#and glass shards kept falling out of the front and back

[moths-in-a-coat]

got the iphone 16 for Christmas because, unfortunately, my old iphone decided to all but explode, ie the battery would die in three hours without use and kept getting suspiciously hot. it was only like 4-3 years old, but it could have degraded so fast because i ran it over twice. with a jeep. so maybe that’s why it decided to all but commit suicide. but really, who can actually tell

[mari-positas]

softness

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?”

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born. 

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales. 

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate. 

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 21

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: With nowhere else to go, you seek refuge in the apartment you shared with Bucky.

Warnings: Angst. Gunshot Wounds. Blood. Needles. Stitches. Mentions of weapons.

Authors Note: Please comment, I love interacting with you guys! Be kind! ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Glass shattered around your bruised elbow. Shards crunched under your stained tennis shoes.

 Your body gave way beneath you as you collapsed onto the mattress. Your chest tightened as you laid there, staring at the ceiling, your eyes wide and unblinking. The weight of what's happened settled over you like a thick fog.

You’d spent days moving, running and hiding, but now in the familiar walls of your previously shared apartment, you just felt weak. 

A choked sob broke the silence of the room, the feelings welling in your chest and tearing through you. You pressed trembling hands to your steadily bleeding wounds, hopelessness wracking your body. 

It was all over. 

You’d fought so hard, and for so long. You thought that one day you would actually make it home. That you and Bucky would get to taste freedom, together or apart, it didn’t matter. You just wanted to be free. You wanted to live without fear. 

Your world had been destroyed, picked apart and burned by selfish men with a selfish agenda. The world you’d spent your whole life building. But it didn’t matter. They plucked you out of society and kept you for their own.

 And here you were, dying, with nothing to your name. 

Cold tears slid down your heated face as you wept silently, the mattress beneath you growing wet with your blood. All you could feel was the rawness of your fear, your desperate want to survive. 

Everything ached and burned, everything hurt. 

But it was all over. 

The front door creaked open, then clicked shut almost silently. You heard a sharp intake of breath. Your whole body went rigid, your breath left your chest. 

You feared they found you, and were there to finish the job. 

But then you saw him, and all you could do was sob.

Through teary eyes, he looked the same. Only two weeks had passed, but you’d started to forget his face. But that furrowed brow and soft frown were so familiar to you now. 

And those aching blue eyes, those could never leave you.

“Shit,” Bucky whispered, falling to his knees beside you. He yanked off his backpack and dug out his first aid kit. “Where are you hit?” He asked immediately, not breaking to question you on where you’d been or what had happened. He just needed to stop the bleeding. 

And god, there was so much blood.

You could barely form words around whimpers of pain and tears of relief. “Hey, hey,” his voice dropped, softer, as he leaned over you. “Stay with me, okay? I need you to focus.”

You nodded, swallowing around your panicked breaths. “H-Here,” you pulled your hand back from your gushing thigh. 

He nodded, unbuttoning your pants. “Okay, where else?” He asked calmly as he removed your pants. You groaned as the fabric was pulled over your wounded leg. 

“Here,” you panted, keeping a firm hand pressed to your right side, just above your hip. “Through and through.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Keep pressure on it. I need to get the bullet out of your thigh,” he said, feeling beneath your leg for an exit wound. 

You blinked up at him, fear prickling your skin. “Oh god,” you wept, terrified of what that meant. 

“Look at me, Y/n, I need you to stay calm.” He sifted through his kit, pulling a knife from his bag. 

“Oh my god,” he was going to cut into you- you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t.

“Y/n, please,” looking at him now, you could see his panic. He was great at keeping it together when needed, but it was there. Something beneath the mask of calm. Something beneath the steady layer of his voice.

You licked the tears from your lips and nodded. “Okay,” you whimpered. 

He nodded, ripping a lamp cord from the wall. He tied it firmly around your upper leg. “You need to stay as still as possible, okay?” He steadied you with a serious look as he unbuckled his belt. You nodded, biting back tears as he tugged his belt free of his pants. He folded up his belt and held it up to your mouth. “Bite down on this,” he slotted it between your teeth.

All the preparation and soothing comforts couldn’t prepare you for the feeling of his knife sliding into your wound. You screamed, your teeth clenching around the belt. His knife glided along the wound, opening it further. 

“I’m sorry- It’s okay, you’re okay,” he muttered, picking out tweezers. You cried out, your hands pressing and clawing at your face as he dug into the wound. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft, heavy with guilt as he dug further and further in search of the bullet. He used his metal hand to hold your bloody leg steady, fingers pressed into your flesh. You couldn’t focus on the soft shame in his voice as you writhed in pain. 

He felt sick, his body weighted by the mixture of darkness swirling in his veins.

He never wanted to hurt you. He never wanted to hear your cries, hear your whimper in defeat. 

He never wanted to have your blood stain his skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he pressed further, feeling the tweezers tap something hard. 

Your mind had sunken into a limbo of pain, your body seizing up, then writhing fitfully in agony. “Fuck-” you sobbed, panting around the leather between your teeth. 

“Almost done, I’m almost done… You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” he tried to comfort you, but it was no use. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Bucky pulled the bullet from your leg. “There we go.”

You sobbed in relief as you heard it clink against the floor. Bucky began surveying the wound as he laced up a needle. You felt like you were blinking in and out of reality as he closed up the wound. You didn’t know- or even care, at that point- what he was doing down there. You just wanted the pain to end. 

After he tied the final knot, he tore up your old pants and wrapped them tightly around your wound. “You did great- Y/n, you with me?” 

You blinked up at him, heaving around the belt clenched between your teeth. His bloody hands warmly cupped your face, shaking you awake. You moaned softly around the leather, acknowledging him. 

“Almost done, okay? Lemme see your side.” He encouraged, moving around the bed to your side. You shakily lifted your shirt, exposing your oozing wound. Thankfully, this wound would be much easier. There was nothing to recover. So he laced up his needle, and began stitching you shut. 

You sobbed shakily into your hand, your other gripping his shoulder tightly. Your nails dug into the soft skin by his steel shoulder, but he barely blinked. When he finally finished up, he pressed the left over torn pieces of your pants to your wound. 

“All done, okay? You’re all done.” He sighed, his bloody hands trembling in his lap. You stared up at him, dazed. 

He assumed you’d lost enough blood to be nearing unconsciousness. “Y/n,” he called to you, brushing your hair back from your sweaty face. He gently gripped his folded belt, prying it from your clenched teeth. A string of saliva connected it to your lips as you panted. He wiped your mouth with the back of his hand.

“Y/n,” he called again.

“You-” you whispered, your voice raw and weak. “You said you’d go- go somewhere I don’t know.” You wept.

He huffed, shaking his head. “I know, I did.” He stroked your hair. “But I’ve been watching this place, just in case- and I saw blood on the window cill.”

You closed your eyes, nodding softly.

“Keep your eyes open, okay? You can’t fall asleep.”

“They’ll have heard…” you whispered, blinking up at him. “They’ll come.”

“I know…” he whispered. “But you can’t move.”

“I…” you sucked in a pained breath, shuddering in burning agony. “I can be moved.”

He stared at you for a moment, his jaw set in thought. “Are you sure?”

“We have to.”

He nodded, already packing up his bag. You watched as he moved around you, sliding his arms beneath your body. “Not the shoulder, right?” You grunted as he lifted you.

“Not the shoulder,” he assured you, settling you in his arms as he stood. 

“Oh good,” you whispered, your head lolling to his chest. 

The next time you woke, you were alone. You could barely move. Your entire body felt exhausted from your time on the run. Your thigh burned, your skin pulled tight by the stitches. The pain was hot and throbbing, but dull enough to handle.

 You didn’t recognise your surroundings. Just a shabby old apartments with covered windows. Nothing new, yet nothing the same. 

When you tossed your blanket aside, you found yourself only in your underwear, your skin wiped clean of blood. You saw a bowl and a rag on the floor beside the mattress. You assumed Bucky must have wiped you down once he got you settled. 

Your thigh and waist were wrapped in white bandages, neat and clean. You wondered how long you’d been out for him to clean you up and redo your bandages. 

You wondered where he had gone, and how long he’d been away.

You shivered and reached for his nearby bag. Inside was his med kit, a few cans of food, a journal, and a few spare articles of clothing. Once you found what you were looking for, you pulled the red henley out and over your head.

The small movement alone made you wince, you stitches sore from you stretching your arms over your head. You groaned as you fell back against the bed. Your body ached as waves of rippling, burning pain followed.

The front door creaked as it opened. 

Bucky entered the studio, his cap hiding his face as he turned to lock the door. When he finally saw you, his eyes widened. “Hi.”

“Hi…” you croaked. 

He filled a cup with water in the kitchen, then made his way to you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I was shot.” you huffed, wincing as he helped you sit up a bit to drink. “Twice.”

“Well, that’s to be expected.” He muttered, setting the glass down. 

“Where did you go?” You asked, glancing at the bag behind him. 

“I was working- I’ve been helping run deliveries for a butcher shop around the corner. They give me spare meat, sometimes.” He nodded at the bag.

You nodded, resting your head back against the pillow. Bucky slid the old bowl and rag aside to make room for himself beside the bed. As he dipped his head, his long hair fell into his face. You couldn’t help but stare at him, at the angle of his nose, the flutter of his eye lashes. 

The pair of you had spent every second of the last few months together, only to suddenly separate for weeks. It felt weird seeing him so close now. 

You had started to think you would never see him again.

“Y/n,” he called to you, making sure you didn’t fall back asleep. “What happened?”

You sighed, disappointment twisting in your gut. “I tried to make it to the farm house, but I just couldn’t lose them.” You wiped a hand down your face. “And I tried, I mean I really tried. But I got lost in the city and they were everywhere. I think they were just waiting for me to lead them to you. At some point they stopped trying to pick me up, and just started following me from afar.”

“You should have tried to find me.”

You rolled your eyes at the man. “That’s what they wanted, Bucky. They would have ambushed you. Plus, I didn’t know how.”

“Still, I thought you were dead.” He glared softly at you.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I just had no way to contact you- we really need to find something to work around that, in the future.”

“We will.” He nodded, absently pulling the blanket back over your bare legs as you spoke.

“But after I realized what they were doing, I just tried to lay low. I was staying in a few different places- squatting honestly- but eventually I think they got tired of waiting. They tried to catch me off guard in the market, again.”

He nodded, listening closely as he started examining your leg wound. 

“You’d be proud if you saw it, I had to jump across fire escapes-” you almost laughed, thinking what you’d say to yourself from two years ago, before all of this. “They got my leg on the fire escape- and I don’t actually know when I was hit in the side. I think it was the adrenaline rush, but I barely felt it.”

You watched as he reapplied the bandages, his touch soft and careful against your skin. “I waited at the farm house for a few days. I left after that- I thought they had you.” He muttered, his voice quiet. 

“I’m sorry, Buck.” You knew you had a confusing relationship, but you still never wanted to hurt him. Or abandon him. Though it seemed that one day it would be inevitable.

“I think radios would be good, in case this happens again. We can store them in specific locations in the city, or something.” He went on, moving around you to check your side. He didn’t comment on the fact that you’d found and donned the red henley, as he pulled it up. “So we can get in contact if we need to.”

“Walkie-talkies,” you nodded, grunting as you shifted for him to get a look at your wounds. “That’s a good idea. I do wish-” you bit back a whine as he peeled off the gauze from a part of the wound they’d dried to. “I wish we could just get phones. I miss my phone so much. You can play games on them, and everything, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” He absently responded. 

“Mhm, you can play games and watch movies on them. We need to watch movies, Bucky. You need to learn about the modern world.” You rambled, squeezing your eyes shut against the sting in your flesh.

“I thought you were teaching me, already.”

“Yeah, but only about important stuff, like historical events. I need to teach you about pop culture. The things that really matter.”

He huffed, shaking his head at you. “I’ll get you a white board. You can make me a lesson plan.” He pulled your shirt back down, finished with changing your bandages. “You hungry?”

“God, yes. I’ve been living off of canned peas and granola bars.”

He chuckled quietly as he picked the bag of meat up off the counter when he moved to the kitchen. “I’ll make the steaks.”

“Steaks? They pay you well for those deliveries, huh?” It shocked you just how easily you both fell into that familiar space. Into each other's worlds.

“I get the job done.”

“Oh, I know.”

A/N: Ouch! But yayyy Bucky!!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 5

Part 5 of this Poly!141 x fat!reader tw: blood, medical shtuff, hints at spicy time

The loud noise of the three men essentially falling through the door startled you into dropping the glass, gasping when the shards splinter over the tile. Ghost immediately bent to start cleaning it up, picking up the larger pieces first with his scarred fingers. It made you swallow and bend as well, narrowly avoiding smacking your own head into his.

