#✧ — you have swallowed the sun / to become fire. */ about.

[yinseal]

your tarot card

the sun

light follows behind your heels.  the daylight yields to your shining face.  it is difficult to compare such radiance to anything but the sun.  bright and warm,  people seem to gravitate toward you for your never-ending optimism and the positivity you exude.  but it tires you,  doesn't it?  the constant smiles,  the ceaseless extension of yourself?  does it not make you burn?  do not allow yourself to fizzle out.

number: 19

upright: positivity, warmth, fun, success, vitality

reversed: inner child, feeling down, overly optimistic

[roanniom]

King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: somno, smut | crossposted on twitter

eddie's loud, he can't help it. in everything he does, he's big & dramatic & commands the attention of the room. it's one of the reasons steve falls for him in the first place. when they're fucking in a tiny trailer with thin walls however it becomes a problem.

it only takes getting caught once with wayne's all knowing stare the next day when steve comes to pick eddie up for a date. he snuck out the window that morning to avoid being found but it turns out eddie's loud mouth did the work for them the night before.

if anything, steve's proud that he can fuck eddie enough that he can't keep his mouth shut. turn his brain and limbs to mush as he rattles out curse after curse, praise after praise. proud that he can get eddie so thoroughly fucked that his name is echoing off the walls.

at first it was cute, bending down to smother eddie's mouth with a kiss to swallow yet another too loud moan. at first they'd giggle when eddie would shout steve's name as he hit his favorite spot that set his nerves on fire. at first steve would whisper filth in his ear hoping he'd take the hint and quiet down to his level, slowing his hips to roll in an agonizing pace. but nothing worked. steve would still pound into him and eddie would still yell like they had the world all to themselves.

"you should just fuck me when i'm passed out," eddie moaned as they took advantage of wayne's overnight shift. "it'll -fuck- it'll be like the best wet dream i could ever have."

steve's hips stuttered as he thought about it, and then picked up even harder when he pictured it. "yeah? want me to keep you quiet, baby?"

it didn't take long for them to finish, took even less time to start round two after they got hard again while planning out the details. turns out they both are a little too into the idea of steve taking him apart when he's asleep.

the first time, eddie wakes up halfway through while steve is blowing him and is too excited to go back to sleep so he resorts to biting into a pillow to keep quiet. the second time, steve's too afraid of eddie waking up again so he settles with fucking into his own fist and then coming all over his bare ass. eddie wakes up while the sun rises to the sheets stuck to him with his cock hard and red which gets them both going again.

they finally hit the sweet spot after a while of trial and error.

they fall asleep curled around each other like they always do, only this time eddie's ass has been thoroughly stretched and steve falls asleep with his half hard cock nestled between his cheeks. when steve inevitably wakes up, skin sweaty where the two are pressed together, the fun can begin.

it doesn't take too long for him to get hard again, it doesn't take too long for him to slip his freshly lubed fingers into his ass, it doesn't take too long for him to get his cock fully surrounded by heat as he slides fully into eddie.

eddie snuffles against the pillow and steve freezes, an excited panic thrumming through his veins, until his boyfriend quiets back down with one final small whimper. he rolls his hips slowly, listens to the ambient noise in the trailer for any signs of someone else being awake and gently brings his hand up to cover eddie's mouth. just in case. just like eddie asked for however many times ago.

fucking into eddie when he's pliant is everything steve could have dreamed up. nothing will compare to being able to fuck exactly how they like to, loud and electric and fast and perfect, but this? grinding his hips with his nose pressed into the back of eddie's head, every inch of him on edge as he waits to either get caught or succeed, is a thrill in and of itself.

he comes probably too fast, too turned on by the whole thing. he comes buried deep in eddie, twitching out every last drop, keeping his hips pressed close. he comes with his mouth wide open on eddie's neck, teeth skimming over sensitive skin, whispering out curses that even the best ears couldn't hear because they're only meant for eddie's.

steve pulls out, sleepy & sated, reaching down to run his fingers through the mess of come & lube that follows. eddie whimpers something quiet & sweet so steve gives him his fingers against his lips like a reward for being good. for being quiet. for trusting steve like he does.

eddie's sore when he wakes up in the morning. he grimaces against the pull in his ass as he goes to stand until he realizes what happens. reaches between his legs to feel how tender his hole his. looks on the sheets and sees where he came against them in his sleep.

he wakes steve up with his mouth. considers it a much deserved payback until he's squirming against the mattress & whines out eddie's name.

"you fucked me?" eddie asks as he pops off with a grin. it's not a question that needs to be answered nor is the next one. "did it work?"

steve groans as he tangles his fingers in eddie's hair, bringing his mouth back where he wants it. mutters out a few curse words as eddie trails his fingers over his balls. "what do you think?"

"i think you need to shut up before i'm the one who has to keep you quiet now."

they have wayne's schedule memorized and eddie uses his standard early saturday morning shift that day as an excuse to make steve get as loud as he can, his name echoing off the walls this time around, driving him crazy with his lips and tongue and fingers.

little do they know that wayne now has his fingers plugging his ears with a grimace, wishing he hadn't swapped shifts with gary for the day, contemplating going in to work anyway to escape his loud ass nephew and his loud ass boyfriend.

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

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[vaamins]

part one.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 : hope you liked this part two. think I could’ve done better 🥹 it was originally meant to be a happy ending but I thought how would hanahaki ever have a good ending? not proofread.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @creative1writings @rmanji @megumisthirdog @jiupark @rjt017 @slvt4erenx @mistymuii @legbouk @asunalinphea !!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 to pristine white, and a flashing light blinding your vision. You peeled your eyes open, finally registering the horrible ache in your throat that sent stabbing pain down into your chest every time you swallowed.

You only knew of blurred moments and the stark red of your blood. The only memories you could recollect of the night before. The night you had coughed up the whitest flower you’d seen in all your life, and it had come from your very stomach.

For some odd reason, the thought didn’t scare you as much as it should have. It was tantalising beautiful in a way that moved the flesh beating within your ribs.

It was a reminder of the love you would never get. The love you were dying for.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, finally taking notice of the room you were in. A hospital room. It’s wall’s so white they were hurting your eyes. You lay hooked to an IV ans countless other machines you didn’t know, and didn’t care for.

How had you lived? The seeding pain that had been in your throat and stomach and chest felt as if you had swallowed fire and were burning from within. You were sure you were going to die, you knew you were going to die. So how had you lived—?

The door creaked open, revealing white hair and blue eyes and a face you knew everything about, but suddenly had become so foreign to you. You had memorised the slope of his nose and the sharp outline of his cheekbones, even the light scar that lay above his right eyebrow one could only see in the dark of night.

