe she would just sit there and stare at her computer screen until Harry finally fired her.
Niall covered the microphone with his hand. “Darling?” He asked curiously as the door to her office opened. “I’ll call y’back,” he dropped his phone back to the receiver and he hurried to her little space. “I thought—”
“I have no where to go,” she said curtly. Niall didn’t deserve her abrupt tone, but it was the only one she could give. This day was so awful, and she had nowhere to go except the one place she would most assuredly run into at least half of her problems. And that was her best option.
Without a debit card, she had no way to get to the hospital. Her apartment belonged to Harry and right now she didn’t want to be anywhere that was associated with him and the part of her life with him outside company walls. Her laptop was broken and even if she could use it her brain wouldn’t function.
“What are you talking—your apartment?” He reminded her with a question in his voice.
“You mean Harry’s apartment?”
“Love, all things considered, he wouldn’t kick you out or something... he wouldn’t do that to you. Not even on his worst day.”
She shook her head. That’s not what she meant but it was a new fear that twisted her stomach in knots on top of everything else. The tears flooded back into her vision. “I don’t want to talk about any of this Niall. I just want to work so I don’t have to think. If I have even a second to think about anything but work, I’m going to explode, and I can’t do that in front of you—”
“Sure, you can,” he said encouragingly. “Come on,” he said and tugged her out of her seat and into his office. She was too weak to do anything but follow obligingly. He gently guided her to the sofa he had in the room and hurried to his desk. He scribbled something, practically ran back to the door, and smacked the paper on the front before shutting it, blocking out the rest of the floor.
“What’s that?” She asked, curiosity getting the best of her as she looked at her hands in her lap.
“Says ‘Do not disturb. Meeting in progress.’”
“You’re going to get in trouble because of me,” she mumbled.
“Don’t worry, I know the boss pretty well.”
“That’s especially why.”
“He left for the day.”
She blinked. “What?” She asked softly. Other than being sick, Harry didn’t leave early. Ever. Most often he stayed late. The rest he left on time and not a moment sooner.
“He wasn’t feeling himself,” Niall said with a shrug. “Think you know why,” he was so casual about it. Her heart fluttered with worry despite how angry he was with her. How was she supposed to feel? She was in love with him. It didn’t matter. “Go on, then. Please tell me. I’ve been dying to help you as much as you help me.”
She shook her head. “I can’t Niall. You’re my boss—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, love. You’re also the love of my best friend’s life. Would you just talk to me already?” She looked at him as if she was really seeing him for the first time. She couldn’t believe he said that out loud. Now she understood why he put the note up. He wasn’t doing this as her boss. This was Harry’s best friend. If she could dream or hope about a future with Harry, he would be one of her best friends, too. “Pretend I’m not your boss right now.”
She apparently didn’t need much more encouragement for her already bubbling emotions to flow over. Poor Niall took it all in stride. Every word that exploded out of her, all the tears, everything. It wasn’t like when she talked to Harry, and it definitely wasn’t like when she talked to Louis. She told him all about the last twenty-four hours from Hell. She listed every inconvenience, every heartbreak. The debit card, the mean coworker, her dad, how her coffee tasted bad and got everywhere, her laptop was broken, and Louis and Eleanor were her only friends, and she couldn’t even go see them. “And of course, Harry hates me, so I didn’t get to see him last night,” she finished blubbering. She didn’t give lots of details on most anything, just the coworker since that was one of the only ones that she could see him dealing with. Not that she wanted him to.
“To be fair, I think Harry hates me, right now,” he smirked sadly.
“That’s almost worse,” she sniffled.
Niall rolled his eyes as he rubbed her back soothingly with the palm of his hand and watched her dab her eyes with the tissues he got from his desk. “He hates me because he thinks I’m stealing you away because you didn’t tell him any of that. And he’s mad that you didn’t want to tell him. He thought your relationship was evolving and you took like ten steps back without a word. Christ darling, I’m mad you for not saying anything about the harassment. That is not okay. You’re not plain, you’re lovely. She’s just jealous.”
She found it interesting that he agreed with Louis’s assessment. “That’s what Louis said, even before she talked to me.”
Niall shook his head. “She was extremely cruel for no reason, I’m so sorry, love. You did not deserve that.”
She shrugged awkwardly, defeated still. Even getting all of that off her chest. “I am plain. It’s why I was so worried about my... situation with Harry...I don’t...” she took a deep breath. “You’re not my boss right now?” She repeated his statement as a question for reassurance. He shook his head.
“Just a really good friend,” he promised. “I won’t tell Harry,” he added for good measure.
“I don’t even think he’ll want to sleep with me because I’m so ordinary and...” Despite his talk with Niall and that fact they were both aware of her relationship with Harry, she still didn’t like bringing it up. Plus, the untraditional details were lost on her, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to Niall awkwardly.
“Love,” Niall smirked. “Harry is...infatuated with you,” he promised.  “You don’t have to worry about any of that kind of thing. He would—look I don’t want to say it because it sounds like locker room talk and I don’t want you to think he and I talk about you like that. We don’t, I promise—but that’s not something you need to worry about. I’ve never seen him like this about anyone he’s ever been involved with romantically one way or another.”
It made her heart hope, and she hated it. She was prepared for defeat. Harry wouldn’t be in love with her anymore. They wouldn’t get dinner on Mondays or watch movies on Thursdays. There would be no more little sleepovers where he would be sick and accidentally tell her he loved her and forget by morning. She shook her head. “Niall, I...” She swallowed.
“Please tell me you’re in love with him, I’ve been dying for you to say it almost as much as he has.”
The smallest pause. Niall wasn’t her boss. “Of course, I’m in love with him. How can you not be?” She asked, face blushing, as she stared at her hands.
Niall sighed. “You need to tell him what you told me,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, it’s not his problem. I’m a big girl and...I have to handle it.”
“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he promised her. “I don’t know everything, but I see the way you work, and I know bits and pieces of what Harry is willing to tell me. I know you want to fix every problem that crosses your path for anyone that has one. If you walked into your office and spoke to the you that sits at your computer, how would you help?” He asked. “Would you tell yourself to keep it all bottled up or take a hike and deal with it yourself? Or would you, the person who helps everyone with anything they may need, help you?”
She took a deep breath. The first bit of clarity over the last twelve hours was finally reaching her ears from Niall. “I would help.”
“Then help yourself, darling. Please. Tell Harry.”
She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. “I think I have to go to the hospital first,” she said to Niall. “But I don’t have a debit card or a ride.”
“Call Harry’s driver. He won’t care. Or I’ll take you, I don’t mind at all,” Niall reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his plastic cards. “I think this has a 25,000-spending limit,” he smirked. “I’d be impressed if you used all of it in one weekend,” he smiled. “Bring it back Monday,” he shrugged. “Definitely use it to get a new laptop when you have time.”
Sucking her lip into her mouth she awkwardly took the card “Please don’t tell Harry about...her...”
He frowned. “Darling,” his tone was so disapproving. It sounded like that was going to be Niall’s first call. Maybe second if he called the bitchy woman down to his office to fire her after the sweet girl left.
“He’ll fire her.”
“As he should! She harassed you!”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please, Niall,” she whispered.
He sighed bitterly. If even one thing that happened to her over the last day didn’t happen, he wouldn’t have listened. But she had been through enough and he didn’t want to be the cause of any more of her anxiety. Besides, once he was officially forgiven by Harry, he would ask for front row seats to her exit interview. “Okay, darling. I won’t. Go to the hospital. Then you have to go to Harry’s.”
*
Harry’s driver was kind throughout the ride and didn’t ask her a single question about why she needed to go to a hospital. In fact, other than asking if she wanted to listen to a certain type of music, he didn’t ask any questions. “Won’t Harry notice?” She eventually asked.
“No,” he shrugged one shoulder as he passed towards the streets that used to be home. She lived an hour away now, but it felt like an entirely foreign country right now. “Probably not. If he needed me, I would probably send another one of the drivers from the company,” he said simply.
The remainder of the drive was silent. Her heart beating erratically with every closer turn to the town she left. “Do you need help?” He asked when they arrived at the hospital. She shook her head steeling herself for the horribleness she was about to endure in so many emotional forms.
“No... thank you,” she said gratefully. “And... if you have to leave... I understand. But could you please...don’t tell Harry.”