"Sorry to startle ya, lass. We were discussing the game and it got a little heated," you hear Johnny call from the living room where the other two have taken over the seats available. John immediately drops into the oversized armchair and Kyle lays across the loveseat opposite him. Johnny planted himself in the corner of the couch, leaning back and spreading out like he was right at home.

You and Ghost get the bulk of the broken glass cleaned up, depositing the pieces into a cereal box atop the trash. When you glanced at the oversized brute, you noted the red staining his fingers. "Ghost! You cut yourself!" You frowned and grabbed his wrist dragging him into the hall and then the bathroom.

He glanced over his shoulder at the other three and rolled his eyes at the thumbs up he got from Johnny and the knowing smirks from Kyle and John.

You sat the man on the toilet, where, even though he was sitting, his head now only sat a few inches above your own. With a frown, you kneeled on the tile of the bathroom, the top half of your torso disappearing into the cabinet while you looked for your first aid kit.

Ghost couldn't keep his eyes from the way your ass wiggled around in the tight jeans adorning your lower half and he flexed his good hand as he fought the urge to dig his fingers into the fat of your hips.

"Aha!" you exclaimed from under the sink, reappearing before him with a handful of gauze and tape for his hand. Carefully standing up, you moved over to stand between his legs, your focus solely on cleaning and bandaging him up. Biting your lip, you concentrated as you cleaned the wound with a wet paper towel, gentle and patient as you slipped the glass from his palm. 

If you’d expected any reaction from pulling out the glass, you didn’t get it. Ghost was too busy watching your face as you worried over his hand, eyes flicking between your own that were focused on his hand and the plump bottom lip you had caught between your teeth. 

He couldn’t ignore the sting of the alcohol as you poured it over the wound and his hand shot out to grip your hip, fingers sinking into the plush flesh there. You winced at his grip, trying to avoid the rush of arousal it sent between your thighs, but otherwise, you just kept apologizing and letting him know it was almost over. You were sure he knew this, based on the amount of scars, but you couldn’t help but to try and soothe him. 

Once the wound was clean, you took the gauze and carefully began wrapping his hand, wondering how he’d not even noticed the injury in the first place. (He had, but figured he could hide it and get it cleaned up later. Stupid really.) 

“And done,” you announced, smiling happily at your work before your eyes lifted to meet Ghost’s dark pits. “F-feel okay?” you asked, suddenly stammering as he held your gaze. He grunted in response with the tiniest nod and stood from the porcelain, crowding you against the wall with his large frame. 

“Ghost?” Your voice cracked, looking up at him with a mix of fear, intrigue, and arousal. You heard laughter and your TV running from the living room, but your focus remained on the behemoth of a man in front of you. 

He leaned the arm with the bad hand on the wall over your head, easy to do with his height and your shortness. Your back pressed to the wall and you’re not sure if you want out of the situation or not. Your thighs squeeze together and his eyes flick down where he watches the jeans grow somehow tighter around your thick thighs before raising them back to meet yours. 

His pupils are almost completely blown out and you’re sure yours match. Tentatively, you bring your hand out to lay against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie and begin pulling him towards you when there’s three distinct raps on the door. 

“You two alive in there?”

They really just keep getting cockblocked don't they? Oops.

<- Part 4 Part 6 ->

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1554

Finale I - part 2/3 (Agatha X Reader ending):

You did not fear death. At least not anymore.

Agatha was clearly hesitating, You were the one person she could not lose. But she could not give herself up either.

It annoyed her how you were not letting Billy take the fall for all of you. It was that simple, and yes, it was cruel, but this was life.

You would learn to live with it.

Billy looked at you, and he knew you were serious. Yet he could not let you do this. You were the last person to deserve such fate.

And so, he directed his attention on Agatha as he tried hard; a part of him hoping the Road and even this final battle was enough to truly help him connect with her.

He looked at her and eventually managed to connect with her telepathically. He finally managed to bypass any barriers and mental walls she had raised, a result of her magic and training across the centuries.

'Agatha', he called in her mind. The purple witch did an excellent job at hising her surprise, not expecting to hear anyone in her mind; let alone him. 'Is this what happened to Nicky?' He dared to ask.

His question hit Agatha harder than any of Rio's attacks. She knew this was not what happened to their son, and yet, she could not help but feel this... guilt and pain.

Nicky wouldn't want her to sacrifice one more soul to Rio, and he sure wouldn't want you to stay behind or take the fall for everyone.

He always had a soft spot for you.

As Agatha looked at the serious you with the glass shard still in your hands, she made a decision... one, she most likely won't live to regret it.

With silent steps, Agatha started to walk towards her former lover and spread her arms, inviting her into her embrace.

Rio took notice, and yet she did not fight this subconscious need to be in Agatha's arms. She did not expect her lover to hold her face gently and then initiate a kiss; even though she was almost always the one to do so.

Billy stared in surprise, not expecting such a move. All he could do was stare, his mind taking a little longer to realize Agatha's true plan.

You didn't, though, and once you spotted the faint, green veins on Agatha's cheeks; you knew what she was doing.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise, disbelief following after along with fear; as your body and heart processed the intense emotions caused by that kiss...

Or better say, Agatha's reckless and selfless plan.

"No," you exclaimed weakly and stopped putting your magic into healing your wound.

You stared as faint green veins spread across Agatha's cheek, Rio's magic entering her body. Black magic flared in response and started to wrap around the two lovers as Agatha's skin started to turn paler and paler.

Rio understood it too, but she could not stop, her magic already affecting Agatha. She kept the kiss, a single tear trailing down her cheek as she realized what Agatha was doing and how she had chosen to end this all... her noble sacrifice.

Rio couldn't stop, but you could, or so your subconscious thought.

For the second the two lovers parted lips, your scream echoed across the backyard as your white magic went out of control. Forming a bright white wave, it expanded circulalry all around you; tossing Billy back but also Rio.

Agatha had already started to levitate, black magic tendrils sucking her life away but quickly disappeared as the force of your white magic obliterated them.

You sprinted on your feet, running on Agatha's body that was now laying on the grass; skin turning paler as time was almost up.

You knelt and placed her head on your lap, both hands holding her cheeks as your white magic glowed and tried to help save your lover.

"It's no use." Rio said as she recovered from your outburst, looking with a saddened look at the sight in front of her. "She took my power. She will die."

This was not how she wanted Agatha to go, and if Rio could do something about it, she would. But the damage had already been done, and it could not be reversed.

Not by her.

You did not even look at Rio, your eyesight blurry from all the tears you failed to hold back as you kept trying to save Agatha; but your magic only seemed slowing down her death... not stopping it.

"I was created to stop her," your bottom lip trembled as you fought back a sob. "Yet I chose to join her... If this means I can save her and if I fail and die... then Agatha and I can be together."

With one last try, with one last spark of hope within; you bent down and kissed Agatha. Your eyes closed as you focused on the kiss, the familiar sensation of her lips against yours fueling the pain in your heart, but you kept going.

Your magic entered her body through the kiss, its powerful energy quickly meeting Rio's darker one; the two forces fighting but ultimately... yours was slowly purifying the toxic for Agatha magic that your lover had willingly absorbed.

Your hands and your body glowed with magic, it's shine so bright that could be seen from the curious humans neighbours that stood in their yards; having noticed the changing sky but having no clue what was taking place.

Usually, your pure magic would harm Agatha; whose dark magic had formed and stained her body even though Wanda drained her. But now, your magic was busy fighting something else, and while winning; it was weakening.

At last, the white glow started to die as an ethereal wave of white magic was flowing gently around you; a semi transparent dom that kept you and your lover within.

And as that magic was fading away, Billy and Rio could see the result of your actions.

You gently pulled back, feeling drained and exhausted; as if you had been fighting for your life for days, little to no energy left to sustain you.

Yet it was all worth it as you looked at Agatha, her hair now a pure white; a side effect of your power. But the colour had returned to her cheeks, her blue eyes glowing with life.

You could not help but smile weakly as you watched her and she watched you. Her hand moved, fingers caressing your cheek in a sweet way, and you leaned on them.

You tried to stand up slowly to give Agatha space and also join you. Your knees felt weak, and as you tried to take a step back, your body gave up on you.

You stared to fall to the side; too weak to remain standing.

Rio was quick to catch you, gently supiering your body with hers; arms protectively holding you, preventing you from slipping off her embrace.

Agatha weakly managed to slowly push her body up; still trying to recover from almost dying and also the remnants of your magic residing within her.

"Leave her alone, Rio," she said weakly, worrying for your well-being after pulling such a stant.

Rio glanced at Agatha but was more focused on you, your breathing silent and your eyes fighting to stay open.

"You stupid girl, giving your gift away like that," she told you.

You smiled weakly, feeling proud that you did and having no regrets.

"And I will keep doing it until you let us all go," you replied weakly, stubborn as ever.

Rio glanced at the new moon above and then at you before leaving out a heavy sigh.

"You are lucky your soul is not mine to reap, babygirl." she pecked your forehead and helped you remain steady on your legs.

Billy, at the same time, helped Agatha to stand; looking with confusion at Rio.

The green witch kept her arm around your waist, unsure if you could stand on your own yet. She looked at Agatha. "One life, no more cheating death," she then looked at Billy. "No more body jumping. When the time comes, no fighting"

Perhaps this was not what the rules said... but not everything was set in stone. Exceptions could be made, at least partially; little loopholes in the grand plan

Rio did it before, and from the looks of it, she had to do it again. She would never admit it, but deep down, she did not truly mind.

You and Agatha muttered too much to lose you so early, especially when, from the looks of it; relationships might have been mended, at least partially.

Billy and Agatha nodded, not wanting to chase their luck further or risk one of you dying for good this time.

Of course, Billy, being the curious boy he was; had to ask one more thing.

"Rio," he called her, trying not to feel intimidated by her sharp look. "I... " he cleared his throat. "What did you mean with what you said? About not being able to take Y/N's soul?"

Lady Death smirked faintly, her fingers gently caressing your cheek. "She is a blessed child. I can't reap her until it is said," she replied vaguely, leaving Billy more confused than before.

Finale I - part 3/3

[A/N] - Finale 2 part 1 will be published the day after, focusing on a better and smuttier ending for Rio, Reader, and Agatha as a triple pair.

[hidden-snow]

✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 Ｒｕｎｎｉｎｇ Ｈｏｍｅ ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦

Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.

Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak

Word count // 1,694

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

You know the soul-shattering feeling of your heart physically breaking?

That’s what was happening at this very moment. Acid tears, so hot that you’re convinced that your face is melting off, slid down your cheeks in rivers and burned your eyes as they spilled out. Your ears are ringing so loud and high-pitched, you can’t really even hear his words.

You’re pretty sure you’re pleading for him to stay by the fact that your lips are moving. His face pinches slightly in guilt as he listens to your pleas, though you know, as he squeezes your hands, your words are falling upon deaf ears. You grip his hands tightly to keep him here, with you, just a little bit longer, trying to make this moment stretch out as much as you could make it.

All you know is that your heart is breaking rapidly, you’re a sobbing, sweating, shaking mess in front of your yawne, and there’s a rapidly growing lump in the back of your throat that you can’t seem to swallow down, no matter how hard you try.

He looks at you quietly, searching your face, before squeezing your hands once more, gently. He leans down, lips to your ears, and he whispers out a quick “I’m sorry” before pulling out of your grasp.

And then, he was gone, leaving you to pick up the shattered, splintered shards of your glass heart all alone.

»»——⍟——««

That was three years ago. Three years ago, you were left to learn how to live a life without Neteyam to light your path and your world. Three years to find a new center of gravity for your world to revolve around. And you did.

You threw yourself into your training, working hard to become the best hunter and warrior the Omaticaya had ever seen. It kept your mind busy and  your heart intact.

The clan expected you to move on from the unexpected incident that would forever leave you wondering what you could’ve done wrong, but you hadn’t.

Not yet.

Three years and the pain of his betrayal was still just as raw and bitter as the day he’d chosen to leave you behind. You used to dream of him, dream of the moments you’d had with him. Over time, they’d turned to nightmares of him never coming back, leaving you to grow old by yourself. After that, your nightmares worsened, showing your worst fears to you at night; Neteyam coming back different. Different appearance, different personality, different everything. Those ones always left you curled up in a fetal position, sobbing into your hands in the morning.

At first, men tried to sway your stone cold heart, convinced that they had a chance with you now that the olo’eyktan’s son and your best friend was gone. Eventually, though, the attempts slowed, trickling down to a dry riverbed of looks and whispers pointed your way.