‘‘…how are you feeling…?’’ He whispered out, taking a seat beside your bed on the sole chair there. You fiddled with your fingers, twisting the pulse oximeter that lay on your index.

‘‘i’m okay… how are you?’’ Because you had to ask. Because even in your state, you still saw the bags under his eyes and worried for him like a mother fretting over her sick child. Not that you would know much of that either.

Satoru stares at you, then the tubes attached to you and back. His eyes are wallowed in a feeling of sadness you have known all too well. ‘‘…why didn’t you tell us? Shoko? Suguru? Me?..’’

It is ironic to say the least because you know he knows the answer to his own question but he asks anyway. He wants to hear it from your lips, none else, but the regretful look in your eye is too much for him to bare.

‘‘…you know why, satoru. You know why. Don’t… make me say it.’’ You murmur, eyes glued on the view outside the window, watching as the clouds move lazily across the blue sky. It is a beautiful day, you think. One you shouldn’t be suffering on, but when had you ever been able to control the order of things?

Your response is all Satoru needs before he places his white head in his hands, his black shades falling to ground with a clank. The sound reverberates throughout the quiet room in the wake of your answer. You feel sorry. You didn’t want him to grow through such pain and regret.

‘‘…don’t blame yourself Satoru.’’

‘‘…how can I not? When I am the reason you are here? I am the reason you are dying!’’ He croaks out, tears now falling down his cheeks like crystals in the light of the sun shining through the open window. The humming of the machines beside your bed fills your head but still, your eyes are trained on his.

You smile, small and bittersweet. ‘‘It is not your fault Satoru.’’ You grab the hand that covers his eyes, slowly pulling the fingers that dig into his flawless skin away.

‘‘You could not have stopped it. Don’t feel guilty for not loving me back, that isn’t your fault. Now go and enjoy the sun, it’s a beautiful day today.’’

You urge him to leave, not that you want him to leave, no, you would’ve wanted him to stay by your side for eternity but you would never admit that. You wanted him to go and enjoy the day and not be by your doomed side.

He hesitates at the threshold of the door, turning his head back to look at you but you already turned away, your face gazing at the sun, and he wants to say you look magnificent, beautiful as the light falls on your face in just the right places but he decides against it. It would only cause more harm to an open wound. But he count help but feel as he closed the door that there was a certain sense of finality he couldn’t Brian off the situation..

You hear the door click closed, and you feel a pang in your chest. Selfishly, you didn’t want him to go. You wanted him by your side. To kiss you. To show you he loved you like how you loved him but you knew that was a fleeting dream you would never hold onto.

It was sand in your palm and it fell through the cracks between your finger and away, never to be caught again. Satoru was all the colours blended into one at full brightness to you. He was brighter than the sun to you. It was no shocker the room looked so dull after he left.

Later that day, after your friends each individually visited you, wishing you well and health. You sneaked out of your hospital room. The IV and tubes having long been taken off your arms, you walked freely for the first time in hours.

You found yourself on the roof of the hospital, a light breeze passing through the empty place. The night was beautiful, the stars twinkling ever brighter than you’d ever seen them. It was truly a sight to see.

Your eyes were glued on the dark sky, looking and searching for what? You didn’t know but you still kept looking. Maybe it was the hope you had at the beginning of all of this, that maybe you’d get better and somehow be saved, or was it the pain you’d felt from the unfairness of it all.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a cough racked your body, causing you to double over to catch your breath. You hands flew to your throat, as if to ease the coughs you knew would never stop hurting. The pain was horrible, debilitating and you couldn’t breathe.

The sharp ache in your chest intensified as you coughed up something after what felt like an eternity of coughing. Your hand came away from your mouth, stained in deep scarlet.

Lying on the floor was not a flower like how you thought it would’ve been, but two single petals. Even in the darkness, the white of one of the petals was not easily missed. Even from the patches of blood soaking it’s thin material, you could see the colour of snow on the ground. The other petal however, was the darkest black you’d ever seen.

It blended into the darkness and if the white petal had not been lying on-top of it, seemingly glued together by blood, you would’ve never noticed it.

The ache in your limbs intensified even more. The now ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and the world faded in and out in colours of grey, blue and white. You were so terribly tired.

In more ways than others, you thought as you sat down on the ground. Taking a sharp inhale that only caused you to cause more pain shooting down your chest.

You were so irrevocably tired. Tired of everything. It was no wonder when you lay on the cold surface of the rooftop, your head leaning into its coldness, finding its comfort that when you peered up st the stars, finding comfort in the millions of dots of all colours in the sky, that when you closed your eyes forever, that you closed them eternally.

© VAAMINS 24 do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work.

[ist4rgirlo]

────────── 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

they did say that when two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find a way back to each other. however, are you ready to open your heart again to a person who has broken it in the past?

SEQUEL TO : you’re losing me

───────────────────────────

“They say that your first love never dies. You can put out the flame but not the fire”

It was true, for me atleast. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t love Conrad, because I do, I still do — no matter how much he had hurt me before, a piece of my heart is still beating for him.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

It wasn’t easy to move on, he made me feel things — things that I never felt before. He was different, he just was.

For two years, I had done my best to put the past behind me, but still, I would often find myself thinking of Conrad and wondering what could have been.

Until one day, when an unexpected text message popped up on my phone. It was from Conrad, of all people. Confused but curious, I opened the message. The only thing that it said was 'Are you free today?’ Could he possibly still care about me, after all this time?

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I thought back to the words we had said to each other; the heartache that had been so painful that it had taken so long for me to move on. But still, here he was, wanting to see me. Was I willing to open my heart up to someone who had broken it so badly in the past?

───────────────────────────

Conrad asked me if we could meet at the beach near Cousins. I dont know why why I said yes, maybe I wanted closure — maybe I wanted to hear his side.

I stood on the dock, the ocean air getting caught in my hair. Although the sun was out and the sky a brilliant blue,

I couldn't bring myself to take in the beauty of the day. I was too consumed with my thoughts, instead glancing around, distracted and flustered.

I saw Conrad — standing at the end of the shore, a better vision than the view of the ocean I had become accustomed to.

I swallowed hard as I stared into his eyes - the same eyes that had shattered my heart months ago. He looked different. Older, strong, different from the man I had said goodbye to all those months ago.

But there he was, standing in front of me, arms crossed — pain pierced through me like a hot knife as I remembered fond memories I shared with him. Memories that were now tarnished by the hurt he had caused me.

I took a deep breathe and stepped forward — walking towards him.

“Hey Conrad,” I said tentatively.

He looked up with surprise, then quickly looked away. “Hey y/n,” he muttered.

“It’s been so long huh?” Conrad asked. I looked at him before answering “Yeah, It has. I just want to get to the point already. Why did you want to see me?” I asked him.

His eyes met mine, filled with regret and longing. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed, his voice laced with raw emotion.