“Of course, Miss,” he smiled encouragingly. Taking her work bag with her, she stepped out of the car and headed into the hospital.
*
It was a little over an hour later that she left the hospital with one less parent in existence. Although, she hadn’t had two parents since before her brother died, she felt saddened knowing that it would never be amended. And for her mom, it would never be the same. She would always be alone, now.
Naturally, it didn’t seem to bother her mother all that much. “I’ll never forgive you,” her mom said with tears in her eyes. “You can leave now.”
When it came to her parents, there wasn’t much she could do but listen. Part of her wanted to appease them and hope that eventually they would love her again. So of course, after she said goodbye there was nothing left for her to do except listen to her mother’s request.
Her loss didn’t feel as sad as it should have. Probably because when her brother passed, she didn’t just lose her brother. She lost her best friend and her parents all in one swoop. Mourning her brother at age sixteen when her friends were buying prom dresses and going on college tours in hopes of meeting college boys was a tragedy that Shakespeare wouldn’t write.
There was nothing like mourning the death of people who were still alive and lived with you every day.
When she exited the hospital room, she called the driver once more who told her to wait five minutes and he would pull around so she wouldn’t have to wait in the cold. She stood outside anyway, for the full five minutes letting the cold wash over her. She was already numb. Everything that had happened in such a short amount of time was numbing her. The cold didn’t even hurt because she was already in so much pain.
All she wanted was to see Harry. Her chest ached at the thought of being held by him. It would cure her broken heart, she was certain.
She sniffled and a few stray tears spilt over her lash line. Without her realizing, she got more teary as she waited, only noticing when his driver reappeared. “Miss,” the driver said hurriedly. He was rushing over to her on the sidewalk reaching for her bag and offered her a tissue from his pocket. He placed a hand on her lower back to guide her up the sidewalk to the car. “Is everything alright? Are you—”
She shook her head, tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She opened the door herself as he looked on with worry. “I’m fine,” she whispered but her voice broke on the word fine. “Can you take me to Harry’s?”
*
The closer she got to his house, the more anxious and sadder she got. As he parked in the driveway, she strongly considered telling him to take her back to the apartment. However, she all but promised Niall she would come here. Maybe these tears would make him listen at least for a moment. Wringing her hands together, she sat silently, awkwardly in her seat before the driver even made a move after several minutes. With a deep breath, she swallowed and pushed the door out of the way. “Can you wait five more minutes in case he really hates me, and I need to leave?” She asked.
The driver chuckled dryly. “He doesn’t hate you, but I’ll wait,” he said.
She made her way across the path and up the steps to his front door. She knocked and was prepared to stare at her feet the whole time she waited for Harry to open the door. Maybe she even planned to stare at her feet if he was willing to talk to her. She was going to beg or cry (probably both) just for five minutes to explain everything. Five minutes to try and fix her broken heart.
“Can I help you?”
Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly. It felt like she was swallowing her tongue. She backed away, nearly losing her balance as she did. She wanted to be embarrassed about almost losing her balance but even standing upright she felt like she was swaying and the only thing she felt was betrayal and she had no right to feel that way.
“Whoa, hey,” the girl said reaching for her before she fell back off the steps. She regained her balance and felt like her stomach was going to heave up anything she had eaten—which wasn’t the time to remember but she realized she only had a bagel and a coffee this morning almost twelve hours ago.
Of course, Harry would find someone else. He was...him. He had money and he could have any girl he wanted. Someone beautiful. Someone who didn’t have all the baggage that she did. Someone who didn’t hide from him and someone who would do what a companion like her was supposed to do.
“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” She asked tilting her head curiously, trying to figure out who she was. Like this was normal for her to be answering the door and for her to be standing there. “Are you alright?” She asked gently.
She wished she wasn’t nice. It was making it harder for her to be mad. Seeing this kind woman opening the door to the house of the man she was in love with would have been so much easier if she could have been mad. But she was just heartbreakingly sad. “N-no...I...I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she repeated hurrying down the few steps and nearly missed the last one tripping into the yard. So much so, she lost one of her shoes. Worse yet in her fit of non-embarrassment, just total shock, she left it there. “Oh my God,” she whimpered to herself. She was now truly worried she would throw up. She turned quickly and practically ran back for the driveway.
“Kitten?!” Harry shouted from somewhere in the house.
“Hey, wait!” The woman called suddenly.
“Fuck,” she heard Harry hiss as she hurried back to the car, tears falling quickly down her cheeks as she awkwardly limped without her shoe the path to the driveway. With her head start she thought she really might make it in the car and drive away before Harry got to her. But he had much longer legs...and he wasn’t bogged down by missing a shoe. “Goddammit! Love, stop!” He shouted running across the yard. She pulled the door handle quickly trying to get away from this house, but the door smacked shut at the same time. Harry’s hand pressed to the window while the other grabbed her arm right where it bruised. She inhaled sharply in pain and winced. Harry dropped her arm like a hot potato, he released a breath out of frustration. “Kitten, stop,” he was out of breath from his short run—but it wasn’t the run making him breathless but the thought of losing her at this moment. She wanted to look up at him and see those perfect green eyes, but she was so scared. “Look at me, please,” he begged. But her eyes stayed glued to the driveway. Harry was only in socks, and she thought that was cute. His feet in socks. It wasn’t the time, but her brain was operating on no sleep and way too much trauma for one day.
Her face crumpled in pain and she shook her head. She couldn’t look at him, if she looked all the pain would boil over and she would start crying and never stop. Why didn’t Harry deserve some woman that would be there for him the way she couldn’t be? Why wouldn’t he want someone beautiful and not plain? Someone who wasn’t so young that she was still in the internship phase. Someone who didn’t need his money or a job. Someone who was brilliant enough to help him with whatever his company and he himself needed.
“Hey,” the woman’s voice suddenly sounded beside her. It was gentle and out of instinct she turned to the direction of the woman that was currently amplifying just how terrible her day could get just by existing. It wasn’t her fault either. She really thought the girl was beautiful and lovely. She was kind to not sneer at her as a sniveling mess. She sniffled looking at her curiously. The beautiful girl handed Harry her missing shoe then stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “M’Gemma,” she said softly, apologetically in tone as she smiled at her with a terrible look of pity directed toward her.
Even though one of the only things she prided herself on was being intelligent this had to be the dumbest thing she had ever done in her whole life. She was speechless. Couldn’t even say her own name as she held her hand out awkwardly and (fortunately for her) instinctively for Harry’s sister to shake.
At the same time, Harry crouched to the ground and placed her shoe back on her foot holding her ankle so gently, like she might break. “I was just going, truly,” Gemma smiled at her sympathetically. “I’ve heard loads about you. I’ll meet you again sometime, yeah?” She asked quietly. Harry was silent throughout the interaction. His breathing erratic as he was hoping she wouldn’t leave. “Bye Harry,” she kissed him on the cheek and Gemma went to the other side of the car and gave the driver a wave before sliding into the back seat. The car drove away leaving her alone with Harry.
“Kitten,” he whispered softly.
“I’ve had a terrible couple of days,” she sniffled tears clouding her vision again. The fear of Harry finding someone else nearly ruined her completely. She was lucky that wasn’t the case. But she still had to have this talk that she promised Niall.
“I know y’have love, I just...Niall texted me...and Louis is worried...and... my love,” his voice was so gentle. It pulled at every string in her heart.
She started to say the speech she had planned in her head when she arrived. Before she saw Gemma. “I know you hate me, but I have nowhere else to go,” she whimpered, and it was all too much, and she finally let her knees give out as she melted to the ground. She covered her face and cried.
“No. Baby, I don’t hate you. Not at all. M’so sorry about everything,” he promised crouching beside her. “Let’s go inside...s’too cold t’have y’out here,” he lifted around her waist to help her stand. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her because whatever demons she was fighting right now had made her weak. But she seemed overwhelmed already and he didn’t want to add to that any more than he already had by not realizing sooner that Gemma was talking to her without her knowing who Gemma was. So, once she was standing again, he held her hand and pulled her back to the house.
*
Gemma had been extremely helpful in working through Harry’s emotions with him. “You really think Niall of all people would do that to you?” She rolled her eyes.
Harry felt like her little brother at that moment. He didn’t too often anymore because he was always busy with his company, and he was always busy doing things that he never really got a chance to just be the younger sibling and have Gemma take care of him like she used to when they were young. “I think I love her, Gem.”