You watched as people your age, the people who grew up alongside you, settled down and began to have families of their own. That life looked nice, peaceful and comfortable, but it wasn’t the life for you.

Your parents tried to talk to you, to find a suitable mate that could mend your heart in ways that only Neteyam could. There were times you’d lay awake at night, listening to their hushed whispers as they tried to figure out a way to help you move on from your tragic breakup.

It was a pity they didn’t have any other children to provide them the grandchildren they longed for.

And then, in a blaze of glory and fancy, excitement-filled celebrations, he was back. After three years, he was back.

Taller, with broad shoulders and a grin that could melt hearts, Neteyam looked different and familiar all at the same time. Tattoos covered one side of chest and his shoulder as well as some of his face. His hair was the same, thin small braids, but some of the braids were pulled back into a bun at the back of his skull.

The moment he’d seen you, he tried to approach and you’d fled, unable to face the one person who could destroy everything you’d built in his absence.

You’d found a place that was private, safe from the eyes as well as the ears of others, offering you the safety to shed the tears that had been burning at the corners of your eyes.

You couldn’t help the burning suspicion that the village had planned this, that they had known he was coming back and they’d purposefully hid this revelation from you. As if they were expecting you to be wooed off your feet if you’d been taken by surprise. Their own planned romantic story.

It was a turmoil of emotions to try and process and, in order to address your emotions, you did the one thing that usually helped you focus and calm down; hunting.

By the time you got back to the path leading towards the village, the sun had already set in the sky, night taking over the forest, bioluminescent flora and fauna lighting your path as you walked.

You couldn’t help but slow your steady pace, despite the heavy yerik resting over your shoulders, as you marveled at the beauty of your home. Neon blues, greens, purples, and pinks glowed all around you, surrounding you, and it further built up the peace that had settled in your mind.

“You look beautiful right now, Y/n. I’d forgotten how perfect you looked when you were at peace.”

At the sound of the masculine voice, you spin around, dropping the yerik in the process in order to swap it out for the blade that sat at your waist.

Your eyes meet gentle, adoring golden eyes, and a smile pulls at his perfect lips. Despite the smile, the raise of his non-existent eyebrow pulls at his face, making him look more questioning than anything.

“What do you want, Neteyam?” you ask, trying to force yourself to be civil. Just because he broke your heart into a million tiny places, trampling on it and spitting on it by leaving you, it didn’t mean your parents hadn’t raised you to be polite.

Even to assholes like him.

“Mawey yawne,” he hums softly, moving closer, and you instinctively step back, keeping the same amount of space between him and yourself. Your hand continued to grip the handle of your knife tightly, prepared to stab and run if you needed to.

A perplexed expression crosses his face and, for just a split second, his smile dropped into a curious look.

“I am not your yawne. You lost that nickname when you left me,” you spat back at him and he let out a long sigh, deep and tired, as if he was dealing with a fussy, stubborn child, rather than a fellow adult.

You cross your arms, tapping your foot slightly. You have no patience for him. When, once before, you’d enjoy dancing around topics, swapping playful banter and loving nicknames, you just want to be left alone now.

“Alright. What would you prefer I call you, if not yawne?”

“Just address me as you have. My name is perfectly fine for the likes of you. Now, why do you harass me? It’s not like you cared much before.”

He turns his head away, looking towards the village, before meeting your eyes again.

“I didn’t see you at supper. I got worried, so I came to wait for your return.”

“How thoughtful,” you bit back, gathering up your yerik. When he moved to help, you slap his hands away and shove past him to continue up the trail towards home.

How ironic that he worried about your safety now, considering how little he cared before. It was almost as if Eywa had a twisted sense of humor, putting him in situations that mirrored the one before and guiding him to react in a different way. As if trying to make your dreams come back to life.

This time, though, you weren’t going to fall for the act. After all, it was just an act. Nothing more and nothing less. You hadn’t meant enough to him then. You certainly mean nothing to him now.

»»——⍟——««

He hadn’t meant to scare you off. Watching you disappear along the path with your game slung over your shoulders, his gaze traveled down your spine, towards your rounded ass that bounced with step in your elegant stride.

A lot had changed, he realized, with you. Three years had not only seen you out of your awkwardly adorable childhood and into the elegance of a fully blossomed woman, but also had seen the change of your personality.

Whereas before, you’d been sweet, bouncy, and optimistic, you now carried yourself with a calmness that spoke of just how proud you were of yourself. Nothing could throw you off, nor could it stop you from being so damn independent. Had it really changed you that much when he’d chosen to go with his family to the reef people?

Where had that sweet girl gone?

Poking his tongue out, he licked at his lips before following after you, keeping enough distance between you and himself that you wouldn’t realize he was following you. Try as he might, he could never forget you and, convinced that you would immediately allow him to sweep you off of your feet, he’d come back.

Was he obsessed with you?

Definitely.

Had he always been obsessed with you? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he had been.

There was never a day that he didn’t think about you, about the way you looked up at him with such large, adoring eyes. The way your voice seemed to float like the clouds, soft like a song just waiting to be sung.

Before, you were smaller, just hitting puberty, with a thin waist and small frame. Now, you were a full fledged woman, curves in all the right places, with thick black hair that tumbled down your back and over your shoulders in curly waves.

You were beautiful then and now. And he was never going to let you go again.

[palevcr]

hi!! i love your bots. they’re sooo good.

can you make another Rafe Cameron bot? like, where he’s too clingy (and a crybaby) after a fight with his father.

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

he was unraveling. every time he looked at her, it hit him—the calm in her eyes, the way she held space for him like he wasn’t broken beyond repair. like he could fall apart and still be wanted. still be loved. she didn’t flinch when he showed up bleeding and shaking, didn’t question why he couldn’t breathe until she touched him. and maybe that’s why he kept coming back. maybe that’s why he collapsed into her like she was air. he hated how much he needed her. but he needed her more than anything. and that terrified him. rafe wanted to disappear. instead, he crawled under her skin and begged her not to let go.

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, emotional angst, canon divergence, post-fight aftermath

bot version :: RAFE CAMERON - pretty when you cry

tw: MDNI 18+ ??(I guess?), emotional trauma, father/son conflict, heavy angst, raw breakdowns, dependency, toxic family dynamics, suggestive emotional intimacy, vulnerability, codependency, mental health themes

Rafe’s knuckles still stung.

He wasn’t sure if it was from slamming the door, punching the wall, or throwing the glass that had exploded against the kitchen cabinets—maybe all three. Shards had scattered like a miniature storm, some embedding themselves into the drywall, others catching the light like tiny, mocking stars.

His chest heaved as he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, staring blankly at the mess he’d made. Again. The kitchen smelled like sweat, rage, and cheap whiskey—the only thing Ward ever offered when the truth got too heavy to handle.

Everything after the argument was always a blur. His dad’s voice, sharp and venomous, still rang in his ears.

"You’re not a man, Rafe. You’re a disappointment. Just like always."

The words had hit harder than any fist could. Harder than Ward’s occasional shove or that cold stare that sliced through him like broken glass. Rafe didn’t even remember what he’d said to provoke it. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe anything he said would have led there eventually.

Because with Ward, it always did.

The worst part? Rafe still wanted to please him. Still craved that look of approval like a drug he couldn’t quit. He could be screaming, fists red and raw, heart cracking in his chest—and still, a piece of him would be waiting for Ward to finally say something different. I’m proud of you, son. You did good, Rafe. I see you.

But it never came.

It never would.

Instead, there was always silence. Or worse—dismissal. That cold, methodical way Ward turned his back, as if Rafe was just another broken investment, a liability too damaged to deal with.

Rafe stumbled backward, his legs giving out for a second. He leaned against the counter, breathing hard, blood roaring in his ears. The edge of the granite bit into his spine, grounding him for a moment. He stared at his reflection in the window—distorted by darkness and the reflection of the kitchen lights. His face looked twisted. Alien. Red-rimmed eyes, teeth clenched, muscles tense beneath sweat-slicked skin.

Who even was he anymore?

He wasn’t the golden boy everyone once expected him to be. Not the heir Ward could proudly parade around Figure Eight. Not the charming, untouchable Cameron son. He’d torched that image years ago—one pill, one punch, one lie at a time.

And still… still, he wanted to be seen. Not the chaos. Not the damage. Just him.

That’s when his body moved on instinct. His feet carried him out of the house, down the long Cameron driveway, past the manicured hedges and the front gate that never kept anything out—not pain, not truth, not him.

He drove fast. Too fast. The world outside the windshield was a blur of trees and streetlights and shadows. His grip on the steering wheel was iron tight, and the radio was off. Silence screamed louder than any song ever could.

But he didn’t care.

There was only one place he needed to be.

With her.

He didn’t knock.

He never did.

Rafe pushed the door open like it belonged to him, like she belonged to him—though deep down, he never truly believed he deserved either. His hand trembled as he closed it behind him, the quiet click of the latch somehow louder than the slamming doors he'd left behind.

The house was dim, lit only by the low glow of a lamp in the corner of the living room. Warmth radiated from it. Her space always felt like that—soft, lived-in, safe. It smelled faintly like lavender, her shampoo, maybe a hint of coffee from earlier. It was the kind of scent that made his shoulders drop, even if just slightly, even if he didn’t notice it right away.

She stepped out of the hallway before he could call her name. Already there. Already moving toward him like she’d felt the storm long before he arrived.

She always did.

Her eyes scanned him—his clenched jaw, the redness in his eyes, the streak of blood across his knuckles. She didn’t gasp. Didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she crossed the room with quiet urgency, wrapping her arms around his trembling form before he could fall apart completely. And just like that, he was gone. The weight in his chest cracked open, spilling out in gasps and shudders as he collapsed into her like a dying star.

He didn’t speak at first. He couldn’t. His throat was raw, his teeth grinding against the sobs he didn’t want to let out—but they came anyway. They always did, with her.

His arms locked around her waist, holding her too tightly, like if he let go, he’d vanish. His face buried in the crook of her neck, breath hot and ragged against her skin. She held him without hesitation, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other running slow circles along his spine.

And still—nothing but silence. The good kind. The safe kind.

Eventually, his voice emerged, cracked and broken.

“I fucked it up again.”

She didn’t answer, just kept holding him. Her silence wasn’t emptiness—it was permission. Permission to not have it together. To not explain.

His fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt. His chest ached with the pressure of unspoken truths. When he finally pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with pain and exhaustion.

“He said I was a mistake,” Rafe murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Said I ruined everything. That I’m not worth saving.”

She blinked slowly, biting her bottom lip to keep the anger from spilling over. Not at Rafe. Never at him. But at the man who could look at his own son and say those words like they were gospel. Like Rafe hadn’t spent his whole life bleeding just to be seen.

“I’m tired,” he confessed, swallowing hard. “Tired of trying. Tired of pretending I’m not just—broken.”

He paused.

Then, quieter: “Tired of not being enough.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and that was it.

Her arms wrapped tighter around him, one hand coming to cradle the back of his head as she pulled him against her chest. She didn’t try to offer false hope. Didn’t try to argue with the storm inside him. She just held it. Held him.

He didn’t deserve her.

He thought that every time. Every night he showed up at her doorstep bruised and unraveling. Every time she put him back together, piece by trembling piece, like it wasn’t killing her too.

But still, she stayed.

His hands slid under her shirt, not with lust, but with need. He pressed his forehead against her bare stomach, grounding himself in the warmth of her skin. She let him. Let him take comfort however he could, never asking for more than what he could give.

He mumbled something into her skin—words she could barely hear, words that sounded like “don’t leave me”—and her fingers threaded gently through his hair, soft and slow, soothing the storm.

“I’m here,” she whispered, voice calm and sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The room felt quieter after that. He stayed on his knees, arms locked around her waist, like a soldier too tired to stand. His shoulders shook, but his breathing slowed. Her body was an anchor, her presence a lifeline.

And for the first time in hours—maybe days—Rafe felt like he could breathe.

Not because things were fixed. Not because the pain had gone away.

But because with her, he didn’t have to hide it.

I LITERALLY HAD A STORY IN MY DRAFTS THAT MATCHED THIS ASK HELL YEAH I was taking a mini break from studying for my English Literature exam (which technically by writing this, I’m technically studying RIIIIGHT???), opened tumble so I can indulge in some Patrick Zweig fics👅 when I decided to open my inbox, only to find this and this motivated me to finish this SO THANK YOU ANONYMOUS 😜✌🏽 I’m going to go back to studying now😓

[queenendless]

💗Safe Haven (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)💗

A/n: ... I legit had no clue what to write. So it's gonna be short. Sorry. God this JJK burnout is getting worse!

Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and these two are enemies on opposites sides but in reality are secret lovers (though it ain't a secret to those who truly know them) with you as their third. And like reader-chan, I need comfort right now.

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE, COPY, REPOST AND ETC MY FAN CONTENT. Reblog, like, and follow instead thnx u.

The front door of the apartment unlocked, swinging open as that familiar boisterous voice boomed out. “Sweetheart~! Your Toru is here~!” The door slide closed as Satoru Gojo took off his black dress boots to leave by your welcome mat.

His socked, heavy footsteps sounded getting closer in just a few strides. “Did ya miss me? Cause I sure missed — !”

The sounds of glass shattering followed by the loud thump of something falling made him run, honed in on your cursed energy. Finding you crumbled up on the glass shard covered floor of the living room.

“Y/n!?” Using the barest traces of cursed energy in his finger to collect the shards only to erode them into cursed nothingness, he could safely tend to you. “Hold on. I got you.”

Only when he slowly helped you roll around to sit up on your butt did he see crimson dripping down your hand from the cut open wound on your wrist.

“Fuck.” He muttered before speaking out loud. “I don't see any glass in there. Still,” He pulled off his blindfold to bind it tight enough to put enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Toru, your blindfold!”

“I have plenty of backups stashed back at my place. And here, of course. Besides, this is just temporary.” His updo now freed to let his hair down hang over those radiant eyes that bore anxious concern for you as well as the utmost confidence, pulling your uninjured hand up gently as his other arm wrapped around your waist to get you on your feet.

“Not to worry, my dearest angel. Your valiant lover will get you all patched up in no time.”

The sliding open of the rolling door leading to the balcony grabbed your attention.

Then again, you both felt that familiar cursed presence coming a mile away.

“Well now,” Seeing the manta ray returning to his own shadow, Suguru Geto hummed deeply. “What have we here?” He took off his zōri sandals to place by the open doorway. “Satoru, you're no healing nurse like Shoko is, ya know.”

“For your information, Suguru,” the sassy hurt in Gojo's voice betrayed the grin that was there. “I happen to be a wonderful nurse!”

Geto cheekily pointed out. “Then you have a small bloody puddle to wipe up, nurse-sama~”

Satoru groaned a bit. “Hang on. I can't be expected to do all the work.”

“My blood, my mess to clean up.” You meekly pointed out.

Satoru gently lifted you up by the waist just to plop you on the couch, clicking his tongue and wagging his finger at you. “Sorry love, but you look exhausted. No wonder you collapsed earlier and got yourself hurt. Now you need to take it easy.”

Suguru sighed deeply. “Very well. I'll help my dear Satoru out if it'll make him happy.”

Both men hummed as Gojo leaned over to smooch Geto for several drawn out moments to fill that mouth with its usual sweet taste. “Thank you~” Gojo beamed before stalking off to the bathroom where you kept the first aid kit under the sink.

Seeing a decent sized, withered red leaved Jubokko tree become sentient with blinking eyes creep out of Suguru's shadow made your curl away from it. “Sorry dearest, but it'll help clean up the mess much faster.” Suguru assured, despite cringing as its hole of a mouth sucked up every trace of blood on that floor, hissing as its root hands reached out for your bloody clothed wrist only to be sucked back into Suguru's shadow again.

“Wretched leech.” He griped, his white tabi socked feet padded over to you.

You flushed pink at the sight of Suguru undoing his gold-colored kāṣāya garment to drape over the couch as he rolled up his black yukata robe sleeves.

“Choosing to leave the sorcerer life is one thing … but living among these … monkeys. Honestly honey, I'd prefer you live with me and the girls … though with everything that's been transpiring lately …” He sat down and gingerly took your wrapped wrist, smiling faintly recognizing Gojo's blindfold even if bloodstained. “I can see why living away from all that chaos does seem safer.”

“I have returned!” Satoru slid in, holding the kit above his head like it was the newborn heir of the Pride Lands. “So, since I got here first and all, I figured you are up to playing nurse this time?”

“Fine by me. But best we clean it in the bathroom.” Geto recommended.

Gojo drooped, whining. “Back the way I came then. Jeez, could've told me that earlier?”

Geto scoffed. “Oh hush you.”

The cold tap water of your bathroom sink ran as the blindfold was unbound, plopping into the sink, crimson draining away as you kept your wrist under the running faucet.

“Fortunately, the cut isn't that deep so no stitching is needed. Still, I suggest you focus your attention elsewhere to make it seem less painful in your mind's eye, love.” Suguru cautioned as he doused a spare soft clothed rag on the countertop with your mild hand soap before letting it get wet enough.

“You can start by explaining why you're so pooped out?” Hugging you from behind meant you could lean on Satoru's sturdy body as your fatigue was coming back in.

“Insomnia.” You whined a bit as he lifted you up again just to plop you on the counter. “Depression. Lonesomeness – Figured it out now?” Your griping did unnerve them.

Your sniffling meant tears blurred your vision, looking away to face the wall and not them. Satoru weaved his hand through your hair, pulling your head to flush your weeping face in between his plush pecs as Suguru began dabbing and cleaning around the cut.

“I mean, work stress for one cause of course there is. Living here by myself for two. And seeing cursed spirits flock around here, harmless ones at that, still makes me anxious if things will escalate to full blown shit.” You felt yourself laxing as Gojo brushed your hair as well as your arm to reassure you that you weren't alone now. “I'm always gonna be worried for the day when you two don't come back … or for when you do return … but I'll be dead or worse.” The sting in your wrist was outweighed by the ache in your cracked heart.

Shadows covered both their faces, letting you speak.

“I know you both went through hell after Riko-chan … and Haibara-kun … and I thought leaving with Nanami-san would mean I find some semblance of peace and try to live as normally as I could.”

Gauze bandages gingerly covered your wrist as Geto's nimble hands got to work.

“Even so, I thought keeping in touch would be better than nothing … despite the risks … I needed to hear your voices again. See your smiles again. I'm sorry. I – !”

Tenderly holding your cheeks to have you look up at him, you became breathless as Gojo kissed you openly, his tongue brushing yours, capturing your sobs, brushing your streaking tears with those calloused thumbs of his.

“Never apologize for your big beautiful heart, you breathtaking angel.” Satoru heaved heavily, hot pants painting your trembling lips as various emotions swept through those big blue eyes.

Your chin was firmly grasped as your face turned to make way for Geto's lips as his thick neck flexed on how much he wanted to swallow your taste to drown out the horridness that is the taste of cursed spirits.

“How did two damaged beasts such as ourselves get to be blessed with the most endearing creature our eyes have ever laid upon?” Suguru whispered, devotion vivacious in his gaze.

Choked whimpers and shaky gasps leave your lips, submerged in their kisses of unified warmth.

“You were with me at my lowest point when I needed someone to hear me the most.”

“You knocked some sense into my dense noggin and dragged me back just so me and Suguru would hash things out.”

“Even prideful maniacs need to hash things out.” You yawned as Gojo carried you bridal style while Geto hurried packing the first aid kit away.

“I'm sorry we haven't made enough time for you, angel. I'm the biggest packing tank for handling the shittest messes those elders can throw at me. Doesn't beat seeing you though.” Satoru purred the last line as he flicked his pinkie finger to get your door to open. You giggled as he fell atop you on the bed, snatching Suguru's wrist as he just came in after. “Both of you~!”

Suguru's exasperated sigh was betrayed by his wistful grin as he smooched the smirk stretching on Satoru's face.

The sky went from cloudy and blue to the warm colors of the sunset.

Giant sculpted fingers traced your face. From your lashes to your nose. Brushing your forehead, your cheeks, then finally your breathing lips. Lost in deep sleep, Suguru watched in wonder at how serene you appeared.

Stripping off that black zip-up work jacket of his to drape over the dresser, Satoru laid down beside you, brushing your hair leisurely.

“So … what happens now?” Suguru murmured.

“Well,” Satoru hummed, raising a finger. “Option one: we keep going as things have been but that will still leave our little lamb all by her lonesome while we're swept up in the war of our ideals.”

“Option two: we both come clean about our secret but be labeled and hunted as partners in crime.” Suguru continued, raising his own finger.

“Or … there's always option three.” Oh Satoru the ominous.

“Which is?” Suguru was hesitant to ask.

“We three elope, you two and the girls can move into my place, we get two cats that look like us and we name them Catoru and Cuguru~!”

. . .

Suguru laughed under his breath. “You're such a doofus.”

“Well this doofus is all for you two to deal with til the end of our days.” Gojo drowsily put as he ruffled Geto's already tousled hair; his bun coming undone.

“Best to ask Y/n about it after she finally gets some good rest, first.” Geto kissed the wrist of Gojo's hand cupping his cheek; Gojo thumbed his earring filled, large earlobe.

“Hai Hai,” Pulling the younger man close enough, Satoru blissfully, deeply, lip lock danced with his best friend, partner in infamy, and one and only.

Well, one of two.

Heated panting hitting each other's faces, blue looked down, to which black followed.

Finally at ease, able to sleep with their distinctive scents and comfy warmth enveloping you.

For the first time in a while — what felt like forever to you actually — you were at peace.

Feeling velvety wet sweetness kissing you followed by another pair immediately after had you humming for more, to which brought you slightly out of sleep at how much they peppered your entire face with their loving kisses.

Sunset turned to night as their own exhaustion caught up to them both, spooning you from both sides, legs intertwined, snores filling the room, as three bundled into one among rustled sheets and strewn about pillows.

Your bandaged wrist brushed their bare wrists as their hands held yours.

Intertwined.

In hand.

And in life.

[sammylkcho]

Howdy! This is the first fic "x reader" that I am writing, so I hope you like it! and the english isn't my first language so sorry the horrible grammar and writing mistakes

Credits to cafekitsune for the divider!

Your breathing was ragged, your chest rising and falling erratically, leading you to hyperventilate.

It felt like a true hell, and you just wanted it to stop.

You couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered this reaction in your body or when it had begun.

The last thing you remembered was looking through scraps, trying to find something useful for Sebastian, hoping to help out a bit with his shop.

Some Flash Beacons had caught your attention because they had shards of broken glass at the front, making them seem useless.

Curious to see how they worked, you started fiddling with them, removing the fragile glass pieces that barely held on.

Time flew by, perhaps five minutes since he had left, and about ten while you examined the flash.

As you touched the broken pieces, a sudden sensation of déjà vu hit, freezing you in place.

Small fragments of what could’ve been a memory shot through your mind like a comet.

A blurry face, tears falling from reddish—no, maybe dark brown—eyes?

That brief memory left a bitter taste in your mouth, as though it were something painful.

Your calm breathing quickly turned into desperate gasps for air. Your hands began trembling as you struggled to inhale.

You tried to anchor yourself to reality, reaching for anything solid. Touching the floor, you focused on its texture, but it didn’t help.

Frustration and stress built as your small panic attack worsened.

You longed to hear a voice, someone—anyone—to pull you out of this.

You scratched your palms with your nails, leaving red marks and a burning sensation you barely noticed. It didn’t occur to you that if you kept hurting yourself, you could break the skin.

The more you scratched your palms and arms, the more you curled into a ball.

It might have been your mind playing tricks on you, anxiety consuming you, but you swore you heard a faint, high-pitched voice, muffled like it was underwater.

You didn’t try to make sense of it—your dazed state wouldn’t allow it.

You felt like you were spiraling, about to fall deeper, when the weight of something on your shoulder brought you back to reality.

It was Sebastian.

You had no idea when he’d arrived.

You blinked several times, letting the tears you’d been holding back finally fall.

Seeing that you were more grounded, Sebastian gently placed his third arm on your hips and pulled you closer.

Noticing no discomfort or protest from you, he started stroking your hair gently, untangling small knots as he did.

Small, stifled sobs escaped you, ones you couldn’t hide.

You opened and closed your mouth, struggling to form words that died in your throat. Speaking felt impossible.

Instead, you reached out, hugging him as tightly as you could, letting him know how grateful you were for his presence.

Neither of you said anything, but you didn’t need to. You both understood how the other felt in moments like these. The silence was a comfort, a language of its own.

[gothic-thoughts]

Keep Our Mouths Busy

Sanji Vinsmoke x Black Fem Reader Angst

DomesticAU, ModernAU, Drunk Sanji

CW: Sanji yelling and breaking a bottle, reader has oral fixation, banging on doors, anxiety/stress reliving tactics

TW: drunken anger

Word Count: 1196 (give or take)

Any French translated via DeepL

Sanji came back late at night, slamming the front door closed, startling you out of your sleep. You roll over in your shared bed and go to walk downstairs. You step off the last step into the living room to see his tie and blazer discarded on the floor near the front door and upon hearing soft cursing followed by the sound of glass hitting the marble countertop, you slowly walk to the kitchen.