I listened, my heart warring between the past and the present. Memories flooded my mind - stolen kisses, whispered promises, and the crushing pain of betrayal. And yet, beneath it all, the flicker of what once was remained.

"You broke me," I replied, my voice steadying.

Conrad reached out to gently touch my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Please, Y/n," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "What I did was fucked up, you didn’t deserve that — you didn’t deserve to be ignored, I-I should’ve paid more attention to you”

"I messed up, I admit it. I was a fool to let you go. I've regretted it every single day, and I wish I could turn back time and change things." He said, taking a step closer.

I blinked back tears, trying to resist the pull I felt towards him. "Conrad, it's not that easy. You hurt me so deeply, and I've spent so long trying to heal." I said, backing away from him.

"I know," he murmured, his voice cracked with emotion. "But I'm here now, and all I want is a chance to make things right, to prove to you that I've changed. I want to be better for you.”

His words tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Could we really find a way back to each other? Was it possible to rebuild what had been broken?

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool, baby, with me

The sound of crashing waves filled the silence between us, punctuating the weight of the moment. I looked into Conrad's eyes, searching for sincerity, I’m scared — scared of risking again. Scared of getting hurt again.

“I-I don’t know, Conn-“ I said looking down, he walked closer — his hands reaching for mine.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, just.. just let me love you. Let me be a better man for you.” he paused “I’ll wait for you”

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

I looked up at him, I saw the glint in his eyes — he was genuine, his voice sounded hopeful — his eyes filled with love. It wouldn’t hurt if I tried again right? maybe now, it’ll be right.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[f0point5]

You’re an amazing writer!!! Please do a piece about Emilia being the WORST patient when sick.

Like idk she’s sick during summer break or something but refuses to be sick and is all “I’m not sick!!!” but then it becomes unavoidable so she just becomes the absolute worst sick patient and makes all these crazy demands and stuff and max is just very amused.

Thank you 🫶🫶🫶

I hope you like where I went with it!!!!

✨Set in Australia 2023✨

(He’d build) a fire just to keep me warm

You don’t get sick. So when you wake up on the morning of Australian Grand Prix with a churning stomach and a tightness in your throat for the third day in a row, you take an ibuprofen and a lozenge and get on with it. You fill yourself with orange juice for the vitamin C and even say no when Daniel offers you some TimTams, but you power through.

Sure, you’re tired, but that’s just the jet lag, and you’re a little dizzy, but that’s just the fact that you haven’t eaten properly. You’ll be fine by the time the race starts. That’s what you tell yourself, and everyone in the garage, when they point out that you look uncomfortable.

“This weather is making me all sweaty,” you complain, fanning yourself with spare Red Bull cap even though you’re not even hot, just clammy.

“You’re sweating because you’re sick,” Max tells you, collecting his gloves and water bottle from the small cubby hole behind you.

You glare at him. For the past two days he’s been fussing around you, worried that you have the same thing he had before Jeddah. Even though you’ve been nowhere near as sick as he was. What’s making you feel ill is the hovering.

“Remember when I was sick last week I was sweating all night,” he says pointedly and you roll your eyes.

“And here I thought you’d just found the only Saudi porn channel,” you tease, and Max drops his worry to laugh, which you like. “And I’m not sick. I don’t get sick.”

“Except now,”

You nudge his shin with your foot. “Max, shut up.”

“See, if you weren’t sick, I’d be pissed off with that attitude,”

“Max, she’s not well, be nice.” GP says as he takes the space next to you by Max’s helmet shelf. His eyes narrow as he looks at you. “Do you want someone to take you back to the hotel? You’re looking very pale,”

“No, I’m fine,” you say, harsher than you meant to as you take Max’s water bottle out of his hand. “Just need a drink,”

“You can’t drink from that, you’re sick,” GP argues in shock.

You make a point of unknotting the straw, opening the cap, and taking a long sip of coconut water which frankly tastes like lukewarm bilge water.

You swallow with a small wince and the water actually turns your stomach more. GP looks disgusted, while Max just looks slightly amused as you hand him the bottle.

“I’m not sick.”

****************************

You don’t get sick. So you resist the urge to tell every paddock photographer that stops to take pictures of you sitting with Daniel outside Red Bull hospitality to fuck off. You’re not looking your best by any stretch, and you are starting to come round to the idea that it might be more than the heat. Not illness, per se. Just feeling slightly under the weather, desperately in need of a spa day. You’re fine. Just too spoilt and under pampered lately. It’s a dangerous combination.

“Why are you outside?”

You turn towards the voice to see Lando and Max making their way towards you, fresh from the driver’s parade and already sporting a sun kissed glow.

You’re out there because the fresh air feels like it’s helping, and they’re serving lunch inside. Despite being so hungry you can feel it in your bones, your stomach was protesting idea of food, and the contradiction of your insides was worsening your headache.

But you’re not going to tell Lando all that.

“What happened to you?” He says when they reach your table, a quizzical look on his face. “You look like shit,”

“Thanks,” you tell him, raising your middle finger.

“Lando, don’t be a dickhead. She’s sick,” Daniel chides, winking at you as if that was him having your back.

You groan. “I’m not sick.”

“I think she has the stomach flu I had last week,” Max chips in as he pulls out the chair beside you and sits down.

“Can you get stomach flu from sex?” Lando asks.

“Yeah, like crabs,”

You smack Daniel in the arm and debate reaching for Lando but can’t find the strength to move. “It never stops being fun being the only one in the room who has ever attended a biology class,” you say dryly, unfolding the pair of sunglasses clinging to your shirt and putting them on.

“Anyway, we haven’t…” Max says, clearing his throat as you all look at him. He gestures to you vaguely. “You know, so,”

The boys laugh like they don’t believe him even though they do, and you roll your eyes even though no one can see.

“I can always count on you to focus on the important part, Max, thank you.” You say, reaching over to pat his thigh.

That sets the boys off laughing again.

Jesus, why is it so cold all of a sudden. Are there sweat patches on my shirt. I think I’m going to be sick. No. No, I’m not. Because I’m not sick.

You don’t really pay attention to what they’re talking about after that. The pounding in your head gets worse and it’s hard to follow along with the conversation. You feel like every inch of you in stuffed with cotton balls. Through all of it, you feel Max’s hand on your back, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm. It’s something he only down you’re sick, and not you’re not sick so you should tell him to stop.

You don’t.

******************************

You don’t get sick. The garage is just ridiculously noisy today. It’s so noisy that you have half a mind to see if one of the wheel guns can be used to drill a hole in your head and let out some of the pressure. It’ll be okay once the race starts. You’ll put on some headphones and take another painkiller and it’ll be fine.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to stay in the hospitality?” Max asks.