“Ya think?” She rolled her eyes. Harry sighed. The pair of them were sitting on his sofa and sipping tea. They ordered out for dinner and were now chatting so Harry would calm down. Harry never left work early, but he was so distraught and angry that something had to be done. Gemma came right over, and he told her everything about the girl of his dreams. Unbeknownst to Harry, Gemma was thrilled that Harry cared so deeply about someone in this capacity. Like Niall, she noticed it was so different than anyone he ever involved himself with up to this point in time. She couldn’t wait to tell their mum.
After venting for almost two hours and working through what he needed to do next, Gemma chatted about herself and caught him up on her life. In comparison, it wasn’t much. Work was good and her dating life was good. There wasn’t much to report.
Her phone vibrated. Hey Gem. It was Niall. I know he’s pissed at me, but can you tell him to look at his phone? It’s an emergency.
Frowning, she responded to Niall while she called out to Harry. “Harry, look at your phone. Niall said there’s an emergency.” He was putting the mugs in the sink when Gemma gave him the directions. As he put the phone in his hand, his stomach dropped. He hadn’t looked at it in hours.
He had a message from Niall and a message from an unknown number claiming to be Louis. His chest felt tight. The only thought he managed was that something was wrong with her; and that was the worst kind of thought.
Niall’s said: Harry...you have to talk to her. It’s bad.
Then a second message: Really bad.
He frowned feeling worry for the sweet girl. He almost called her instead of reading Louis’ message, but there was a knock at the door, changing his plan as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. He tapped on the message from Louis. “I’ll answer it on my way out, have a good weekend, Harry!” Gemma called cheerfully. He didn’t even respond because he was busy reading.
Louis’ message was a long one: Hey Harry, it’s Louis. I stole your phone number from her back in August without her knowing. She would kill me for messaging you, but we’re on a plane and... well... she said she was feeling poor and headed to your house. But El and I just figured out WHY she’s poorly. She’s ignoring her phone, or something... Can you please tell her to call me? She probably won’t even tell you, so she won’t be a bother, and I can’t tell you through a text message... I’m sure she doesn’t want to interrupt our weekend either, but... please have her call me back. Or you can when you have her in a stable place... Thank you for taking care of her... I don’t think I’ve ever said that before to you... I don’t trust her with very many people. So, thank you for taking care of my best friend.
It took him a moment to pull himself from the message and that the other voice outside was the sweet girl speaking to Gemma at the door.
“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” Gemma asked gently.
“N-no...I... I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, and Harry shook his head trying to reach the fact that she was there.
“Kitten?!” He shouted. By the time he raced to the door, she was nearing the car. He wondered when the driver got there briefly, but he was nearly sprinting, almost pushing Gemma to the ground, to make sure he got to the car before she did. As she pulled the door handle open sniffling as she desperately tried to leave, he smacked the door shut immediately. He would not let her leave.
Something was wrong with her arm because when he reached for it, she winced in pain and Harry thought he would murder someone if they hurt her. The messages from Niall and Louis scrolling through his mind. “Kitten, stop,” he whispered as she tried to reach for the car again. “Look at me please,” he begged. It had only been a day, but he was a lovesick man. He missed her face and he wanted to see the beautiful eyes he loved so much, the little windows to her soul. Even if he just saw them for a second. But she kept her eyes to the ground. Fortunately, at that moment, Gemma introduced herself.
That’s when Harry put it together that she thought Gemma was some other woman. He didn’t even find it funny, although he wished he could have. He felt so terrible she thought so little of how much she meant to Harry that he would find someone else in less than twenty-four hours.
Now, they were inside. “Where do y’want to sit?” He asked. “The sofa or the bed?”
“I don’t—”
“Love. Please, where will you be most comfortable?” He whispered gently.
“The sofa,” she answered.
He softly nudged her to the living area, taking her coat off before she sat and then he crouched to take her shoes off. Lightly, he pushed the sleeve of her blouse up because he didn’t forget, and he saw the nasty bruise on her arm that made his heart ache with anger. “What happened?” His voice was short. He thought of the messages both Niall and Louis sent him. “Louis texted me. Said you’re ignoring his calls.”
She shook her head. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw my phone.” He frowned. He was glad she was here. If he tried to call her and she didn’t answer, he would have gone mad with worry.  She sniffled. “Harry,” she croaked.
“M’here, kitten,” he promised, and he pushed himself to kneel between her legs and he placed his hands on either side of her face. It felt like fire to touch her like this. He craved it so badly. Not having it at movie night and not seeing her until five minutes ago...and knowing she was hurt? His heart was broken. “Tell me, please,” he begged. “I’ll kill someone if I have to.”
She sighed. “You have to listen to everything before you say something or I won’t be able to finish it all,” she whispered.
“Sure love,” he nodded obediently.
“And you can’t kill or fire anyone.” He didn’t respond because he wasn’t sure he could make that promise to her. Especially if someone caused that bruise. He pressed his lips together, knelt between her legs and held her face to keep her gaze. “It’s not going to make sense, so much went wrong so fast,” she told him.
“I can keep up,” he promised. There was a moment of pause as she collected all her thoughts trying to figure out how to begin.
She began her story. “Someone stole my debit card, and I don’t... As a rule, I don’t use my credit card... at least not right now. I have too many bills and worries to be using it. I can’t wrack up any more debt... So, I basically have no access to my account or money for a week,” Harry took a hand from her face to reach into his pocket for his wallet. That was an easy fix, and he was sad it started off so easy because that meant it was going to get much worse.
She shook her head. “Niall already gave me his, because I needed it to get to the hospital,” she said, stilling his hand from opening his wallet. She gave his hand a squeeze at the sound of Niall’s name. But he didn’t feel jealous. He did in the moment seeing his best friend holding the object of all his affections so comfortingly in his arms. He didn’t know what was wrong and he was irrationally angry that Niall wouldn’t say—even when he didn’t know at the time either. He wanted to be the one comforting her. That was all.
“Hospital?” He questioned his eyes falling back to her arm.
“I’m jumping ahead. It wasn’t for me.”
He frowned. Putting the wallet on the coffee table he would thank Niall later for offering his help while Harry was being an idiot. “Go on,” he said, and he moved to sit beside her. He stretched his legs out on the chaise section and pulled her over his body, so her legs laid over his lap. This way he could see into her eyes and still touch her. He kept one of his hands wrapped up in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I was going to try and figure out how to transfer some of my money on my laptop to a temporary gift card or something… and maybe work on my internship reflection for school but... my laptop wouldn’t turn on,” she mumbled. “And then at the same time it occurred to me I can’t even buy a laptop because I don’t have a debit card.”
“We can go buy you a new one tomorrow,” he promised.
“S’not the point,” she mumbled. “You’re not supposed to interrupt,” she reminded him.
He squeezed her hand. “M’sorry.”
“The woman from the meeting who thinks I’m stupid because I’m an intern,” she whispered the description. “Do you know who I’m talking about?” Harry nodded, curious as to how someone he only saw at meetings had anything to do with this story. Harry almost forgot about her. She was right. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, he hadn’t even had a chance to debrief with her the wonderful job she did in person and to tell her not to worry about the woman from the meeting.
“You’re not stup—”
She continued without letting Harry compliment her. “She told me that you wouldn’t sleep with me.”
Harry blinked rapidly a few times, shook his head trying to clear it. Surely, he missed something to get to this section of the story. “What? I’m sorry...what do you—”
She looked at their hands held together. “She came to my office, unprompted, while I was sad about my laptop, and she just said I was stupid and plain, and you wouldn’t sleep with me because I wasn’t your type. I’m not special or smart and just because I had one good idea and I work well with Niall didn’t mean you would want me... an intern.”
He had no idea the condition to hear her story was not firing an employee was for the benefit of some cruel woman who was just so wrong. He felt speechless because everything in those two sentences was wrong. She wasn’t plain, she was so goddamn beautiful she haunted his every thought. Add in the fact she was so brilliant and kind. Harry couldn’t get enough of her, and the idea of sleeping with her...
Again, he if it meant he could have her there in his life forever, he wouldn’t care about being intimate. But otherwise, he would kill to be so close to her. “Kitten,” he whispered.He was so mad. The rage in his chest was consuming. She would be fired. For one reason or another. Harry didn’t care what he had to do. He wouldn’t let anyone speak that way to another employee. But especially not the angel seated beside him.