"Il ne m'écoute jamais, putain(Never fucking listens to me).” He mutters, messily filling a shot glass with whiskey, “Jamais (Never does)." 

The slight sway of his body showed that this wasn’t his first drink of the night. He downs the glass in one gulp before slamming it down next to the bottle of whiskey before he picks it up, looking at the label and scoffing with a sarcastic smirk.

“Great... maintenant, je suis un putain d'ivrogne comme lui (now I’m a fucking drunk just like him)!”

He throws the bottle to the floor, making it shatter against the tile, shocking you out of your drowsiness with a loud yelp from where you stood in the doorway. Sanji turned to face you, leaning back against the counter.

“Have your lost your mind!?” You yelled, staying in the doorway to keep your bare feet from the sharp shards and alcohol littering the floor, “The hell is your problem?!”

“Qu'est ce que tu fais ici (What are you doing here?)”

“Why are you drunk, you were at work!”

He kept staring at you wordlessly, you don’t even think your words were getting through to him in this state. Sanji picked up the shot glass again, taking another sip as if it was still full before slamming it back on the counter. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind so you backed up a little, but he took a step forward, glass crunching under his dress shoes with his eyes still intensely locked on you. He clearly had no idea how scary he looked right now.

"Qu'est que tu veux(What do you want)?”

You back up again, stepping out of the kitchen, “In English, I can’t--”

"I said what do you want?" He snapped, slurring, “Why you down here so early?”

"First of all, Vin, it's 12 am," Your eyebrows raise, “Second who the fuck are you getting loud with?"

He stepped forward again, eyebrows furrowing. "Vin...? What are you talking about? My name is Sanji."

“Not when you're being a dick and breaking shit.”

He squints then struts towards you making you immediately keep your distance with tears burning your eyes, preparing to fall and your heart racing unsure of what he was going to do but he didn’t seem to care if he even noticed. He just followed you backwards, strides longer than yours as you hoped he wouldn’t have to hurt him.

“Tch, you think I’m being a dick?” 

“Yes, you are and I'm calling you your first name until you remember how to act right.”

He stops walking when he notices tears of frustration brimming your eyes, right before you jog upstairs, leaving nothing but the sound of your bedroom door slamming before locking it. He stumbles upstairs, gripping the banister tightly until he reaches the top floor then staggers and throws himself at the door, banging his fists against the door several times.

"Baby, open the door." His voice contrasts with his actions heavily, “C’mon, you can’t just lock yourself in there, open--”

“Stop banging on the fuckin' door before the neighbors call!”

"How was I being a dick, I barely said anything to you!”

"You actin' like you ain't break a whole bottle in my vicinity then walked up on me like we was bouta fight."

“I didn’t, I was just-- I just..."

"Ion even wanna hear what you think you did cuz why else would I be in here?"

"I'm... I’m not...” He stops banging, finally gaining some self awareness as he leans against the door, “I'm... merde, I'm scaring you--"

"No shit, so calm the fuck down."

"You know I’m not mad at you, cheri, right?”

"I'm not asking you what you're mad at, I'm telling you that you need to relax."

You could hear his quiet, shallow breaths almost like he was panting just to calm down. Part of you wanted to help and hold him but you thought it was best to keep your distance until you were sure he was calm. Your heart pounded in chest with each of his breaths until they became deeper and more focused. After a few seconds, he knocks softly with one knuckle like he always did, making you let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Mon chéri... I'm okay, now. You can come on, okay...? Please, I'm calm now."

“You sure?” You ask, despite already being at the door, ready to see a non-threatening expression.

"Yes baby, I promise..." He sighed. "Just come to me, please? I'm sorry."

“When I open the door, I’m finna slap you.”

"You can slap me all you want, chéri, I earned it. Just open the door for me...?"

You unlock and open the door, revealing your tear-streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes to him as you anxiously chewed on the gold chain hanging loosely around your neck. His eyebrows rise with more worry but as soon as he opened his mouth, you slapped him across the face, turning his head and making his hair flip to the side. He slowly reached up to touch his face, feeling the spot that you had slapped while the necklace fell from your mouth when you opened your mouth.

“I....” You sniffle, “I thought you were going to hit me.”

"No, no! I would never hit you... I would never; why would you ever think that?"

“I-I don't know, you're drunk.” You fumble with the chain again, placing it back in your mouth, “And you smashed a fuckin’ bottle and you were yelling a-and banging on shit so I thought you were mad enough to--”

"To hit you, no. Never. I'm sorry, I was upset and I wasn’t thinking about my movements or tone."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face a few times. He stepped closer, slowly reaching to cup your face in his shaking hands, looking down at you with sad, apologetic eyes.

"But I would never hit you. Never... Never, baby.”

“I didn't know, you're usually flirty when you're drunk and I just assumed the worst when walked up on me like that.”

"Yeah, I know, but tonight I drank because I was angry, I didn't become it.”

You sniffle a little, trying to get over it but your heart is still racing and he could tell by the way you were still gnawing on your strings so he steps closer and gently pulls your necklace out before replacing it with his middle and ring fingers into your mouth and watching you nibble lightly.

“Don’t like when you chew on your chain, charmant(lovely). Don’t want you breaking it.”

He pulled you into his chest, hugging you while the thumb of his free hand effortlessly caressed up and down the back of your bonnet as he held your head. He kisses your forehead, breath still reeking of whiskey.

"I’d never hurt you." He said quietly against your head, “I’d never, please forgive me, baby.”

You nod against his chest, snuggling closer. After several silent seconds of lightly grazing your teeth just about his knuckles for comfort, you grab his wrist and pull his hand away.

“What even happened?” You ask

“The old man benched me again, this time for the whole shift and we had fight in front of the restaurant. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you though."

[dilfhos]

WALKING ON GLASS.

#!WHO; SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS x fem!reader

#!CC: power play, o.sex (receiving), implications of demonic entities

NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet

The sound of dishes smashing against the floors was deafening as it carried throughout the manor. The splintering shatter of an expensive set caused the three three other house aids to grimace. In the upper room of Ciel Phantomhive, his eyes closed and he sighed, for regret was starting to cloud his mind in hiring you— the new maid. The help to what he’d already deemed, ‘A full house.’

Sebastian bowed gracefully, his head cocked slightly as he smiled.

“I will see to it that the mess will be cleaned young master.”

“Make sure that you do. I have very little patience left.” Phantomhive waved off. Sebastian then walked out shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He pulled at his pristine gloves as he walked down the hallways, a devilish grin splitting his face.

When he’d arrived at the kitchen door he’d picked up on quips of complaints from you and Mei-Ren.

“I’m going to be done for sure this time...” You whined, brushing glass pieces onto a dustpan.

“I’m sure you won’t. The young master is lenient. During my recent years I was such a klutz and Sebastian had to—”

The butler opened the door and the conversation halted with unease in the air. Mei-Ren stood nervously and you kept your head low as your fingers trembled to pick up the rest of the glass. The heat of eyes boring into the side of your head didn’t go unnoticed as they clinked softly together in the pile.

“You may go. I shall handle this.” Sebastian’s velvety voice remained low, his eyes glued on your crouched form. Mei-Ren gave a reassuring glance towards you and bowed quickly. After the haste retreating footsteps, the room was quiet except for the soft sound of tinkling glass shards.

“Stand please,” Sebastian hummed, his red eyes trailing your straned movements; your chest rose and fell slightly and he could hear the quickening tapping of your beating heart. Your eyes looked everywhere but at him, which he found a bit rude but another lesson to be made at a later date.

You clasped your hands in front of your body, ready to endure whatever verbal penalty was sure to be made. This wasn’t your first offense.

Countless of glassware had been destroyed by your hand, not to mention the mistakes you’ve made since you were hired by the young master. From nearly burning down the manor due to attempted meals, to using the wrong chemicals in the garden. All resulting in Sebastian’s stern dispraises. Phantomhive pegged you to be just as bad as his other servants put together.

Sebastian began to snake towards you, his movements precise and elegant. With ease, he’s stepped through the shards of remaining glass, not even trailing it behind him. As he got closer, you subconsciously shrunk back until you hit the far wall with a small gasp.

Sabastian brought his hand to his mouth, swiftly biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, all the while his gaze never left yours. Leaving the glove on his left hand, he pressed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He picked out the accelerated beating in your chest as his face lowered towards yours.

Sebastian was never going to admit this to any mortal, but he a part of him was looking forward to another slip up from you. Ever since the young lord hired you, your entire essence intrigued him. On more accounts than one, the need for self restraint became nearly intangible whenever you were around. He knew humans were creatures who could not reject temptation. Never had he thought he’d be acting just like them.

His eyes held a dark glint in them as his lips stretched into a grin.

“That set was a favorite of the young lord,”

“I’m sorry! I slipped and I really tried to catch my fall, but I only ended up making things worse.”

“Yes, the ordeal is quite unfortunate,” He continued. “The entire glass set was a precious family heirloom.” The demon lied, which was proven to be effective given the horror stricken look on your face. You were on the verge of tears and your lips parted to let out a soft sigh.

Sebastian brought a finger under your chin, pulling your head up in his direction. For the first time, you were made to look into his piercing eyes and you gulped.

“I’m sure I can come up with a reason for the destruction of the valuables.” His eyes shone mischievously and a second later, it hit you. And he knew that you were not going to reject the offer. In return, his knee slid upwards, dragging out a gasp from you at the sudden movement and the friction against your core. He smirked and lowered his sight to the rise and fall of your chest, zeroing in on your breasts.

“Lift your uniform and turn around.” His order was low and straight to the point, sending a shiver down your spine. He stepped back, allowing you to do so and once you were facing the wall, your cheeks heated up in how vulnerable you were now before the butler. A second or so later, you felt cool air hitting your heat and you whimpered, turning your head slightly. You then felt strong hands taking hold on your hips, gripping them in a way that sent dull pain throughout your legs.

“Face the wall.”

Sebastian moved closer, licking his lips at the scent of your femininity. It was different and he was intrigued. His finger hooked through the side of your panties, pulling them taut and exposing your glistening lower lips. He leaned forward, giving you a quick and experimental lick, causing you to release a not-so-quiet cry.

“I would strongly suggest keeping your voice down, yes? We wouldn’t want an audience.” He chuckled before returning his mouth to your pussy. You quickly clenched your uniform dress in one hand as the other covered your mouth, muffling your moans in your gloved hand.

His tongue flattened against you, teasing your clit before trailing back until it disappeared inside of you, writhing and thrusting against your gummy walls. Your body was growing flush as he worked his mouth against you, drawing more and more of your slick.

Sebastian’s movements started off as sensual and graceful, much like his surface personality. But each second his senses spent engulfed in your heat ignited something primal in him. His refined technique was abandoned and replaced with one less coordinated but more enthusiastic nonetheless.

Subconsciously, his fingers dug deeper into your hips releasing more added pleasure than pain. Obscene wet noises arose, synchronizing with your low moans. A hand left your hip to push past your folds and curled upwards, effectively sending a shock through your body resulting in a cry this time.

Sebastian hummed, taking the action into memory and his ministrations seemingly went lazy. At this point, it wouldn’t take much more for you to come and he knew this, doing it again.

His face pushed deeper against you, his tongue nudging your clit and at the same time curling his finger and this is what sent you over the edge.

The noise that escaped wasn’t suppressed behind your palm this time. Your thighs quivered as you calmed down, whimpering as the butler gave you a final few laps before standing. Now more than before, you wanted to feel him, see him, touch him as he ravaged you with what he had to offer.

Turning around slightly, you caught a glimpse of darkness, the air around you suddenly cold. Murkiness surrounded you, as you only caught a flash of his twisted face in a snarl—a stark contrast to his typical refined features. A shiver ran down your spine, his grip returning but tighter than the last.

“You still refuse to listen.” His breath was ticking your ear, tone menacing but the same velvet that compelled your limbs to relax.

Before you could come up with some half thought out apology, he sheathed his dick into you, grunting softly when he was flush against your ass. Not knowing when he had the time to release himself, you keened at the sudden intrusion as you shifted and tightened around him.

He sighed, strumming his fingers on your hips before pulling out and pushing into you firmly. His movements formed a rhythm as you were rocked against the wall. By now, your hand had fallen from your mouth and was instead placed on the surface in front of you. Movements increasing in speed as well as forcefulness, moans poured from you, wafting through the kitchen and you could only hope that’s where they’ll remain.