You’re loitering with him for the last few minutes before he has to get to the grid. Normally you’re teasing him by waving a snack he can’t eat in front of his face or discussing dinner plans, but today you can’t muster the energy, and the thought of food is a step too far.

“You really don’t look okay,”

You feign offence, smacking a hand against your chest with a gasp. “And just think, today is the day I was finally going to give you a good luck kiss,”

“Now I know you’re really sick,” Max snorts, and the offence isn’t as fake this time.

“I’m not sick,” is all you say in response.

“I thought you liked being sick,” he says, slipping his arms into this race suit to shrug it on. “You get to be even more demanding than usual and I can’t even say anything,”

“Yeah, but not…”

Not when Max needs to win this race to stay ahead in the championship. Not when for the last week he’s been recovering from the last of his own illness as well as dealing with several media attacks on everything from Checo edging him out for the championship, to Jos’s reaction to his loss in Jeddah.

You don’t finish the sentence. This is not the time to bring any of that up, just like it’s not the day to be sick.

“Max, I’m fine,” you insist, noting the way his jaw is ticking. Whether he’s worried about you or the race you can’t tell. “And I’m not demanding,”

He scoffs. “Sure,”

He picks up his balaclava, but doesn’t it on right away. He runs a hand through his hair, looking at you and then out to the track and back again.

“If you feel bad just for back to hospitality, or even go and-“

“It’s a couple of hours, less if you drive like I know you can. I feel fine, I promise,” you tell him. Normally, you’d hug him, but you hesitate, shoving your clammy hands into your back pockets. “Now go destroy Checo’s hopes and dreams,”

He laughs at that as he pulls his balaclava over his head.

“I’ll see you at parc fermé,”

*****************************

You don’t get sick. So when Max finishes first after what feels like the longest, choppiest race in history and heads over to his team only to find you missing, he worries. He high fives the engineers with a full smile, wondering if you just decided to stay inhospitality after all. Because you’re not well. He knows you’re not well. When he saw you before the first restart you looked unsteady on your feet, and now you weren’t even there.

It’s Helmut who tells him, over the cacophony of cheering, that you had gone to lie down after the second red flag. Max immediately feels his chest tighten.

He remembers how bad he felt all week when he’d come down with whatever that was. He remembers feeling like his lungs had migrated somewhere else in his body and were being crushed. He remembers everything tasting awful. He remembers the shivering and the exhaustion. It was hell.

And right now, he wishes he could have it again just so you don’t have to.

He’s on autopilot through all the interviews. When he makes it back to Red Bull, he doesn’t find you in hospitality, or the garage. He heads to his driver room to get his phone to call you, barging into the room only to be greeted by the sight of you curled up on the small grey couch in a Red Bull hoodie, asleep.

Something in his chest eases, but only slightly. When he thinks of how bad you must have been feeling to not even finish watching the race and sleep through the noise of the podium celebrations, he gets even more worried. And when he thinks that you spent all that time alone in here because no one was there to take care of you, he feels like shit.

He crouches down in front of you, knowing that he has to at least know you’ll be okay for another couple of hours, because if you even hint at being in any discomfort he’s going to skip the race debrief. Your face is covered in a glow, your cheeks a little flushed, and your breathing is heavier than normal.

“Engel?” He says, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand gently shaking your shoulder. You let out a short groan. “Engel, du musst aufwachen. Es tut mir leid, schatz,”

Your groan again, but this time your eyes flutter open, and Max feels an almost ridiculous relief.

“Maxy?” You smile when your eyes open properly, and you lift your arms over your head to stretch, back arching. You look like Sassy after her mid morning nap. “Did you win?” It’s asked through a yawn as you settle on your side.

“Yeah,” he says, brushing some damp strands of hair away from your face.

“Good,” you say with a contented smile, but it only lasts a second before the pout is back. “Maxy, I’m sick,”

“I know, Leibling,” he says, fighting a smile. He shouldn’t be smiling, you being sick is doing something terrible to his heart rate, but there’s something undeniably sweet about you when you’re like this.

“Can you get me a coke? A Zero, not a Diet, but not from a fridge because I’m so cold,” you say, your voice a pitiful whine.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Max says, surprised that it could be that easy, but it turns out you were just taking a breath.

“And a SmartWater,” you sigh. “If they don’t have SmartWater then some kind of energy drink and a Voss but if you can’t find the Voss then just the energy drink,”

“Yes, I know the water hierarchy,” Max says, thinking to himself that that might be the strangest sentence he’s ever said.

“And a blanket, please, this hoodie is so thin,”

Max nods, getting to his feet, already thinking where in a thirty degree paddock he is going get a blanket, but you’re not done.

“And could you close the blinds so I can sleep until you’re back from debrief,”

He nods, turning to go to the door. He stops halfway. Maybe he should do the blinds first. But the couch is front of the blinds so he’ll need you to move and he doesn’t want to move you-

“Actually, Max?”

Did he say he liked you like this? Yeah, he’s an idiot.

He turns back to you. “Yeah?”

“Could you just sit with me for a minute?”

He melts.

“Yeah,” he says, giving in to the smile this time. “I can do that.”

[sarawritestories]

Umbrella

Rhysand x Fem Reader

A/N I got splashed twice; First by a truck driving through a puddle and then a car did it later on my walk to the train a few days ago, so I needed to put my feelings somewhere.

Summary: You didn't want to leave the comfort of your bed. But the shop needed to be opened. You didn't expect the rain or a speeding cart to run through a large puddle drenching you. Your High Lord finds you on the verge of tears he makes sure to brighten your gloomy day.

Content warning: mild cursing, slight feelings of failure and insecurity

One drop became two, then in a blink of an eye, the sky opened and unleashed a downpour that had you not had your umbrella would have had you drenched in seconds. You knew you shouldn't have left the warmth of your bed or your mate this morning. But the bookshop wasn't going to open itself.

Cassian had offered to fly you to work, but you insisted on walking. Something you enjoyed doing for centuries. He had insisted you bring the umbrella despite the sun rising and a few clouds in view. To appease him, you did, and you were thankful for listening to the general, though you would deny if anyone asked.

The wind whipping against your face made it difficult to walk, this being a more violent storm than Velaris had seen in a while. You stood at the corner of the city about to cross when a cart at full speed barreled down the road. You saw the wheel collide with the deep puddle, watched the water become airborne over your head, and the cold water colliding violently against your body. Your mouth fell open, umbrella still upright as you kept moving, not fully comprehending the events that took place.

By the time you reached your shop, the cold water had seeped through your clothes and provided you with a chill you couldn't escape from. This was not how you wanted to start your day. You swallowed down the tears that kept threatening to fall as you opened the door to your bookstore. Making a beeline to the hearth to start a fire. In hopes you could at least dry the sweater you wore. You held on to hope that the rain would bring in customers who want to cozy up with a book on the gloomy day.