“It gets worse,” she mumbled.
Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. He didn’t know how that could be possible, but he supposed he would find out. “Please continue, then.”
“She knocked my coffee all over my desk,” she said. “And it got all over my skirt, my laptop, the floor, my desktop, and then...I went to clean it and I slipped and that’s how I got this bruise,” she gestured to her arm. Instinctively, Harry reached out and brushed his fingers over it. Not only did he want to fire her, but he also wanted to kill her. The poor girl knew exactly what Harry would do under the right circumstances and that was why she made restrictions on hearing the story as such. She was good, Harry would give her that.
“That’s when you came in,” she mumbled. “I was so sad and heartbroken I couldn’t speak to even tell you what was wrong, and I knew how sad and hurt you were that Niall was comforting me... but Harry, I would never do that to you, ever. Especially with your best friend. Regardless of this... relationship we have... I would never... it’s a—”
“I had no right to be that mad,” Harry mumbled quietly. He had long since forgiven her. She didn’t even need forgiveness because she didn’t do anything wrong.
“And then you cancelled movie night,” she whispered brokenly. Somehow this sounded like it hurt her worse than the bruise or that stupid woman’s comments. Harry’s frown deepened and he rubbed his hand on the back of his head awkwardly.
“I was so sad,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It gets worse,” she repeated. He was hoping she was done. The idea it could get worse...
Harry wanted to take her heart out so he could sew all the holes that she was opening and then give it back to her. And Harry couldn’t even sew but whatever he did had to be better than whatever wounds laid in her heart. “I was a total zombie today at work. Niall was avoiding me per you, I think. He told me to go home after lunch so I could... I don’t know I think he just wanted me away from him.” Harry frowned. That was what Niall wanted. It was all Harry’s doing because he yelled at Niall and accused him of things he shouldn’t have as his best friend. “So I was walking home—”
“Walking?! It was freezing out, kitten.”
“Can you... this is the worst part...” He was silent. But in his head, he was arranging for a car to follow her for the rest of her life and would be training a driver to somehow coerce her into the car if she refused in sub-arctic temperatures. “My mom called,” she said. Harry’s heart stopped. “I went to the hospital.” His eyebrows quirked up and he pressed his lips together. After another brief moment of utter silence, “my dad died,” she whispered.
“Kitten,” he cooed. “Baby, m’so sorry.”
This had to be one of the worst days in recorded human history. No wonder Louis’ message was so long. He was probably freaking out. “I went to the hospital...my mom...she won’t forgive me and...” she took a deep breath. “I had nowhere else to go and I just wanted you and I don’t even know if that’s fair after all I’ve put you through over the last day. So, I came here. I’m sorry for wanting you, I don’t want to—”
“Kitten,” he reached for her face and pressed his thumb over her lips so she would stop speaking and stop breaking his heart. She was here. That meant the story was over. Thank God. “I want you here. Always,” he promised. “I want you.” The relief on her face was somehow one of the most heartbreaking expressions she wore throughout the duration of her story. Harry wanted to cry at the thought. He pulled her toward him, face pressed to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. One hand snaked up her back to hold the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he kissed the space of her forehead just by her hairline before closing his eyes completely content having her there.
There were so many things that needed to be addressed. She needed to call Louis. Harry wanted to call Niall...he wanted to call that terrible woman and fire her over the phone but that would have to wait until Monday. Harry would see to it that something about the funeral be figured out. Maybe he would send one of his lawyers to deal with her mum. Her bank account, her laptop, even the driver he was seriously going to have follow her... all of it needed to be taken care of for Harry to feel like he was helping her and making her horrible thirty-some odd hours end.
But for the next five minutes he was going to hold her like it was his one and only job. “M’gonna make it all better, kitten,” he murmured brushing his lips over her forehead again. “Promise.”
--
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beom-s-author · 1 month
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txt reactions-hyung line..they saw a nightmare
warnings: fluff,angst,curse,f-word,etc.
Choi Soobin
It was all black. He was running away but not enough even his long legs. The person was chasing you and him. You and his legs are getting weaker in every second. He could almost feel himself collapsing. It felt if he has been running for hours. But he couldn't stop. You and him ran down from the road, looking for somewhere to hide. No where..You were all alone with your fate. You and him crushed to the floor. The person arrived near of you and him.
"Shit." you mumbled,trying to push yourself and getting up.
"too late." the person shooted at you. Soobin screamed.
You woke up to Soobin moving around and mumbling in his sleep.
"Jagi?" You croaked out.
All response you got was his whimpering and tossing around even more.
You sat up slowly and looked over to him . You saw his frown and the sweat was starting to form on his face. He looked terrified. Soobin started shaking, you tried to wake him up. He started calling your name louder.
"Soobin! Wake up love," you said with urgency.
After a few more tries yoi finally succeeded and he shot up breathing very heavily.
He looked at you with confused eyes. How you can be alive? The person chased you and him? Where was he? You stroked his back and kisses his forehead. You wiped his sweaty palms and shushed him.
CHOI YEONJUN
It was really late in the night. Your insomnia is messing around with you again and keeping you awake while staring at the ceiling. You squirmed in the bed and takes off the blanket. Yeonjun got awake with your sounds. "Jagi?" When he replied, You looked at him. He saw you awake with bloodshot eyes. He knows that your insomnia is active again. You laid down near of him and he was stroking your hair with his fingertips with soothing melodies.
You fell asleep after a few minutes later. But he was awake. He seems anxious about your insomnia. However, He was tired also because of practise and studio. So he slept also.
He was having a nightmare which is about how you left him. You took your luggages and left him alone in your dorm which you shared like always you did. He saw you lastly. He was scared. He shouted your name but you didn't come back. His body trembled and he woke up. He saw you near of him and holding his hands while sleeping. He sighs in relief and hugs you back. He laid down near of you and replied in his mind that you will never leave him.
CHOI BEOMGYU
You and him sitting together in the practide room. It was end of the day. He holds your hands and kisses your knuckles. You giggle at his actions and press a kiss to his forehead. He smiles at your warm actions and gets up. You both walked to your apartment while talking about the day you spend together. He was happy to see you and hold you in his arms. You were his prioperty. He was stupid in love with you. So you are :)
As you reached to your apartment, He got inside with you and you both started hugging each other and comforting. You started yawning because you were sleepy. Beomgyu notices this and holds you again. "Hey,lie down on me. I want to hear you." He replied. You smiled softly and laid down on him. Your head was on his chest and your tiny arms are holding his waist. You drifted into asleep after a few minutes later. Beomgyu was sleepy also. He decided to sleep with you. And he fell asleep after a few minutes later.
He started dreaming. It was all good but until he saw you with another man. You were kissing the guy and smiling. He felt betrayed and run to you. You looked at him and holds the other guys hand again. You threw your necklace to him which is gift for your birthday and you left him alone. He started crying. His mind was playing game. You returned to him. He got up and looked at you. "You always to busy for me with your works, I want someone for myself. I deserved this."
With your heavy words, he woke up. His heart was beating too fast. He turned to you. You were awake and looking at him. "You okay?" He sighs in relief and nods. He turned to you and replied. "Are you happy with me?" You smiled and nods. "Why did you ask?" He sighs. "Because I am too busy and we sometimes met and spent time with each other." He replied with his heavy heart. His emotions are true and honest. You turned to him. "I love you so much. So I can be aware of your schedule as an idol. Of course it is normal that you are busy. You have a lot of tasks. My duty is being thoughtful towards you." You smiled. He hugged you. "What did I do to deserve you?" You chuckled. "I don't know but it should be something too important."
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sinning-23 · 7 months
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Blowing Bubbles Blowing ZAZA
OPLA headcannons whre y/n for some reason has an ungodly amout of ouid stashed...but always offers because sharing is caring.
Warnings: uhhh some oiud, mentions of slightly nsfw topics, uhhhh yeah thats about it.
Zoro
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-Ok so.....he knows that smell, but why the hell was it coming from your room.
-He doesn't knock, just kinda cracks the door open, and there you are eyes wide like you'd been caught (technically you have) but that didn't matter.
-What DID matter was that you were smoking two blunts at once and took one out of your mouth to offer him.
-He hesitates only for a second but accepts it, closing the door behind him.
-HOT BOX HOT BOX HOT BOX
-I mean this mfs eyes are bloodshot with a satiisfies smile on his face.