Sebastian grunted before yanking your hands behind you, wrists gripped under his one hand with precision at the small of your back. He’s reverted to fucking you with reckless abandon, his own breathing just barely ragged.

You, however were a mess, your vision blurred with wetness, voice producing a low mantra of the butler’s name as a desired pressure began to build up within you. Over and over, his thrusts hit that sweet spot within you that pushed you closer and closer to that moment of bliss.

“What do you think of this lesson?” It was a strange question, at the even most strangest time. It barely processed in your ears and you’re only half inclined to answer in the state you’re in. However, his hand reaches to tilt your head back, face ethereally perfect as golden pools stare into your soul.

“Hnn..?” You couldn’t think, much less articulate any response he was looking but that was alright. He just wanted to drink in the gloss in your eyes as your mouth moves, no words escaping. Your cunt pulsated around him, each stroke drawing more and more of your essence from your body. Perhaps, he thought, it would be wrong to indulge in a bit of the human soul. Not when you were so vulnerable and pliant under his mere gaze. You didn’t see him now. You didn’t see what he’d become again, as the only thing you that surrounded you was the grip of the cold and your cunt being stretched out.

Only when he released you with a low chuckle did the static disipitate and the pressure snaps, his hand quick to hold your cries.

Delicious aftershocks took hold of you, controlling your convulsions as you clenched repeatedly around Sebastian’s cock. You couldn’t see the subtle twist of his features as he approached euphoria as well, his grip icy as he held you against the wall. Following suit soon after, his hot come spilled into you in copious amounts, filling you until it trickled down your thighs.

He pulled out and your legs buckled slightly beneath you before he chuckled and you were spun around.

“Hey now,”

Sebastian was altogether neat. His uniform remained as immaculate as they were when he walked in, white gloves on and pristine. His face retained its usual fair skinned complexion, void of sweat or any indication of vigorous activity.

Meanwhile, you knew you looked a complete mess if it wasn’t obvious. Sebastian cocked his head and smiled warmly, a bright expression that contrasted the devil in his eye.

“Despite how pleasurable this lesson has been, I implore you to exercise caution and heighten your awareness. The young master would not appreciate any more recklessness from you and neither will I.” As he spoke his teeth gleamed only adding to the weight of his words engraved in your mind.

Still you straightened, your hands clasping tightly over your uniform as you nodded curtly.

“Yes Sebastian!”

After that encounter in the kitchen, your mistakes and slip-ups had been reduced to very little occurrences to absolutely none.

“See I knew you’d get the hang of things!” Mei-Ren beamed.

“Maybe I’ll let you cook something small again. Seeing how much you improved and all.” Baldroy had praised, fanning a smoking pot.

Each of the house aids were ultimately pleased you were doing better than you had been before.

Even Phantomhive seemed content, but not at all surprised knowing Sebastian had a hand in it. The butler was delighted as well, rewarding your improvements with favorable pleasures every now and again.

He still needed to teach you a lesson about listening after all.

DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content— current or archival.

[white-poppie]

Healing ★ ft. jjk men (Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji)

synopsis: how the jjk men help you heal from your fears and worries

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

The way your heart jumps to your throat at Geto-sama cursing out some damn 'monkey' is almost pitiful. Its cruel, the way he is gritting his teeth, the way his voice booms in the echoing chambers

Suguru's rage, its not even directed at you. But his voice is a bit too loud for your liking. Till it overpowers any other voice in your surroundings and sends your mind into an overdrive.

A numbing buzz echoes in the cortex of your brain and you feel a familiar heat behind your eyes.

It claws at you, your bottom lip trembling in the storm you get caught until a soft warmth holds your shoulders.

You look in front, met by scrunched eyebrows, that furrow in concern, pale lips parted in concern.

"Angel?" the storm says, his breath caught in his lungs. But he's cruel alright? Relentless, but the storm calms. He turns into soft gusts around you. Suguru cups your face in his hands, thumb caressing the apple of your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asks quietly and you nod softly.

"What happened? You zoned for quite a bit there, scared me there, angel."

""s nothing, I just got a little startled when you...spoke a little loudly." you say and his eyes soften, pale lips pressing on your temple.

"Sorry angel, I should've been more careful around you, it's my fault, but you gotta know my anger could never be directed towards you," he murmurs, brushing his hand through your hair.

A storm indeed, but Suguru is your breeze on an autumn afternoon.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

You listen intently to Satoru as you both sit on the dinner table. He goes on about his day, the way he was a pain in the ass for the higher-ups again. You chuckle and take a sip from the glass next to your plate, but your fingers lose their grip on the glass as it falls down, shards scattering on the marbled floor. Your eyes widen and silence crashes down in the living area, your breathing fastens and you don't even dare look back at Gojo.

"I am sorry- I am so sorry, I'll clean it up." You say letting out a rictus laugh as you lean down to haphazardly pick up the glass shards, your hands trembling like having just come from the shower on a winter day.

Bending down you pick up the shards with your bare fingers and Satoru's eyebrows furrow at your behaviour.

"Y/N, sweetheart you are gonna prick yourself with those shards." He says but his words cease to travel the vacuum you have built around yourself.

Gojo kneels to your level and grabs your wrist, feeling your erratic pulse under his fingers, the shiver of your limbs, you look similar to a dog under a firework show and his chest hurts.

"Sweetheart relax, you'll hurt yourself," he says softly, terrified, even more than you possibly. He is so scared of scaring you. He is so scared of making it worse. You take in a sharp breath and nod lightly.

"Let me get the dust-pan and broom this," he whisper softly, leaving you between the constellation of the shards, your thoughts, coiled into an unforgiving a ball, only broken when he walks back, kneeling beside you, gently dusting the pieces into the pan as he looks at you with a smile.

"There, all done," he says and searches into your eyes for a reaction. The faint cinkle in them shouts, 'you are not mad at me?' It’s so obvious from the watery look on your face.

“I am not mad, sweetheart, I could never be mad at you” He affirms and smiles. His hands, move to brush your hair gently, reaffirming it.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

You hate this. You hate how stupid this scanning ticket-check system makes you feel. It makes you feel like a boomer, a hobo if you might as you struggle with getting the scan done. Its not even then fact you can't operate it. You can easily operate it, but there's people behind you, waiting, groaning all the the while your hands tremble in mortification.

Beep. Denied

Beep. Denied.

Beep. Denied again

It was never ending, the machine kept on denying your effort and you could swear you heard someone in the line behind you groan.

"Here, let me," a voice interjects and you look up at Nanami, his eyes softening at the sight of your flushed face as he gently takes the ticket from you and gets it scanned...oh so it was this way. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment, wanting to cry out of anxiety.

You feel Nanami's arm against your lower back as it curls around your waist, walking a few steps ahead with you, his embrace blocking any extraneous factors that trouble you.

"You okay, love?" he inquires softly, his thumb rubbing circles on your spine.

"I feel stuped Ken'" you mumble your voice cracking.

“You are one of the smartest people I know, y/n” he coos slightly, “you just got overwhelmed, even the best of us get overwhelmed sometimes and that’s alright.” He says, caressing your shoulder gently.

“There’s a lot of things you can do that I can’t.”

“Like?”

“Hmmm….like being this effortlessly cute all the time.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

Toji Fushiguro was one of those men who had not an ounce of gentleness in them. Those hunter eyes of his that never softened at anything. Its not his fault, its just the way he looks. He can't help it.

The thing about Toji is that he snores while sleeping and yet somehow even with those deep snores, his sleep is restless.

So when he grumbles and opens his eyes to your dry sobs, scrunched eyebrows and spasmodic body. He jolts awaken.

The thing with Toji is that he hates his sleep being disturbed, but what he hates even more is seeing you in despair, seeing you suffer like that.

"Y/N, wake up, you are having a nightmare," he says, softly nudging you with his scarred hands. You jolt awake and turn to him, your eyes blurry, your cheeks wet, and your lips parted for an aborted sob.

Toji's heart drops to his stomach at the visual. He sits up straight and his arms instantly come up to pull you to his chest.

"Ssh, what did you dream about baby?" he asks, letting you nuzzle into him and get comfortable as his hands softly caress your back, his warm palm running up and down, heating your cold body.

You sigh against his chest and shake your head, "Just had a dream that you left me..." You say and he sighs, resting his chin on your head

"Such stupid dreams my baby has," he says calmly, his deep voice rumbling in a low purr. "How could I ever leave you?"

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

"Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! [Synopsis: Read full synopsis HERE ... The year is 1759, London. Shakespeare’s new estate is set on fire by Reverend Francis Gastrell. History repeats itself, 250 years later when Luna Gastrell stands in turmoil due to her ancestry taking a sinister turn. A ploy of vengeance, illusions, betrayals, blooming romance and morally conflicting measures, and the cards lie in favour of none.] I am a 16-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

— JUJUTSU KAISEN - Fanfictions

TAGS: @akumicchi, @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi, @buttercupspotify, @euphoricbi @ynjimenez

﹒ Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!)

[luvgumii]

bully!megumi

2k words!!

tw: aged up characters, sadism, bullying, degrading, hair pulling, semi-public, male masturbation.

this is set in university/college, all characters are 18+ and megumi is aged up. if this makes you uncomfortable, please scroll.

a/n: im sorry but i accidentally deleted the request so whoever asked for this i hope u see it!!

megumi fushiguro was someone who you loved and hated.

and someone that you couldn't get rid of.

you stared at the floor where your chemistry experiment lay, the shattered glass that lay scattered across the floor reminded you of your willpower to go through with school. you had the mind to fucking quit and work a lowly job with a measly pay if it meant you didn't have to endure this.

if anyone asked you why you quit school and you said because of your bully, you knew they would laugh in your face and ridicule you. call you weak and that you must not have wanted to graduate considering how 'easy' it must have been to get you to quit.

the quiet sounds of snickers echoing the classroom snapped you out of your trance, and you quickly dropped to your knees to pick up the glass with trembling hands. you already knew who had knocked the test tubes out of your hands, so much so that you didn't even look up or express any signs of annoyance, knowing how much worse it would be if you did.

your shaking hands kept letting the shards slip out, and you let out a sharp hiss when you felt a large piece slice through the middle of your palm. the pain sears through your hand and the tears that you tried to desperately hard to keep it were now threatening to spill. but you still didn't dare lift your gaze.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel a hand grab your hair and tug, yanking your head up in the process.

"fuck, you cant do anything right, can you?" he sneered, words cutting through you like a knife. you could already picture the look on his face, one you were familiar with, but made you feel just as incapable every time you saw it.

"are you mute or something? talk." the hand that had a grip of your hair moved back and forth, rocking your head in the process.

you let your eyes flutter open, and they land on his face that was twisted into a sadistic smirk, one you had seen many times before.

but that smirk quickly turned into a deep scowl when you didn't respond instantly, the grip in your hair getting tighter until it felt as if your hairs were being ripped out. your hands fly up to grip his wrist, trying to pry his hand from your hair, but it proves futile.

"a-ah, okay, m'sorry, m'sorry, p-please let go-" you babble, your words coming out in a flurry as he seems to revel in the pained look on your face. he thinks you look so pretty like this.

he's so focused on you that he nearly forgets that he's in a classroom full of other students. it's not as if they care anyway- most of them turn a blind eye. they tell themselves it's just a little bit of rough play between friends and opt to just leave instead of even thinking to help you out.

but obviously, there's a limit to how far he can go in public. when he notices that the usual snickers seem to have died down, and the faces that normally look at you with distaste start to have a slight hint or concern in them, he immediately lets up. his disentangles his hand from your hair, watching the way your body slumps back down on the ground. your hands fall in front of you to steady themselves, the smaller peices of glass digging into your skin.

you don't bother holding back the tears anymore. you let them fall freely, the clear liquid staining your cheeks.

his smirk only seemed to widen when he saw your tears, and he had to force himself not to lean down and lick them off your face. the familiar stretch in his pants appeared when he looked at you on your knees before him, blinking up at him with teary eyes and wet lashes, your plump lips trembling slightly.

he's forced to take his eyes off you when one of his friends nudge him, his face frowning at what he hears. he grumbles, muttering a few words under his breath before turning his attention back to you.