☂️☂️☂️

The hours ticked by as the rain continued to pattern against the windows behind you. The store was quiet, not one person wandered in, either for shelter or to shop. You leaned your head on the counter. The feeling that had been bubbling to the surface for months beginning to consume you:

Failure

Rhysand insisted he buy you this store. "Darling, let me help you make your dreams a reality," he had said as he handed the keys to you and closed your fingers around them. "Go on, my Little Dreamer. Let's go see your new store."

Guilt creeps up to your throat. Your grand opening consisted of the Inner Circle. Azriel bought a few books for himself and one he thought Nesta would enjoy. You hadn't had the heart to tell him that she had that book already.

Rhys was beaming as he looked at the tomes amongst Aisles. His fingers grazing amongst the titles. You could see pride as he wandered every aisle.

A look you now dreaded every time you walked into a family dinner and someone asked you about your shop. You always danced around the answer.

Ding

Your head perked up as the bell from the door chimed, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. Familiar black hair and and tan skin was shaking off his umbrella before leaning it against the side of the wall. Rhysand's smile bloomed on his face causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Even after all these years his beauty still took your breath away. "Hello, Darling." He smiled walked around the counter and pulling you close. His brows furrowed as he noticed your damp clothes. "You're drenched, Love." He turned and noticed the clothes in front of the fireplace, facing you once more his thumb began to idly swipe against your hip.

You sighed, and averted his gaze, "I was splashed by a cart on the way here." You shifted under his touch, "I didn't have enough time to react."

Rhysand hummed, and you glanced over at him and noticed him staring out the window. He smirked, "Close the shop." It wasn't a question.

"Excuse me?" You tilted your head as his violet eyes met yours stars twinkling in his eyes and something, playful.

"Close the shop. Your mate wants to spend the day with you." You opened your mouth and he kissed the corner of your mouth, "No one is right now and all the stores around are closing early today."

You tugged the bottom of your lip behind your teeth. Debating whether or not you could afford to have the store closed. Rhys' eyes turned pleading and he even jutted out his bottom lip that sealed that swayed you. "Okay."

Rhys smiled and slid his hands, to yours. "Great!" And he pulled you away from your counter and headed out side leaving behind his umbrella. You were quick to grab opening it as Rhys ran to the middle of the street releasing your hands. His arms spread out against "Rhysand, what are you doing?" You shrieked as he began to laugh. "You're getting soaked!"

"I can't let you be alone in being soaked to the bone can I?" He lifted his head to the sky and smiled as the water coated the male's skin. You watched him in awe and wondered how often he did this when you didn't noticed, especially after returning from being with Amarantha. His violet eyes bright and twinkling, "Come dance with me." He held out his hand and slightly bowed.

You shook your head, "I should get back inside."

Darling, Rhysand spoke in your mind, Are you really going to deny your High Lord a dance with his Lady? He quirked a brow and you rolled your eyes.

You're insufferable. You thought to him as you closed the Umbrella and ran to him. The minute you were within his reach he lifted you up off the ground and you began to laugh. Once he put you down he gripped your waist, his hands lacing with yours the two of you began to sway. No words needed to be said he just held you and began to dance in the middle of the street. The two of you began to laugh and he spun you out, and when he spun you back, his chest pressing against your back, he kissed your cheek. He held you close and your eyes closed leaning your head against your shoulder. You didn't mind as the rain trickled against your skin.

You're a vision, My Love. Rhysand spoke in your mind. You hummed and Rhys continued to lead into more dances until exhaustion befell on both of you.

☂️☂️☂️

Rhys had brought you some dry clothes as if he suspected you needed them. You smiled as you found he packed his sweater that was your favorite to wear with some shorts. Rhys was sitting by the fire in the book store when you walked in with dry clothes, clean thanks to Rhys' magic. "Feel better?" he asked as you crawled into his lap.

"Always with you, My Love." You paused and threaded your fingers through his hair. He purred at the touch closing his eyes as you continued. "I thought you and Cassian were heading to Windhaven for meetings."

"Devlon cancelled, he didn't want the rain and the wind to mess up his hair." Rhysand joked as he creaked his eyes open.

I frowned and straightened my posture, "Rhysand."

Rhysand opened his eyes and his hand rubbing your back in a soothing manner. "You are more important, Darling."

You shook your head, pushing away as far as his arms would let you, which was not far at all. "Rhysand, you shouldn't have. I got wet. You're High Lord you have responsibilities. I'm-

"My mate," he finished, leaning up to kiss your nose. "You come first. You will always come first." He gripped your hand, placing it over your heart, "Especially when she opened up the bond, and her sadness was so palpable I fell to my knees in agonizing pain. Then Azriel told me that his shadows witnessed what happened. You needed me. I'm here." And that was the end of it. He wasn't willing to budge his priorities, not when it came to you.

You leaned back into his embrace head on his shoulder as he leaned his own on top of yours. The two of you sat in silence. "It wasn't just about the rain today, was it?" His voice was soft and gentle."

"No, it wasn't." Your voice laced with exhaustion.

He kissed your head. "We'll talk about it more in the morning. Right now, I want you to sleep. I'll be here when you wake." He kissed the side of your head as your eyes drooped closed. "I love you, Darling."

You yawned, "And I you, Rhys."

A few weeks later ☂️

The sun illuminated the store, and you were grateful as swarms of people were scouring for books, looking for new adventures to take. You and Rhysand talked for hours on what was needed to turn business around and turned out his frequent visits helped. Everyone wanted to shop where the High Lord did.You took a minute from helping a customer to smile, down one of the Aisles Rhysand stood an apron around his hips helping a customer find a book. His eyes glittered, and his smile brought her customers at ease. He insisted that if he was coming to the shop, he would be on the floor assisting but never missed a chance to glance your way with a playful wink.

You were a lucky female to have a caring, loving, and passionate Mate. Your best friend. Your High Lord.

And he loved his wonderful, beautiful, brilliant Book Shop owner.

Fin.

[rynwritesstuff]

Unknown - Part Two

Billy The Kid x Reader

Warnings: Smut (PIV sex, unprotected sex, brief dirty talk, no female orgasm), softness, TW: attempted assault (NOT by Billy), misogyny, murder, comfort/fluff, confessed feelings, happy ending <3

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You and Billy find yourselves in a dangerous situation, which causes feelings to surface.

Read part one here!

“Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? That I’d walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you?” - Unknown/Nth, Hozier

Billy is, to say the least, annoyed with you. Traveling with someone for nearly two weeks will do that, you figure. You let him talk to you as you gather wood for a fire. You’re silent while he rants, going on and on about how his body aches, and how hungry he is, and how desperately he just wants to find another town. You don’t respond, and this only irritates him further. 