-"Where did you even get this?' His voice seems slightly deeper now.
-"Stole it. Good shit tho." You sigh, the two of you laid out, staring up at the ceiling that seems to be warping before your very eyes.
-There's a silence but it's comfortable...until it's not, Zoro cutting through it
-'Do you think god stays in heaven cause he's scared of his creation?"
Sanji
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-You already tried to convince him this was better than any cancer stick he's put in his body but he's not one to dabble in that.
-"You can make it butter. Infuse it. Boom edibles." you suggest, passing him the ziplock back with a wiggle of your eyebrows.
-"C'mon chef boyardee, hook it up?"
-Ok so it was far more tempting than he thought and damn did he get carried away fast. Like...way too fast.
-THIS MF COOK A FULL MEAL...ALL OF IT INFUSED. Ohhh you're all fucked up. I mean REALLLY fucked up
-Zoro is knocked out, sleeping in the most uncomfortable position. I mean he's folded like a goddamn omelet with the hilt of his sword acting as a pillow.
-Luffys got his arms stretched out in one big puddle trying to untangle them
-Nami is doing circles around the ship looking at her compass needle, trying to figure out why 'Weast" isn't labeled
-And the two of you giggle away, opening and closing the fridge to try and catch the light go off and on inside.
-It's a gawd damn mess and technically your fault for giving THE CHEF A BAG OF WEED TO USE IRRESPONSIBLY
Luffy
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-He found it completely by accident and thought it was food.
-ATE THE NUG. HE. ATE. IT.
-"Well, I don't know why you keep a bag of lettuce in your room, but I was hungry so I ate it. I think it's gone bad by the way. so... you're welcome!"
-You freeze, turning got him in a way that's damn near comical.
-"YOU WHAT?!"
-Oooooh hes fucked up, it takes less than an hour for it to kick in and the whole time he's a mess of tangles, stretched-out libs, asking questions that make no sense to anyone but him.
-"If I like.....stretch my stomach can I eat more than usual or...would I have to stay stretched like that until it's digested?"
-Starts to panic just a pinch because he said his 'hands don't match'
-Que him flipping his hands back and forth for the next hour
Nami
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-Only smoked because you offered...and because she hasn't in a while
-Surprizingly knows some cool tricks.
-Opts to take her rolling tray out of its hiding place. Hooray for a new smoke buddy!
-She's actually really calm and relaxed when she smokes. can hold a normal conversation, she just seems a bit sleepy.
-Already prepared with food from the kitchen cause she knows she gets the munchies and already had an incident where she tried to cook while high anddd it backfired.
-Is also very creative. She keeps a sketchbook with pages of mandalas she drew under the influence. Unfortunately, it's only a talent she possesses when high as a kite.
Usopp
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-Scam or not the lady at the booth said it was a very nice vase for a unique kind of flower. The plan was to gift it to you with said flower but uhhh... he couldn't find it. That is until you spotted it in his room.
-"Yooo I didn't know you dabble uUo! I would've shared my stash sooner!"
-Whatchu talking bout Willis?
-"What? No no, the lady said this was a vase for a special kind of flower and- Ohhhhh."
-He pauses, giving a nod and clearing his throat.
-Did you just teach Usopp what a bong is and how to use it???
-He gets terrible munchies after and can't decide whether he wants something out the kitchen or to simply eat you up because you already a snack (oop girl hold on-)
-If hes not horned up he's paranoid. No inbetween. literally like, "They're in the walls!" paranoid or "I'm in your walls" just nastyyy
Shanks
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-Ouid you say? Zaza? The devil's lettuce? Oh, he will be partaking.
-Will fuck up the rotation. Not on purpose tho, it's just been a while since he'd done this.
-Was kinda a pothead in his youth. These days the closest he can get is a CBD ointment he uses for soreness in his back and shoulders.
-So when he catches you with quite literally the FATTEST joint he has ever seen in his life he can't help but join in.
-"There's no way you're smoking that by yourself." He chuckles, sitting crisscross beside you as you begin to pass t back and forth
-Please don't try to outsmoke him. You will lose and green out way before he does sweetie.
-Shotgunning, that's all I have to say.
-He gets kinda freakayyyy when he's high, so just expect wandering hands and some deep, passionate kisses.
Buggy
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-Oh you stole it from someone and he stole it for you because wtf? You're supposed to offer your Captain the shit you steal that totally a rule.
-You don't say anything when the bag goes missing but you do smell your precious green coming from your Captain's quarters.
-You knock, hearing a light cough, and then 'come in"
-THIS MF IS SMOKING ALL YOUR SHIT.!THE SHIT YOU WORKED HARD TO STEAL!
-"So you were gonna keep this little gem a secret from me? I'd laugh in your face right now but I feel like I'm gonna cough up a lung" He strains, very obviously holding back a series of coughs.
-He doesn't seem upset and passes the joint to you with a welcoming smile.
-Who tf else did you think Shanks would smoke with back in the day?
-For once he's not talkative, just enjoying the feeling of complete relaxation. It's like he turns his brain off for a moment. he needs it honestly.
-Is literally the BEST at rolling. Like every time it's a perfect, photo-worthy blunt.
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not-5-rats · 12 days
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Sugarboo is the kinda person to just like silently suffer whenever they're in pain
They had been lying on the couch for like an hour just silently staring at the ceiling and slowly blinking
The boys finally decided to say something
Al: Hey, Boo, you alright over there?
Seth: Yeah you've been...very quiet
Slowly SB turned their head, their eyes were bloodshot and the skin around them puffy
Seth: Sugar!? What, you okay??
Al: Ain't that sore? That looks awful
They slowly push their eyelids together
SB: It is, I'm in alot of pain, have been since I woke up...I can barely see, please get help
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anarchy-n-glitter · 1 month
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The Good, The Bad, and...
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Summary: Lucy and The Ghoul encounter a shadowy figure from his past while on their way to New Vegas. This stranger, nicknamed Red Eyes, is intent on collecting a bounty on The Ghoul as a means to settle a feud between the two after they were betrayed by him. Will Red Eyes succeed, or will they have a change of heart based on their complicated feelings toward the man? (Cooper Howard x OC/reader) Words: 2,941
A/N: I forgot to post chapter 1 of this on here sorry guys. Anyway this is low key a Star Wars AU because as a Cad Bane fan I simply could not help myself so this is technically kind of a follow up to this fic. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
From the Desert Comes a Stranger
“I’ve taken down so many of dese clones over da years…” Her father began in his heavily accented manner, sighing, and pushing his hat back with his pointer finger as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The red of his irises were somehow muted by the red lenses of the goggles he wore, which made it hard to see the look in his eyes as it was. He quickly dropped to his knees and with a single swipe of his knife he removed something from the clone’s body. She couldn’t quite make out what it was before he pocketed it.
He turned around quickly, pointing his gloved finger up at her. She straightened up.
“Now, Ciella, what ya need to know is…” He handed her the bloodied knife, closing her fingers around the hilt and holding her smaller hand in his. It was one of the only times he made a tender gesture towards her other than the odd hug here and there. 
“Once you figure out one da rest are easy.” She had to wonder what the point of all this was. 
When they arrived on the site - an old, decrepit warehouse with a caved-in roof - her father was quick to corner the clone that now lay dying before them. He tried his best to grab the gun that was strapped to his leg, fumbling with it and managing to point it in her father’s general direction before he was gunned down. Two shots in the chest from the looks of it, shots that left the man (clone) heaving and wheezing on the floor with blank eyes, and she knew that’s what he wanted to happen. If he wanted to shoot the man in the head he would have. He was the fastest shot in the Wasteland, and it would stay that way for many years. 
“Now, I want ya to take dat knife dere and,” He finally stood and moved her closer to the dying man. “Yer gonna have to cut his throat, unless ya want to hear him scream. I’m not against it but it’s best dat we keep him quiet. Don’t want any stragglers comin’ in and takin’ us by surprise.”
Ciella drew in a deep breath as she knelt down beside the man. His blank eyes suddenly held so much emotion, it was a look she’d seen in her own eyes a few times before. Mostly on dark nights in the Jewel as she listened to the way men spoke to her mother… and the way her father spoke to her at times. It was the look she saw in the mirror after she saw how her mama took care of those men - their purple, mangled faces contorted in pain and their eyes bloodshot staring up at her, and their hands clutched around their throats. 