"clean this mess up." his words a cold and blunt, practically pouring salt into your wounds as he turns away and walks out the door as his friends follow. then everyone else filters out quietly, only sparing you a few pitiful glances.

you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. you've been through worse. he's done worse. you'll be fine.

he walks down the corridors quickly, shooing off his friends with a lousy excuse as he hurries into an empty bathroom stall and locks the door. he wastes no time unbuckling his belt and tugging down his trousers and boxers, letting out a soft groan of relief as his hard cock slips out of its uncomfortable confines as it hits his abs with a soft slap.

it's swollen and throbbing, his tip leaking pre-cum that trickles down the side of his dick. the length is so pale that it's almost translucent, veins running along it that get thinner as they reach the top. the tip is flushed pink, the slit weeping pre-cum constantly.

he grips his base tightly, hissing at how sensitive he is. he hated himself for this. it felt so dirty every time he got off to your tears, but he couldn't help it. his mind trailed back to your plump lips that were stained with your tears, his hand starting to stroke his cock.

this was a routine for him. he knew he would never get to feel your holes wrapped around him- he had practically ruined all his chances with you. so he was stuck beating his meat in a public bathroom like a fucking pervert. he could feel the heat rush to his cheeks at the humiliation, but his tip leaked even more pre cum at the thought of you cursing him out for being a pervert.

he could already feel his orgasm approaching, you made him feel like a fucking teenager sometimes. he can't even count how many times he nearly came in his pants at the sight of you beneath him. those teary eyes that had an emotion lingering behind them as they gazed up at him- an emotion he could never put his finger on.

he could feel his balls tightening, he knew that this orgasm would probably leave him panting. he tightened his grip, and starts fucking his hips up into his hand using his pre-cum as lube. his other hand pulls his shirt in between his teeth as so not stain his shirt. he lets out a guttural groan as he's about to cum, his hips stuttering and-

the door to the bathroom swings open, creaking slightly as the sound of feet shuffling on the floor is heard.

who the fuck? he was sure everyone had cleared the area, there was no one left apart from one person-

shit. it was you. he peeked through the gap between the door and the stall, his eyes landing on your back as you faced away from him, washing your hands in the sink. he could see your still tear stained face in the reflection of the mirror.

your were leaning forward slightly, your shirt falling further down your chest exposing your cleavage, and his cock weeps even more at the sight. he barely holds back a whimper.

fuck it. so what it you catch him? it's not like you could do anything anyway... plus, he could still feel his orgasm lingering. just a few thrusts...

he starts to fuck his fist again, with much more urgency than before as he tries to be as quiet as possible. he peeks back at you again, and the sight of your ass peeking from underneath your skirt has him letting out a slutty moan, his hips stuttering as ropes of cum spurt out of his cock and onto his abs and hand.

"is someone there?" you question, and he freezes up as you start walking towards his stall.

you had thought the bathroom was empty since all of the stalls had the unlocked symbol on them, but you failed to notice the pair of feet that were visible.

"um, are you okay in there?" you say, and he holds back a whine as his cock twitches in response to your worried tone.

you gaze falls down to the pair of feet in the stall, and you swear you've seen those shoes somewhere before...

"m-megumi? is that you?" you question, not able to hide the slight tremor in your voice.

"yeah." he responds, not bothering to act as if it's not him.

your hands push the stall door open slightly, wondering what he was doing since the door was unlocked, but you definitely didn't expect to see that.

his trousers were still pulled halfway down his thighs, his shirt no longer in between his teeth but resting on his midriff, his abs exposed as well as the spurts of cum that lingered on them. his cock was still hard, his hand gripping it tightly at the base. he was still leaning against the wall, his eyes locked on you.

you couldn't stop but take in his whole figure, the heat rushing to your face as well as somewhere lower. you never expected to see him in this state.

"are you going to keep on gawking on you going to get in and help me?" he says, his voice laced with slight lust. he would rather take his chances with you than never finding out how you feel towards him.

but he wasn't expecting you to walk into the stall and close the door, locking it before turning back to him. but he wasn't about to question you. his hands reach out and grab your waist before pulling you flush against him, and you squirm slightly as you feel his hard cock against your lower stomach.

you can feel his warm breath fanning across your lips, and his eyes are clouded with lust as he looks into your own.

"fuck, you- do you really want this?" he questions, conflict written all over his face.

you hesitate slightly before nodding your head. you're unsure as to why you didn't run out the second you realised he was here. its almost like you're attracted to him.

"need to hear you say it." he murmurs, his hands sliding underneath your shirt to make skin to skin contact as his hands slide around to your lower back.

"I... want this. i want you, megumi." the words sound foreign coming out of your mouth, but you know that you mean them.

he practically growls at your words, his hand coming up to your nape as he brings your lips together.

this kiss is soft yet rough at the same time, his tongue searching your mouth in a show of possessiveness. his lips leave a trail of wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck, paying special attention to your pulse point.

his hand slides up your shirt and into your bra, starting to roughly knead your breast, groaning slightly in content.

"a-ah, wait, megumi-" you fumble over your words slightly, but to your suprise, he pulls back, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. you can tell he's waiting for you to speak, so you do.

it was if you were his property. he could harass you as much as he wants, but no one else should even so much look at you. you didn't miss the oddly kind he did sometimes.

"um... why are you doing this? I thought you hated me..." you say, cringing slightly at your own words but it was true. he treated you like shit.

verbally degrading you, pushing and shoving you around, and sometimes even pulling your hair like he had done earlier today. but the second someone even made one remark towards you, his fist was flying towards them.

he would drag you over to him by the wrist just to fix your hair and tug your skirt down, calling you a slut but anyone could that he didn't mean it by look of concern in his eyes.

or when you would hurt yourself, he would take it upon himself to bandage you, even if it was partly his fault for the bruise or cut on your body.

his voice would be rough as he called you clumsy for hurting yourself and that you were a waste of space for mot even being able to dress your own wounds. but his hands would be gentle as he cleans and wraps the plaster around your skin.

and you hated it. that you couldn't hate him. the way your heart would flutter when he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to fix it, or when he would pull your hair and smirk down at you, you could feel heat coiling in your lower stomach.

"hate you?" he scoffs, shaking his head as he pulls back to look you in the eyes, "im so in love with you that it's fucking pathetic."

"...then why do you-"

"I dont really know how to express myself. and I'm a bit of a... sadist." he says, his face turning a shade of pink.

"i know you don't love me back, I wouldn't expect you to, but just let me have you... please. even if it's only one time." he murmurs, peppering kisses on your collarbone.

your connect your lips to his again, kissing him with slightly more urgency. he was right- you didn't necessarily love him, but you were attracted to him in some sort of way.

plus, this would be the only time this would happen. right?

dividers by cafekitsune

[lillaluna]

in this world and that world

Pairing: Diluc, Childe, Ayato, Wriothesley x f!Reader

Summary: You're absolutely in love with your beautiful character from the game Genshin Impact and at one point, you meet him in your reality.

DILUC

You've had an absolutely lousy day, preceded by the same morning and preceded by the same evening. It's been like this for a month now.

Going home after work, you decided that it would not be a bad idea to buy yourself a bottle of wine, especially today was Friday. Going to the shop, you went to your favourite rack and took that bottle of wine, which you had taken almost every Friday until today.

"I'd better not take it, it's not the best vintage and…"

"I'll probably sort out my own drinking, mister!" - you were just starting to wind up, like a flame that had been inadvertently splashed with fuel. Turning round to the guy who'd made the remark you were preparing to unleash all your anger on him, but when you met his scarlet eyes you froze. Then somewhere in the back of your mind you heard the sound of breaking glass. "Diluс," you squeaked.

The guy ignoring your daze fussed around you, holding out his hand for you to safely step over the shards from the broken bottle. He kept saying that one of the staff would come and clean it up, when you automatically put your hand into Diluс's open palm, and as soon as your fingers touched you passed out.

AYATO

After waiting at the bus stop for almost an hour, you decided there was nothing more to catch there and headed home on foot. It wasn't a long walk, but you were hampered by a downpour, the first of the rainy season. Scolding yourself for forgetting your umbrella at home and pressing your head into your shoulders as if it could save you from the large drops of rain, you waited for the traffic light to turn green, standing in front of the pedestrian crossing.

And at some point, the rain stopped. No, not everywhere. The drops stopped falling on the top of your head, pouring under your clothes. Without taking your eyes off the ground you turned your head a little and saw a man's light-coloured shoes, followed by white trousers. As you looked up, you noticed a blue shirt. And a white jacket that was thrown over the man's broad shoulders.

This image already reminded you vaguely of someone, and looking up, you met the blue eyes of the guy across from you.

You must have looked like a madwoman, standing like that, under the umbrella the man held over you, while you stared at him and literally forced yourself to breathe.

"Ayato…", you whispered quietly, afraid that the magic was about to dissipate or that you'd wake up in bed sweating, but the guy across from you just smiled sweetly.

"I thought we knew each other. I can't figure out where I've seen you before".

CHILDE

Evening. Your room in the student dormitory, where you've been trying to memorise the answers to the tests for one of the most important exams of your life for the past hour. On the one hand you're let down by your absent-mindedness and lack of concentration, and on the other… On the other hand by the loud music that's blaring, as it seems to you, to the whole neighbourhood.

Unable to stand these beautiful tunes, you decide to go and deal with the troublemaker. Of course, you hope to just ask him/her to turn it down, but you don't completely dismiss the idea that you might have to fight.

You had to knock long and hard, pulling the doorknob a few times before the music stopped and you finally heard footsteps outside the door. Preparing to utter an angry tirade, you took more air into your lungs, and as soon as the door opened you let the air out like a balloon.

Your first thought was that you'd fallen asleep. Yeah you must have fallen asleep playing on your phone, and that's why in your dream you now have Childe standing in front of you and smiling cheekily, awkwardly scratching himself on the back of his head.

"I guess I did it too loud," the guy says, but you just let it pass and looking at him full in your mind's eye, you unceremoniously reach out and poke your finger right into his chest to make sure he's real.

WRIOTHESLEY

Kicking the crap out of the punching bag at the gym became your favourite method of stress relief. Channelling all the negative emotions, you excitedly sent powerful, by your standards, punches into the sports equipment hanging in front of you.

You were not a super athletic girl, but rather the opposite, more of a slim and too thin. And very uncoordinated…

The "head with ears", as you called the hairstyle of your favourite character from your favourite game, captured your attention immediately, and you completely forgot about the fact that you were about to be attacked by a freshly beaten pear.

A moment later it did, and you collapsed to the floor with a loud "oh, fuck". Dropping your gloves and rolling over onto all fours, you crawled away from the still swinging punching bag. Your head felt a little dizzy as you shook it out of your eyes. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the red sneakers, which, judging by their size, were worn on a man's feet.

"Fuck," you exhaled, and lowered your head, recognising that in a moment, you'd have to burn with shame.

Resting one hand on the floor, you pushed yourself up to squat. Slowly glancing down at your legs, your black shorts, and then your white sports shirt, you tilted your head questioningly to the side as you noticed the scars on the guy's neck in front of you.

"I can't help you if you're going to sit in that pose and stare."

You could have sworn you were ready to faint when you heard that painfully familiar voice. As you looked up sharply to the guy's face, you realised that surely the pear had hit you on the head too hard, because in front of you stood Wriothesley, the same damn Duke Meropide.

[rea-grimm]

Sleep protector Sabo

It had been several weeks since that incident. An incident where a fire broke out and destroyed the entire building along with many human lives. You were inside when the surrounding glass began to crack and shatter due to the heat.

It was a miracle you even got out alive. Although you had a lot of burns and glass shards in your eye. You haven't seen on that eye since and you had the biggest scar there. 

The wounds from that incident were slowly healing and you even had an artificial eye so no one could tell the difference. You didn't like how others looked at you anyway.

Either they felt sorry for you or they looked at you from which gang you escaped. You didn't need pity. You wanted to be accepted as you were.

You've also been constantly dreaming about that incident ever since. Nightmares kept you awake and forced you to relive them over and over again.

After a few weeks ago you broke up with your boyfriend because of it. It was clear from him that he was attracted to someone else and that he was with you out of pity.

You had the impression that your whole world was falling apart. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't overcome it.

You had the impression that you didn't manage anything at all. You crawled through the exams with your ears scratched because the teachers took your situation and health into account.

Besides, you were in your last year and you were stuck at a dead end with your final thesis. You had the impression that at this rate you wouldn't be able to hand it in on time.

You didn't get any comfort from your family either. Both your parents died when you were little and all you had left was your older brother. However, he lived across the sea and he could not fly to see you.

Through it all, your brother was there for you. He constantly called you and texted you so you wouldn't feel so alone. You knew that if he could, he was truly there for you.

Instead, he sent you a little gift to cheer you up. You were expecting something small, like a postcard, but when you received the package from the postman you had no idea what it would be.

You took the package inside and opened it. Inside was a golden-furred teddy bear in a blue coat and hat with glasses. You noticed that the fur around his left eye was darker.

You took it out and underneath it was a sign with your brother's writing on it.