“Say something!” Billy says. You glance at him. He doesn’t often become angry like this, you’ve come to realize, but when something sets him off . . . He gets pissed. 

“Jesus, what the hell d’you want from me, Antrim? I’m just getting wood, minding my own damn business, and you–” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know, you’re the one who wanted to come this way! Why haven’t we found anything? We’re running out of food!” 

You shake your head. 

“We have at least two days’ worth.” 

“And when we go through that? Hm? What then?” 

“Then we hunt, Antrim. We adapt, we make do.” 

“You know that there’s not much to hunt out here. We both know that,” he says, following you around. You crouch down to start a fire. Sometimes his age shows during moments like this one. He’s still a kid, still so angry at the world and the cards he’s been dealt. You sigh. 

“Then, fuck, I don’t know,” you snap. “I don’t know, okay?”

He scoffs, pulling his hat off and tugging at his hair. 

“Fuck,” he huffs as he turns away. You get the fire going, then stand and turn to him. His eyes don’t meet yours. You pull on his suspenders. 

“Look at me,” you say firmly. He does. You sigh. “We’re gonna be fine. You need to pull yourself together. I know you’re mad, Antrim, I am too, but we can’t lose our heads. Got it?”

He swallows harshly. He likes it when you talk to him like this, when you re-ground him. You’re the anchor to his ship, the light that shines through the fog in his mind. He glances at your lips. You know what he needs, now. He needed to be snapped at, and now he needs to let go. 

It’s been a few days since the two of you were last sexually active, and when you look into Billy’s eyes, they are dark. You give his suspenders another tug, your chests nearly touching.  “I said, you got it?” you repeat. He nods. 

“Yes,” Billy says quietly. “I got it. ‘M sorry–” 

“Don’t be,” you say, shaking your head. “There’s no point.”

You let go of his suspenders and instead rest your hands on his firm chest. You can feel his heart racing, beating quickly, and you know it’s because of you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, it’s for you. 

His arms hang at his sides, and you take hold of his wrists and guide them to your hips. He holds you firmly as you reach back up to touch his shoulders and chest. 

“Tell me what you need,” you say, even though you already know. You want to hear him say it. 

“You,” Billy tells you. “Whatever you’ll give me.”

You smile softly. He’s handsome. Dreamy. 

“You know you’ve got me, Billy,” you say. He kisses you, then. It is firm, and his lips are chapped and rough. You sigh quietly, gripping his collar and pulling him closer. He knows how you like this: Rough, quick and dirty. Secretly, though, part of him hopes that he’ll one day get to make love to you, not just fuck you.  He wants to know you deeply. Not just your body, but your mind. He knows what kinds of things you like to eat, and he knows that you don’t like rising with the sun, and he knows that you’re unfathomably stubborn, but . . . It’s not enough. He needs to know what your dreams are. Do you want children? A house? A man? Will you long for freedom for the rest of your life, or would you one day settle for the right person? 

He needs to know where your parents were from, and what your favorite toys were when you were small, and how you like your tea. Small things. Big things. Well . . . He supposes that all things are ‘big things’ when it comes to the way he thinks of you . . .

You push his suspenders from his shoulders as the two of you kiss, then reach down to press your hand against his clothed erection. He grunts softly at the slight friction, and moves his hips forward. He says your name, quiet and desperate, and you nod. 

“Take me,” you tell him, taking a small step back to remove the clothes from the bottom half of your body. While you do this, Billy pulls his cock free from his trousers. You get down in the grass, and Billy easily gets on top of you, fitting himself between your legs. You cup his cheeks and kiss him, desperate for his touch. You tug on his hair. 

“Need you, Billy,” you breathe. And oh, how Billy loves to see you like this: Vulnerable and open and ready for him. He nods. 

“I know,” he says, pushing his leaky tip against your core. You groan as he eases himself inside of you. He stretches you perfectly. You’re so wet, and he’s got precum dribbling from his cockhead, and the feeling of it makes him grunt. He takes your hands in his and pins you down like that. He’s been doing this more and more often, you’ve noticed. You smile softly, the softness of the moment lasting only for a second before he begins to rock his hips back and forth. You cry out as his cock rubs the sweet spot deep inside of you, your grip on his hands tightening. 

“Billy!” you moan. “Ohhh f-fuck . . .”

Your body bounces beneath him, and he groans at the sight.

“Fuck . . . Such a good girl,” he breathes, voice shaky and quiet. His words go straight to your aching core, and you clench around him just to hear the choked sound that he makes. You smirk. 

“Y-Yeah? You needed this, didn’t you, Billy?” 

He nods. 

“Uh huh.” 

“How bad? H-How bad did ya n-need me?” 

“O-Oh, fuck . . .” he groans. “So b-bad . . . Mmm . . .”

You nod, tilting your head back. Billy takes the bait and leans down to suck and nibble at your throat. You sigh at the feeling. He continues to hold your hands, keeping you gently pinned to the ground. 

“Takin’ me so well,” Billy breathes. You hum. 

“You’re close already?” you ask shakily, the pleasure in your core building as he sucks at your skin. He grunts. 

“H-How did you–?” 

“You’re – mm – getting s-sloppy,” you breathe. You turn your head and capture his lips with yours. He chuckles against you, moving his hips faster. 

“G-God . . . Fuck . . .” Billy groans. You squeeze his hands. 

“Cum f’me, Billy,” you tell him softly. “C’mon . . . W-Wanna see it . . .” 

He nods, then quickly pulls his cock from your heat and jerks himself off above you. With a drawn-out moan, Billy cums, his seed covering your rising and falling stomach. You sigh at the sight, and when he finishes, he tilts his head back. You smile, leaning up on your elbows. 

“So handsome,” you tell him, gesturing for him to come closer. He does, and you put your hand on the back of his head to pull his lips against yours. You sigh as you kiss him. 

“Mm. That felt good,” you tell him. Billy smiles at the praise. 

“I’m glad,” he says. You wipe his seed from your stomach, then shakily get to your feet and re-dress while Billy tucks himself away and adjusts his clothing. You sigh once the two of you are both righted. 

“Feeling better?” you ask, stepping back towards the fire to warm your hands. He sits down beside you. 

“A bit,” he says. He sighs, then looks over at you. He admires you, taking in your features in the dim, flickering light. 

“Good,” you say. “If you need something like that, all you havta do is ask, you know.” 

Billy nods. 

“I know.”

Silence lingers between the two of you for a handful of minutes. 

“Do you want to eat?” Billy asks you. You shake your head. 

“I’m not really hungry.” You yawn. “I think I’m gonna rest.” 

Billy nods. 

“Alright.”