This man was in pain, and he was afraid of dying. 
There was a large tattoo on the side of his face, around his eye. It was a symbol, most likely belonging to whatever faction he belonged to since escaping his vault. From what she overheard her dad discussing, Vault 66 seemed to be defunct, with the clones created within revolting and escaping into the Wasteland. He had been hunting down the clones for the last five years, among other things. She never quite understood why anyone would flee a vault to live on the surface. 
Her father took the respirator off of his face, letting it hang below his chin. She felt more at ease at this, happy to hear his own, unmodified voice walking her through what she was about to do. Her heart was beating fast and felt like it had leapt into her throat. She glanced at the open ceiling and focused on the large, white moon that hung in the deep blue sky. 
Perhaps the sky full of swirling stars would be enough to comfort her.
“When he’s dead, cut off da part of his face with da tattoo and hand it to da Tin-Man. Den we can go home.” He instructed. Ciella hesitated. 
The clone looked at her, stared her down, silently begging her for mercy. He was just a clone, and he was wanted so he must have done something bad, right? She looked back at her dad, who had pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, revealing his bright red eyes staring back at her expectedly. Tufts of navy blue hair peeked out from under his hat and over his goggles and his lips were curved into a small smile. 
He actually looked like a supportive father for the first time in his life.
Ciella made her decision at that moment, and the girl at only eight years old turned around and drove the knife into the clone’s throat. His eyes widened and met her gaze for a moment and she felt her heart drop. He groaned and wheezed, the blood gurgling in his throat as the crimson substance dribbled from the corners of his mouth. A sputtering cough had his blood spraying across her face and she wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. She tried not to heave at the disgusting feeling. 
On instinct, she pulled the knife from his throat and drove it back into his flesh. Over and over. A larger, warmer hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her mid motion. 
“Dere ya go.” Her father smiled wider as pride swelled in his chest. His baby would be a killer, just like he was. “After dis I’ll teach ya everyding I know.” 
☠☠☠☠☠☠☠
The sun bore down unbearably upon the duo traveling along the Mojave Desert. It had been miles and miles of desert between the Griffith Observatory and the place the Ghoul was certain Lucy’s father was heading. The vaultie was starting to fall behind, clearly tired from the constant moving. It was hard to find shelter all the way out here, and unfortunately for her the Ghoul didn’t feel comfortable stopping out in the open. 
They had traveled through a few settlements at that point, each one growing more and more decrepit and sparse. The people were quieter and hid away in their own corners of the small towns, eyeing the Ghoul and his traveling companion wearily. The whispers and glares of the different townsfolk hardly made for good hospitality, if anything it was that fact that drove him away from each place. Something was happening, someone said something, and he felt it was too risky to stop for a few nights in any of the settlements.
The last place they’d been to was a day’s walk away at this point, and the talk amongst the people in that saloon made him deeply uncomfortable. Then there was the body. 
In the sandy dunes of the last settlement they had been to laid a man with sun kissed skin and snow white hair stained at the temples with red. The poor man had his brains blown out, by who…  well, let’s just say he had a good idea of who it was. It was clear the job was done quickly, the man clearly didn’t see them coming, and the fact the man’s armor and other supplies went untouched raised even more alarm bells. He got them out of there quickly and quietly.
Unfortunately for Lucy, the Ghoul was one-track minded at the moment. His family was out there, he could feel it. There was a reason he kept going for over two hundred years, and he would not let those years of anguish be in vain. 
He would kill anyone who tried to get between them. 
“There’s gotta be somewhere we can stop, right?” Lucy sounded hoarse, tired. He wished he could answer her truthfully. He hadn’t traveled this far into the desert before, and the way the sun seemed to hang so high in the sky for so long made him question whether anyone ventured that far, let alone set up shop. He shrugged.
The dunes seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, with only a few rocky formations on the horizon. A few dried plants littered the ground here and there, somehow finding the strength to grow in such a harsh climate. It was a wonder anything was able to grow and flourish after the bombs. Maybe he should have sent the vaultie to ask for some sort of transport back at the saloon instead of being stubborn like he usually was. 
“Maybe that person’s coming from a settlement down that way?” The Ghoul froze, feeling himself go numb. 
Among the dancing heatwaves stood a dark-clad figure on the horizon. 
They stood still, any discernible features hidden by a wide-brimmed hat and respirator over the figure’s mouth. The wind blew and kicked up dust and whipped the figure’s coat to the side, revealing the large holster against their hip. Their dark attire starkly contrasted with the bright blue sky and pale sand. 
The words of the men in the saloon ran through his mind. 
Someone’s lookin’ for a ghoul just like ya! There was a bounty put out not too long ago, I think it’s been taken offa the board. A lotta caps goin’ for that guy. He considered that a warning at the time. 
Anyway, it looked like the guy who took the bounty was Red Eyes. He had the goggles an’ everything, but we all thought he was dead. 
And Red Eyes was supposed to be dead. He died around five or six years ago. 
The figure in front of him was a ghost. 
Red Eyes stopped a good twenty feet in front of them, standing perfectly still. The wind shifted again and from beneath the wide-brimmed hat came a tuft of navy blue hair that blew in the breeze. The desert was all too quiet now, and it felt like something from one of his old movies. Red Eyes felt like an old western villain, dark and ominous, seemingly a force of nature. He worried the figure wasn’t only after him. 
“Lucy, you should head back.” The Ghoul muttered, putting a hand out to stop her from moving any further. She stared at the figure for a moment, suddenly afraid because of the Ghoul’s reaction. 
“It’s only one person.” She muttered. “Maybe they’re lost?” The Ghoul stayed silent. He would not repeat himself.
Her doe-like eyes flickered to him and she noticed the way his mouth was set in a seemingly permanent frown. His whole body looked stiff, like a cornered animal. She nodded, understanding finally, before turning on her heel to make a run for it. 
The Ghoul watched as the stranger glanced in Lucy’s direction. Red Eyes observed her, seemingly studying her like an unbothered predator eyeing a nearby animal knowing it couldn’t do anything to stop it. He grit his teeth and took a few steps forward, spurs jangling with each stride. 
This was not good. 
“Now I know that fancy getup you got on is not yours.” He began through a false bravado, flashing teeth that used to be a pearly white. It was so easy for him to slip back into a role, something he had been doing this entire time. Yet, this time, he was given the chance to play the good guy. It felt unfamiliar somehow, after all, it had been several years since he’d done such a thing. He was almost grateful for this stranger’s theatrics. “Who might you be? Cause you sure as hell ain’t Red Eyes… he’s dead.” 
He knew all too well who this was. 
Red Eyes looked up, the red goggles reflecting the bright sun and making it impossible to see past their lenses. More of the stranger’s hair seemed to flow from behind them, long strands of navy waving in the wind like a flag. Their stance shifted from one of leisure to subtly looking like they would pounce. The stranger moved their coat away from their hip, revealing the large gun strapped to their form. 
“I’d be careful where I was sticking my nose if I were you.” The heavily modulated voice called out. “Or lack thereof.” 
The Ghoul bit his tongue. “I’m assuming that corpse we found back there was you, then? Certainly wasn’t the handiwork of any ol’ fiend.” 
“Wasn’t much work.” Red Eyes spat quickly. “Was a clone. They're easy. Woulda gotten in my way.” Their accent, even through the voice changer, was thick. Louisiana, most likely from the New Orleans area. 
“You’re here for me.” He didn’t feel the need to ask. He threaded his thumbs through the belt loops on his trousers, opting to seem more relaxed than he was. He knew Red Eyes would see right through his guise.
“Isn’t that obvious?” Their hand twitched beside their gun. He eyed them wearily.
“Well, I’m not goin’ willingly.” A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from the stranger. 
“I never said I was gonna take ya in alive.” They answered, voice cold with an edge to it. He fought the urge to argue, to call their bluff, for doing so would be too risky.
Truthfully, Red Eyes had every reason to want him dead. It had been a few years, five to be exact, since they last saw each other. Five long years since he turned the fellow bounty hunter in for killing a crime lord. Five years since he left them for dead. This would be a fitting end for their little rivalry, even if it wasn’t always that way. 
But he wouldn’t go down just yet. Not without a fight. 
He had to find another way to fight them. A quick draw duel would mean a death sentence for him, unfortunately. Red Eyes was and still is the quickest draw in the Wasteland. He would have to throw them off somehow, say something to really disarm them. 