"Sorry, I can't be with you. I'm sending you this little protector here instead. P.S. Both of you are equally cute. With love, your brother.” you read it, and it almost made you cry.

You took the teddy bear in your arms and rested your head on it. His fur was soft and kept you warm. You had no idea what it was, but you felt calm and safe with him.

You fell asleep fairly quickly that night, but even now you dreamed about that damned fire. You tried to run away from the flames, but you were trapped. You were in the same room where you lost your eye. You curled up into a ball and hid your head in your hands. How long will you have to live with this?

However, no glass exploded and you had the impression that the fire was no longer as hot as before. You hesitantly put your hands down and looked to see what was going on.

The flames slowly diminished and a young man in a blue coat and hat with glasses stood in front of you. He had his back to you and it looked like he was controlling the flames and forcing them to retreat.

When your eyes met, he gave you a warm smile and held out his hand to you.

"Shall we go somewhere else?" he asked you. You hesitated at first as it felt strange, but eventually, you accepted his hand.

"Aren't you hurt?" he asked you as he helped you stand up. You shook your head. “That's good,” he smiled and started leading you out of the building.

He took you to new, diverse and wonderful places full of adventure. He took you to the desert where he compared you to rare beautiful flowers that grow even in the most difficult conditions.

You observed the stars that he claimed shone just like your eyes. He took you on picnics, and boat trips and always treated you like a princess. He made you feel normal again.

You had no idea how much a good night's sleep would affect you. You had a lot more energy and the world didn't seem so dark. Sure, it still had its dark sides, but it was much more manageable.

You would never expect how much a little teddy bear can help you. You were able to focus more on school and on your life, which had been slipping through your fingers until now.

You even decided to attend the prom you originally refused to go to. Although you didn't have anyone to go there with, you still didn't want to miss it. It was your night after all.

But what was worse, what to wear? To mask your eye or not? These questions raced through your head and kept you up late into the night. You held the teddy bear in your arms and wondered what to do with yourself.

You fell asleep only when you had the impression that someone hugged you and whispered to you to go to sleep. That the morning was wiser than the evening.

Despite all that, you couldn't come up with anything, and you weren't even able to rent or buy any clothes. You thought that you probably wouldn't really go anywhere and you'd rather be at home.

You had the impression that you had even confided in the young man in the blue coat about it during your dreams. He looked at you thoughtfully before beginning to describe a dress that would suit you. He described them so beautifully that you were sorry it was just a dream.

However, when you woke up the next morning, you noticed that you had a blue box with a bow on the chair next to your bed. You had no idea what she was doing there.

You sat up and rubbed your eye. To your surprise, next to the big box was another smaller one.

You got out of bed and went over to the boxes. You opened the big one first. You lifted the lid and pushed the pale blue paper aside. To your surprise, there was a beautiful dress like the young man described in your dream.

You took them completely out of the box, walked over to the mirror and put them on top of you. They were seriously stunning.

You were so blown away that you had to try them on immediately. You put them on and admired how they fit like a glove.

Without taking them off, you walked over to the other smaller box and opened it. Inside was an eyepatch with a velvet band and crystals that resembled drops of water falling over your eye on invisible strings.

You carefully took the jewellery and tried to put it on your head. It fits you perfectly and matches the dress extremely well. You also had several accessories at home that matched it too.

As the days flew by, the evening of the prom arrived. You took special care to look nice that day. Just for the feeling that the evening belonged to you and your classmates.

The first half of the evening went by quite quickly and you didn't even have time to worry about anything else. Entrance, toast, raffle sale...

But as soon as free entertainment arrived, you were there alone. So many people in such a small space and you had no one there to enjoy it with.

In addition, a slow song played and couples flocked to the floor to dance. You were thinking of going to get a drink when your eyes fell on a blond young man in a blue suit who looked like he was looking for someone.

As soon as his eyes fell on you, a wide smile spread across his face. You never saw him at school and the only thing you thought was that he must be a friend or a relative of your friends.

His face was covered by a mask, but it still looked incredibly familiar. As if you met somewhere.

“You look especially beautiful today, princess,” he told you, taking your hand and kissing your fingers. You were at a loss for words. You felt like you were in a dream.

“May I have this dance?” he asked you when he heard what music was playing. You agreed and you went to the dance floor together.

He put one arm around your waist and held your hand with the other. Together you swayed to the music and it felt as if everything around you disappeared and it was just the two of you.

You thought that the young man would stay there with you until the end, but when you went to prepare for the midnight surprise, you didn't see him anywhere after that. It shocked you a little, but the memories of dancing together still warmed your heart.

Some days passed since your prom and you were enjoying a bit of peace at home. You wanted to make it more pleasant with a scented candle.

You found one and lit it. A little way from her you had a teddy bear lying down to keep you company.

You had no idea how you did it, but by some oversight, you managed to drop the candle and set the teddy bear on fire. You wanted to save him, but you had no idea that he would quickly catch fire there.

In an instant, nothing was left of him but a small pile of ashes, the candle went out with them, and nothing else burned down. You just stood there staring with horror in your eyes for several long seconds.

Then you started sniffling, tears started to sting your eyes. How could you be so clumsy and burn your brother's gift? You mentally cursed yourself for it.

“My princess shouldn't be sad,” a knowing voice said into your hair as you felt someone hug you from behind. You were startled and turned to see who it was.

“Sabo…” you breathed out in surprise. Is this just a dream? You thought it through. After all, you only met him in your dreams… but you remembered dancing at the prom with him. Sabo smiled at your reaction and stroked your cheek.

"Besides, now I can protect you here as well," he added softly as his eyes fell on the patch you had over your eye. You kept wearing them here and there. You took her to town today and then you forgot about her.

“Princess, you're more beautiful than you think,” he said and removed the patch from your eye. He cupped your face gently, leaned closer to you and kissed you on both eyelids.

“It suits you better this way,” he said, face a few inches from yours. He literally melted your heart.

"Besides, now we match," he chuckled after a while. At first, you stared at him confused as to what he was getting at when it dawned on you. Both of you had scars on your eyes from the fire.

“That wasn't very funny,” you pouted, weakly punching him in the shoulder. Sabo continued to chuckle before he finally calmed down.

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I couldn't help myself. But what I told you before I meant it,” he added honestly before leaning into you slightly.

It was up to you to close the gap between you and kiss him. Your protector.

Sleep Protector Masterlist

One Piece Masterlist

This chapter is for @kath-loves-toast

Amazing art created by @kath-loves-toast

[circeyoru]

The Boy & The Witch = Requested

[Human!Alastor x Witch!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 (here) — Part 2

You heard of the terrifying witch trials from your ancestors, their revengeful spirits and those that were wrongfully accused would scream and cry when the night falls. You mostly couldn’t sleep and would be strolling about in the dead of the night to gather some herbs or sneak into town for some supply. It was one of your strolls that you found the boy in the forest, wounded and beaten

The spirits you befriended avoided an area for reasons of fear and intimidation. You were curious and thought a reincarnation of a witch hunter soul was in the forest, so you went to check it out. You didn’t expect to find a boy resting against a tree with wounds and bruise all over him

You stood nearby debating. It was deep in the forest, any deeper your home would be nearby though it’s protected with charms and the ‘dark’ voodoo magic people fear. Still, it was the state of the boy that made you empathetic. What kind of parents would let their child be such a depressing state? Or let their child this deep in the forest?

So against your better judgment, you stepped forward cautiously, careful not to wake him from his rest. You were unique, more so among your rare kind of witches. You placed a hand over his heart and a white light glowed, his wounds and bruises disappearing slowly. Then you brought him back to your home so he could properly rest

The boy woke up, feeling more refreshed and alarmed that he was not in the forest anymore. He was laying on a couch, his shoes taken off so as not to dirty the sitting. Then he saw you. Perhaps he was still drowsy from his rest, but he felt at peace and warm in your presence. He listened as you explain to finding him alone in the forest and healed him with some special self-made medicine. Then you brought him back to the entrance of the forest before the sunset

It was supposed to be a one time thing. You meeting this boy, then it was back to your everyday life alone in the forest. Yet the boy, whom introduced himself, kept coming back. Perhaps it was a mistake on your part to take him to the entrance of the forest cause now he knew how to go back and front from your place to his home

In his eyes, you were a human choosing to stay alone in the forest in that small but comfortable cabin of yours. You were normal to him. Odd in your life choices. But still, you were someone like a friend, you suppose. You never asked him, but it appeared to be that way since he would return to the forest almost daily

And you had to hide all your spellbooks and anything related to your identity as a witch. You thought it worked

Alastor saw the charms and symbols on random objects, on the path to your home, he’d see some weird drawings as well. Then he tested it out. By then, he had been telling you a lot about what happens around and to him outside of the forest and specifically the bullying and abuse he endured

He grow to love your attention on him, he craves it more and more as time pass with each visit. It was different to the attention his mother would give him and it was a different craving as well, he couldn’t explain it, but it was much like you were his other half that he never had the opportunity of meeting

You appeared to be older than him by a few years, but your knowledge and wisdom of the world was much much more. At first he saw you as an elder sibling. Though the feeling didn’t feel like familial bond. There was something more. He couldn’t place it. Love? No way. You weren’t mean to him like his father and he was coming back to you like his mother, but it can’t be love. Love was unnecessary

While the bully and abuse was described as normal from Alastor, you never saw it that way. The poor boy to endure it all. You snapped when Alastor’s arm was broken and glass shards were sticking out of his wounds, he bit back cries, only sobbing a bit. You didn’t understand why he could still smile

With the snap of your fingers, you put him to sleep, forging his dizziness from the pain he’s feeling, loss of blood, and energy he used to come all the way to you. Then you worked your magic on him, healing his wounds and relieving his pain. You wanted to see who did this to him through his memories but you knew he’d tell you when you wake anyways, so you waited by his side while crafting a voodoo puppet base

The moment the boy woke up, he apologized for passing out and using your home as a resting place. It no issue to you, you’ve gone to care for the boy like a lost baby deer in the forest. You knew, one day, he’d be out of your sight to be free as a bird

“So you mind telling me who gave you such pain?” You asked while holding a sketch pad. You noted down the pointers and drew a sketch of the individuals. One was his bully from school and another was his father. You hummed as you got everything you needed, asking Alastor to give you something that he’d wear the next time he visits

He given you a coat he wears, a bit torn at the edges, but he loves it because his mother made it for him. You added your own touch to the coat. A blessing to protect Alastor from harm, think of it as a lucky coat, you told him, as long as he wears it, he would be more lucky. Meanwhile, to those that would do him harm, they’d be cursed with nightmares one would kill themselves over for that night

“Everyone, I’m sorry to say that we have sad news. A classmate of ours won’t be returning because he had passed away. Apparently he was trying dark magic and ended up… with a bad consequence.” The teacher one day broke the news to the class

The boy turned to the empty seat that was his bully’s, then he looked out the window where the forest would be insight if not for the other building. He kept his composure, but that smile he had widened as je clutched his coat against his form

“Welcome, little one, how was school today?” You greeted him like usual when he visited that day, tending to the plants in your backyard

“It was you. You killed him, my bully.” Alastor spoke so firmly and calmly

You forain innocence, saying you didn’t know what he was talking about. He continued, listing things to be his evidence and to make you crack. You were thinking of keeping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t tell others, but there was that kind human side of you that wanted the opposite of such action, so you continued to listen with a neutral yet intrigued look

He really caught you by surprised with his request

“Please, teach me your ways. You’re human but you have magic, I want to learn dark magic, voodoo. I want to exact my own revenge. It would feel more entertaining and satisfying if it was by my hands!” The look in his eyes and the smile on his face. It told you all you need to know why the spirits avoided him and why they were so fearful of him. This boy was a sleeping demon waiting to break free

You hummed with a small smile, “I can, but I think your name is too pure for someone of your character.” You snapped your fingers, a red staff suitable for the boy appearing. “From this point on you’ll be known as Alastor.” You offered the staff, “Take this and you’ll be learning under me.”

The boy asked, “Why that name?”

A wicked smile formed as you stated, “Man’s defender; avenger. He who does not forget. Tormentor.  It’s actually similar to the name ‘Alastair’, a form of the name ‘Alexander’, which means ‘protector of mankind’. But for you, ‘Alastor’ would do just fine.”

The boy, Alastor, took the staff in his hands and gave it a swirl, feeling its weight before tapping the end to the forest floor and bowed to you as gentlemen would, “Alastor, pleasure to be under your teachings, my dear. Quite a pleasure.”

Note: Love this idea. Been wanting to write something like this, but what came out was {The Spirit's Favourite Human}.

Circe Y.

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