He watches you rise and pull the blanket from his saddle bag. You lay it down, then get comfortable on top of it. Billy looks away as you close your eyes to sleep. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. He’s never not going to think so. 

You fall asleep quickly, dozing off easily knowing that Billy is here to keep you safe and watch over you. 

***

The sound of skin hitting skin is what wakes you. A groan follows, and you hum softly as you sit up a bit, glancing around in confusion. 

Another hit, another groan. 

You look over, and your stomach drops when you see a strange man standing over Billy. Billy tries to fight back, tries to get swings in, but the man is bigger, stronger. Another man stands beside the first one, and as quietly as you can, you begin to reach down into your pocket where a small pocketknife sits. 

Adrenaline pumps through you. The second man notices you, and he nudges his friend, the one punching Billy. 

“Lookit,” he says, pointing at you. They both look over, and you let out a shaky breath. Billy is yanked to his feet as one of the men storms towards you. You scramble to get away, but he’s already on you, pulling you up. You struggle to get away, kicking and thrashing, but he wraps his arm around your throat and holds you in place. You gasp, your air suddenly being almost completely cut off. Billy watches in horror. 

“Don’t,” he says and blood drips from his nose. The man near Billy has a knife to his throat, which keeps Billy from moving or making an attempt to rescue you. “We have money, take that instead.” 

The man holding onto you hums, running his free hand over your chest as you claw at his arm, trying to breathe. 

“How could we pass up such a pretty little thing?” the man says, squeezing your breast. You hiss, trying to stomp on his foot. Billy tries to break away, but the knife is pressed harder against his throat, drawing a bit of blood. He yelps. 

“Stop!” Billy exclaims desperately. “Don’t touch her!” 

“Oh, I’ll do more than touch her,” the man says, suddenly shoving you to the ground. You groan, gasping for breath. He’s on you before you can try to run, and he yanks at your trousers. Without thinking, you shove your hand into your pocket and pull out your pocketknife. In a swift movement, you reach around and shove it into the man’s side. He cries out loudly, and you pull the knife out and plunge it back in again and again. 

Seconds after you do this, Billy catches the other man off-guard and pulls his gun on him. The man takes off without a word, knowing that a knife is nothing against a gun. You cry out as you stab the man repeatedly. He groans in agony, blood soaking his clothing and yours just the same. Billy rushes to you, grabbing your arms gently and pulling you away. 

You’re trembling, head spinning and heart pounding. You try to break away. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” Billy says quickly, pulling you into his arms as the man writhes on the ground. You turn, clinging to Billy’s shirt tightly.

“I-I . . .” 

“I know,” he breathes as you shake against him. He holds you, one hand between your shoulders and the other on the back of your head. Tears fill your eyes. 

“Billy,” you breathe. It’s all you can think to say. Billy’s head throbs, nose still gushing blood, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s never seen you so afraid, so shaken, and it breaks his heart. You didn’t deserve this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

You let out a soft cry. You can’t even bring yourself to answer. The man groans and shakes in front of you and Billy, and Billy shields your eyes. He has half a mind to shoot the bastard in order to shut him up, but his cries die out steadily. The life drains from his eyes as he loses more and more blood. 

You let out a shaky breath. 

“Are you alright?” Billy asks again softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I . . . Yes. I think so.” 

He nods. 

“You’re alright,” he reassures you. “You’re safe.” 

Guilt is eating away at him. He should have done something. He should have shot the men right away, he should have fought his way out of it to protect you. His grip on you tightens slightly. You let out a shaky breath. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, wiping a bit of blood from his face. He nods even though he isn’t, not really.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he tells you. You nod, then glance back at the dead man beside the fire. You look away, burying your face against Billy’s chest. 

“We should go,” you breathe. He nods. 

“I know.”

Neither of you move. Billy presses a kiss to the top of your head. God, he was so scared. He isn’t sure what he would have done with himself if the man had taken you. He’s glad he won’t have to know. You wrap your arms around Billy’s middle and let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more,” Billy says finally. You pull away slightly and look up at him. You shake your head. 

“He had you cornered, Antrim,” you say softly, shaking your head. “There wasn’t much you could’ve done.” 

You lean in and kiss his cheek. 

“It’s alright. We’re alright.” 

He nods, letting out a shaky breath. 

“I’m always gonna do my best to protect you,” he says. “I’m sorry that I–” 

“Stop apologizing,” you say quietly. “Please. It’s alright. I’m alive, you’re alive, we’re okay–”

“I care about you," Billy says quickly. You pause. “I . . . I care about you. I’d die if somethin’ happened to you.”

You search his face. He means it. Oh, god . . . He means it. 

“Billy . . .” He swallows harshly and looks away. You cup his cheek and tilt his head up so he’s looking at you again. “I care about you, too.” 

A small, barely-there smile tugs at the corner of Billy’s mouth. 

“You mean it?” he asks. You nod. 

“You know me, Billy. I wouldn’t lie.” 

His smile widens, and he kisses you gently. You hum against his mouth.  “I know.” 

[yinseal]

anyways time to talk about sakura’s xingese heritage and family while living in amestris and also how this ties in to her modern verse + her familial relationships, under the cut as always for length. art cred.

to sum up one of my earlier posts on sakura’s heritage, i personally headcanon that xing went through periods of political instability as a direct result of the heir deliberation         that rival clans competing to get their heir chosen as the next emperor could and did have adverse consequences on the population of xing. this would cause native xingese to leave the country for safer territory and,  knowing that there did at one point exist a trade route between amestris and xing,  many xingese would have escaped into amestris when the country was not yet closed off.  in amestris,  the xingese would form a close-knit community that offered protection and support for each other.

once amestris locked down and unleashed its full xenophobic and racist face,  many xingese and other minorities would have either fled the violence,  or settled deeper into society,  trying fervently to blend in.  once the trade route was destroyed,  the xingese in amestris likely had no other option but to hide their cultural identity,  maintaining links,  but otherwise spreading out to avoid detection from the amestrian dictatorship.

i headcanon that sakura’s paternal great-grandparents were one of the last xingese to come into amestris before the borders were locked down.  on both sides,  her family maintained links to their xingese culture,  but outwardly presented strong amestrian display.  

sakura’s parents met and married in amestris,  and outwardly presented a fiercely patriotic,  dogmatic stance in the amestrian military        prompted in large part by their residing in central,  which had the largest military presence and strongest anti-foreigner stance.  there had been discussion of moving elsewhere in amestris,  but their livelihood was tied in large part to the restaurant owned by them;  without guarantee of income,  success elsewhere seemed unlikely.  