He did the only thing he could think of, and instead of indulging in the stranger - instead of going for his gun - words that he never thought he would say slipped from his dry, cracked lips.
“Ciella, I’m sorry.” 
Red Eyes froze. Their hand was still dangerously close to their gun’s grip. Over the wind, he vaguely heard the sharp, uneven intake of air from the figure. The breeze picked up again, blowing open the stranger’s coat to reveal the figure of a woman. 
“It’s a bit late fer that, isn’t it, cher?” It most definitely was her. “I came ta finish the job. I shoulda known a coffin wouldn’t hold yer ass.” 
Cooper held back a laugh. Ciella Bane was an ally at one point, and maybe even a friend, but the moment her picture was up on one of those boards he knew their partnership was over. Someone was offering a hefty reward for whoever could bring the bounty brat in, preferably alive. 
That was his mistake. He knew he probably should have killed her while she was sleeping and taken the smaller reward for her corpse. Killing her like this would be a pain in the ass. 
“You wanna take off that ridiculous getup and let me see you?” He taunted, much to Ciella’s dismay. He just had to hit her where it hurt, get her emotional and in her head so she missed when she inevitably shot at him. However, it had been a few years, he couldn’t be sure that trick would still work.
Though with dear ol’ daddy not around to give her more of his tips and tricks he doubted she would have improved much more than the last time they brawled. 
Ciella scoffed. “The last thing you’ll see are these goggles. Everyone’s gotta know it was Red Eyes who took ya out, ghoul.” She spat, though there was a sadistic playfulness in her voice. Cooper rolled his eyes. 
“I got places to be, girl.” Cooper countered with equal venom. He was getting antsy, and he felt she was wasting his time. “Let us through and…” He stopped.
What would he do? What could he do? What could he possibly offer her where she wouldn’t be on his trail while he and Lucy trekked the Wasteland on a wild goose chase? Ciella coming back from whatever corner of the world she ran off to after burying him alive was the last thing he wanted. 
“Let us through and we can finish this some other time. I’ll tell you where I’ll be and you come find me.” He offered finally, feeling the weight of his words in his chest. He wouldn’t give up finding his family so she could have her petty revenge, but maybe one day, when everyone around him was gone and he knew his daughter was safe and could live a happy life, he would go to Ciella and let her put him out of his misery. 
“We do this here and now.” The bounty hunter replied. “That head o’ yers is fetchin’ a pretty penny. Figured it was better I did it than some chem addicted fiend on the street.” Her words were purposefully inflammatory. She was doing the same thing he was. 
She straightened up again, mimicking the stance of a cowboy in a western getting ready to draw, and Cooper knew what it meant. She wasn’t giving him a choice. They’d done this dance once before, and unfortunately for him it didn’t end well. 
The Ghoul sighed and moved his coat from his holster, and he mirrored her stance. “This ain’t gonna go the way ya think it will, sweetheart.”
“I doubt that.” That same, robotic voice answered, yet he knew she was still all too human underneath. 
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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year
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HELLO HELLO LIZ HOW ARE YOU??? I HOPE YOURE WELL!!
now you already know who I’m here for but in case you didn’t-
SEGGSUAL TENSION WITH SPENCER REID, MAYBE HES BACK FROM A MISSION AND GOT BEAT UP ON AND SO READER’S CLEANING HIM UP AND THE ENTIRE TIME SPENCER’S LIKE “imnotturnedonrightnow,that’dbesoweirdwtf”
USE ANY PROMPTS BUT MAYBE 9?? I THINK THAT’D FIT WELL
I LOVE YOU!! HAVE AN AMAZING EVENING!!
HI FRIEND! I'M OKAY! I GOT YOU!
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"Ya know, when I signed up to be your roommate, I did not sign up for this." I sigh, leaning against the doorframe as a broken and battered Spencer stumbles into our shared apartment, small, whiny winces escaping him with every step he takes.
"I need your help." He mutters, leaning against the counter while gripping his side, eyes finally lifting to look up at me. My frown deepens at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and I wonder if it's from his injuries or if it's truly been days since he's slept.
Both could be true.
"I am not a trained professional. You're literally a doctor, Spence." I step up to him, hands on my hips in an attempt to be intimidating but it's impossible when he's looking at me like that- pitiful and in need of help only I can offer him. In response, he gives me the best smile he can muster, reaching out to pat my arm playfully.
"Not that kind of doctor."
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I hold a hand out to him, linking my fingers with his- with zero arguments from him- before leading him away from our kitchen, watching blood drip out of the wound on his arm and onto the ground below us. "I literally keep this place going when you're gone and you have the audacity to come back and drip blood all over the floor that I just cleaned." I mutter through gritted teeth, dragging him into the bathroom with me, sending him a half-assed glare.
"You complain a lot." He hoists himself up onto the counter behind him, leaving room for me to slot myself between his parted legs.
This isn't the first time he's come home from a case all bloody and in need of patching up but this is has to be the worst I've ever seen from him.
"Again, you knew this before we moved in together." I pat his chest but it just pulls another pained groan from him and I investigate further, fingers puling at the collar of his shirt to see splotchy bruises painting his chest. "Did the other guy at least look worse than you?"
"Definitely not." He laughs, watching me dab at the cut on his forehead with furrowed brows. "Morgan won the fight for me."
"Can you take this off?" I pull at his shirt and he pauses, hands shaking at his side as I wait for his reply. Instead of responding, he just helps me lift the bloodied t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the ground behind me. I let out a sad sigh at the sight of his bruised torso, my fingers instinctively reaching out to drag against his pale skin. He watches me intently with his lip tucked between his teeth, cheeks flushed a cute red color. "Shit, should you go to the hospital?" I ask, leaning down to inspect the deep bruise right beside his belly button, wondering if it's coming from internal bleeding but he just shakes his head and waves me off.
"No, I'm good where I am." He strains, head tilting so he can stare at the ceiling and not at me, the blush that was once on his cheeks is now crawling down his neck.
"You stress me out." I giggle but realize his sudden fidgety nature, his jaw clenched as I take a step back, eyes avoiding the pretty obvious distraction inches away from me. "Really?" I ask, mirroring him, chin tilting so I can stare at the ceiling and not the sudden tent in Spencer's sweatpants.
"Please, just don't mention it-"
"I really wanna mention it." I chuckle, slapping a hand over my mouth as Spencer whines, forcing his face into his hands with a loud groan.
"You're only making this worse." He shuffles off the counter and he slips past me, brushing my hands off as I try to reach out to him but he just waddles away from me, adjusting himself as he moves towards his room.
"It's not my fault!"
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wheatnoodle · 1 year
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if gareth has to hear one more mention of stevie harrington, he’s gonna beat himself over the head with a wrench.
every day, no matter what, one of those freshmen eddie sent them to collect found a way to bring up the now graduated ex-cheer captain. aka, the biggest bitch to walk through hawkins high. the only good thing he can even remember about her is those skin tight jeans that gave a show every time she left a room.
other than that, she hung out with people like carol and tommy h (and even though carol and stevie were “best friends” and tommy was dating carol, everyone knew tommy wanted stevie), got hit on by guys like billy hargrove, and laughed at guys like him and his friends. she threw parties they were never invited to and asked dumb questions in class and was the first person that looked gareth in the eye and called him a freak.
so yeah. gareth didn’t like stevie. and neither did jeff. or grant, or eddie. she did enough when she was still in high school, she doesn’t get to take their freshmen too.
and so it’s post hellfire, the kiddies have long since packed their things and gone on their merry ways, leaving the other four sprawled in various spots in eddie’s living room, passing blunts between each other. how they got on the topic of revenge is beyond them.
“we could paintball her car,” jeff suggests from his place upside down in a recliner (not the recliner, never. that’s wayne’s). his bloodshot eyes are blank as he stares straight ahead under the coffee table.
“no, that leaves like…financial damage,” grant shakes his head, tilting it back against the couch to look at the ceiling.
“and legal damage,” eddie adds and points at finger at jeff. he’s laying on the floor in front of where gareth is sprawled on the couch face first. gareth’s got his feet up on grant’s lap and his cheek is squished against the couch cushion while he looks down at eddie.
a light seems to go off in his mind because gareth speaks for the first time since the kids left. “what about emotional damage? that what we’re lookin’ for?” he asks, his voice muffled slightly by his position.
“yeah. why, you got something?” jeff takes another drag from his blunt.
“think so. heard she’s been on like…a dry streak. can’t get dates and shit. so like, the opposite of how it was in school. could like…i dunno…” gareth doesn’t take his eyes of eddie and eddie refuses to break their gaze. “we could make her fall for eddie. like, fake woo her into spilling all her secrets. show the sheepies who she really is.”
eddie’s eyes go wide. the others are silent, though he can hear jeff sit upright in his chair. hazel searches brown for confirmation. he smirks. eddie can’t help but huff out a laugh in return.
you brilliant motherfucker.
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jen-with-a-pen · 7 months
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ALL TIED UP - ONE
Series
summary: Steve can't remember what happened lat night, but his body sure does. Regret is the worst hangover of all– even more so when you can't remember what you regret.
pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader
word count: 955
chapter warnings: vague memories, indications of trauma, bruises, insomnia, dissociation, derealization, non-sexual nud1ty, mention and description of vomiting, anxiety attack, crying
a/n: So... this happened. the original wip was a one-shot inspired by this year's Whumptober Prompt #17: COLLAR, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"; as well as Alt. Prompt #15: RELUCTANT WHUMPER. I was going to use an idea I've had for a long time, but then I wrote... and wrote... and wrote... and now we're here. I struggled deciding on an idea for this and am thinking about also writing a separate work with Bucky, but I might also maybe be planning one from the readers POV, and maybe kinda sorta joining the two together and seeing where it goes. we'll see! I hope you enjoy
The most specialest of special thanks to two of my loves @vonalyn and @lunarbuck for helping me flesh out this idea and enable me in my destruction ♥ i owe you both a beefy alpha soon
gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥
my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always ♥
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Saturday, currently.
The alarm clock on Steve Rogers’ bedside table blares louder than it usually does.
Steve is already awake, however. He’s been awake for hours, lying in bed, staring unblinking at the faded white ceiling of his frat house bedroom. His eyes are bloodshot, the corners crusted from one part insomnia and one part tears. His body aches. Every muscle, every bone, feels like he’s been beaten senseless.
He doesn’t remember when he stopped crying.
Finally, he blinks. Slowly, unevenly, inhaling deeply. He holds it for a moment, the pressure in his chest providing some semblance of feeling in the numbness throughout his body. An exhale forces its way out of his lungs once the pressure begins to burn. He wills his hand to move, dropping on top of the alarm clock and his room falls back into silence once more. His hand falls limp off the nightstand as he drags it back to his side.
In a blur of his very few– and very failed– attempts to sleep that night, Steve remembers the second time he woke with a shout halfway out his throat. The navy blue comforter had tangled up in his sprawled limbs, the sheets being an entirely different mess at the foot of the bed. He’d thrown all of the covers on his bed onto the floor around three in the morning, when he succumbed to the threat of nightmares and insomnia, forced to lie awake.  
His skin feels filthy, coated in scum and shame. Cold sweat beads on his forehead, neck, and back. His clothes– an old t-shirt he dug out of his closet and a reused pair of boxers– cling to him like a second, heavy skin. He needs to shed it, tear it off his body, claw it off until he hits bone. Everything feels suffocating as his tired brain swims with flashbacks to the night– the disaster– before. The shouts. The people. The sweat and tears. 
The sex.
The thought of the word itself– and all connotations now attached to it– is enough to send a lurch through Steve’s stomach. It comes to a rolling boil, ready to spill up and out his throat, a touch of acid burning the back of his tongue. He scrambles out of bed and sprints to the bathroom down the hall. The door flies open, lights flickering on as he slaps a free hand not covering his mouth at the light switch. He falls to his knees at the front of the toilet and heaves, instantly discarding the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He gags once, then twice, as tears stream down his face and neck. Strong hands grip the rim of the bowl like a vice, an anchor, to hold himself steady as he trembles. Curses echo off the porcelain and back up at him as he spits a final time, flushing and slumping against the cool acrylic of the bathtub. Part of him hopes he didn’t wake up the rest of the house, but another part hopes he did; he hopes that his retching reminds them, too, of what happened. 
Like they would fucking care.
Steve wipes his mouth. Clammy skin catches on his chapped lips. He groans, his heart racing, the room spinning, as he attempts to gather himself. The grimy feeling remains on his skin; his hands feel especially filthy. He inhales, shaky, and grabs onto the side of the tub. Despite his build– muscular and fit and usually capable– he struggles to stand from the floor. Once on stable feet, he shuffles to the bathroom door and pushes the button on the knob. The door locks with a soft click. He double checks by jiggling the handle. Nodding to himself, Steve turns to face the mirror, sliding off his damp t-shirt and boxers, dropping them to the floor. His hands morph into tight fists at his side, hard gaze remaining fixed on the nickel-plated faucet of the sink. Shame gnaws at him, at his insides, at his soul. 
He can’t even face his own fucking reflection. 
Half-moons cut into each of his palms, fingernails digging into flesh; it's a sorry attempt at trying to ground himself. He chews at his lip and cheek, a copper taste coating his tongue when the tissue becomes raw. Eyes shut, face screwed tightly, he pivots his head up. He forces his eyes open, his gaze instantly met with a stranger.
He doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror. There are still-red, still-raw scratches panning across a hard chest and running down the abdomen. Bruises are strewn sporadically down arms and shoulders. The occasional bite mark becomes visible when the man moves his arms, rotating them, inspecting them in the mirror. Focus shifts to the groin. Claw marks, desperate and haphazard, litter thick thighs, the strands of raw red leading up to his dick. Flaccid. Still sensitive. The body mimicking Steve’s gestures doesn’t seem real. It isn’t him. This shitty replica, beaten and bruised– it isn’t him. 
Finally, his gaze shifts to the face.
Steve’s mouth dries up immediately, the lump in his throat growing bigger, thicker. Swallowing quickly becomes impossible. All blood drains from his face. His limbs lose feeling. He doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t remember– he cannot fucking remember.
Surrounding Steve’s right eye, swimming in sickly colors in the tender flesh of his cheek and temple, lies a blackened, bruised eye. Purples and blues and greens are painted around his swelling lid; the skin is still tender and throbbing. He brings his hand to his face and traces the wound delicately, as if he’ll further mar the skin on his own body. He flinches at the lightest touch against it. 
It hurts as he starts to cry.
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"Maybe Someday"
C/W: suicidal thoughts, just bad thoughts thinking you aren't good enough and stuff like that. Angst :)
A/N: The green text is the boys [it doesn't matter which one you pick :)] speaking, Orange text is you or the reader speaking.
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Laying down in bed staring at the ceiling while music is playing softly in the background trying to lull yourself to sleep. Your body is so so tired, but your mind? so full of energy and terrible thoughts. No matter how many times you try to redirect your thoughts towards the positive it just gets overshadowed by the negative.
Are you good enough? If you were then you wouldn't be crying in a dark room
Are you even trying to do it right? Can you do anything right? Apparently not
Suicidal thoughts are coming to the front of your mind. Would anyone miss you? You don't make a difference to anyone's life why would they miss you?
The bedroom door opens allowing some light to come flooding into the room even if only for a few brief moments before closing again. Your boyfriend walks in rubbing his eyes "Sorry it took me so long I thought the game would have ended a while ago" He slowly walks up towards the bed as you scramble to wipe your tears and calm down.
Upon hearing your sniffles he stops rubbing his eyes and rushes to your side softly cupping your face "Hey what happened? what's wrong?" concern evident in his voice. He leans over and turns on the lamp on the nightstand. All he sees is the bloodshot, puffy eyes of his sweet angel. You try to blink away the tears that are threatening to fall from your lash line.
"I-i've been h-having a rough night"
"I'm sorry I didn't come to bed sooner why didn't you tell me you were feeling like this?"
"I d-didn't want to bother you I-i thought I could deal with this by myself like I always do"
He shakes his head and sighs "Come here" He opens his arms and you immediately crash into him causing you both to fall down into the bed.
He rubs your back and says "I know you think you need to do this alone...To suffer in silence but I want you to know you can come to me when you feel like this you are not a burden to me or anyone. Sometimes we just need a little reminder of that. It's ok to not be ok."
He continues to rub your back while you bury your head into his neck and cry a little more eventually calming down.
"Hey Hun? You think I'll be ok?"
"I think so my love...Maybe Someday"
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