many xingese born in amestris were given traditionally xingese names,  and more traditional  “amestrian”  names to blend in.  sakura’s parents were kizashi and mebuki haruno,  respectively;  they adapted the names  “hiram”  and  “margaret.”  this is keeping in with the jewish influence in the fma universe  (  hiram being a reference to the king of tyr and the ally of king david,  margaret  being of both greek and persian origin.  )   

notably,  kizashi and mebuki chose not to give sakura an amestrian name,  choosing instead to keep her xingese name entirely.  the elder harunos were notably terrified of the amestrian military and went out of their way not to provoke them,  so the naming was unusual;  nevertheless,  their daughter didn’t fit any whitewashed namesake,  and it felt like a small,  safe rebellion in an overly complicated and painful dictatorship.

sakura was raised in private xingese faith and cultural practice         she was fluent in xingese,  and lived as both a xingese woman and an amestrian.  she experienced a bit of a distance from her heritage as she grew older;  part of it out of natural caution towards the amestrian military,  but a part of it prompted too by the death of her mother.  mebuki was,  in many ways,  sakura’s foil and her twin flame;  both of them immensely stubborn,  both of them loyal and bound by their bonds,  both of them driven to succeed.  mebuki,  who had sacrificed so much of her own identity to stay safe and keep her family safe,  irked sakura as a child;  as an adult,  sakura could fully grasp just how much her family had suffered to live here,  and to give her a start.

living on her own in dublith,  sakura’s cultural ties to xing become reduced to small habits she never thinks about         brewing tea like her mother did,  her grandmother’s kimono kept safely in the attic,  swearing under her breath in xingese when she burned herself on the stove.  her heritage is placed on the backburner;  she did not,  strictly speaking,  look fully amestrian,  but she did not present as  “foreign,”  and her medical skills were such that anyone who might have asked questions chose to look the other way.  protected by both her own amestrian upbringing and her valuable skills,  sakura simply responds to anyone foolish enough to ask that she and her family were amestrian,  born and raised,  no other identity possible.

when the war in amestris ends and the xenophobic practices begin to fall away,  sakura finds herself for the first time free to celebrate her heritage and culture.  her father,  still cautious after so long,  never manages to discard his  “hiram”  identity,  but he delights in having grandchildren who learn their old language,  and xingese no longer being a dirty secret to hide.

sakura remains in touch with much of her family,  both maternal and paternal,  and writes to them on occasion,  but also forges new bonds as she opens her practice in dublith.  doctor marcoh becomes a surrogate father to her as they travel amestris;  discovering his betrayal is something that shocks and infuriates sakura worse than her own mother’s death.  sakura also becomes close with izumi and sig curtis,  who live just a few blocks down.  originally helping out as a doctor for izumi when her regular physician is off,  sakura becomes a surrogate daughter to the curtis’,  who gleefully accept her growing family as their own    (  including greed,  whom izumi never lets forget broke her hand.  )

ultimately,  sakura chooses to embrace both aspects of her identity         ethnically,  culturally,  and racially,  she is a xingese woman,  but she also firmly identifies as amestrian,  albeit an amestrian that  she  defines.

this translates over to modern verse,  where sakura is a japanese woman born and raised in america.  her father was first generation american,  and her mother was born in japan and moved to america;  sakura often navigates the divide of being a japanese-american,  and the frustrations that comes with.  although her family does not hide their japanese heritage,  sakura is encouraged to embrace american identity politics,  to give her an equal chance in a still prejudiced and racist society.  sakura is far more open and proud of her heritage,  but she does not like to be defined  solely  as a japanese woman:  like being a woman,  or a doctor,  or having green eyes,  these are  parts  of her,  but not the entire identity.

[wh0re43van]

Maneater- (Jimmy Darling X Reader)

Summary: it’s your first week at the freakshow as a sword swallower and fire eater. Almost everyone has taken an immediate liking to you, especially Jimmy. (Literally only wrote this because I want to deep throat Jimmy)

Warnings: smut, blowjob, kinda public

Word count: 2.3k

I sit on the edge of the wooden stage in the main tent as I clean my swords. the small amount of afternoon sun leaks in through the openings of the red and white canopy, bringing the blistering Florida heat with it. I absentmindedly wipe the sweat on my brow with the same rag I’m sanitizing the sleek metal with, then immediately break into a fit of coughs as the fumes from the rubbing alcohol choke me out.

‘This heat is melting my brain’ I think to myself as I catch my breath as best I can in the hot sticky air. You’d think as a fire breather I’d be used to it, but this August haze is brutal.

Being from New England originally, this suffocating humidity is a far cry from what I consider comfortable, but a gig is a gig. Elsa was more than pleased to hire me when I pulled up with a unique act and my own caravan last week. I’ve worked with a lot of carnies in my day, but the group here is truly one of a kind. Almost everyone took an immediate liking to me. Ethel did her best to make me my favorite dessert as a welcome gift, Desiree insisted on taking me shopping, and Eve has let me sleep in her caravan with her for the week since mine isn’t yet hooked up to electric or water.

“Not even a dog should have to sleep in this heat without a fan,” Eve insisted. All the women have quickly become my closest friends, except for-

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Maggie’s shrill voice cuts through the thick air with ease as she stomps into the tent.

“What are you on about now?” I roll my eyes as I set my swords to the side, walking down the rickety wooden steps that creak under my weight.

Maggie has given me shit since the first time she saw Jimmy flirting with me, which was about 30 seconds after my arrival. Her and Jimmy seemed to have some sort of relationship which he assured was “purely casual”, but Maggie doesn’t seem to agree.

“You have Jimmy out there in this heat wave crawling around messing with your stupid trailer! He could have a heat stroke,” the ‘psychic’ scolds me. I step up to the mousy bitch, adjusting my bathing suit top and brushing the dust off my denim shorts.

“He volunteered to do that for me, so mind your own fucking business… Ya know, in all the carnivals I’ve worked at, I never met a medium that couldn’t take a fuckin hint,” I say lowly, glaring at her. Her face goes red with anger.

“I don’t see how Elsa could hire such an ill-mannered hussy. You surely aren’t doing any favors for the reputation of the show,” I can tell that she’s trying to remain composed, but her voice comes out a shrill whine.

“This hussy earned over 500 bucks in the first four days I was here,” I remind her, laughing at how stupid her attempt at a come back was. Maggie tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

“I’m surprised you even charge money for your act since you prance around here with your tits out shoving shit down your throat for free,” she small lady growls, motioning to my bathing suit top for emphasis.

‘Damn’ I’m a bit shocked by this statement and it shows on my face, but I scoff before pulling the corner of my mouth into a smirk.

“Why don’t we ask Jimmy-“ I begin, but I’m cut off by Jimmy himself.

“Ask me what?” he smiles as he takes a gulp of water out of the glass in his hand. The energy in the room immediately shift as both of us turn to look at him, plastering fake smiles on our faces as we adjust our outfits and hair.

“Ask you, uhm, how you always manage to get such a crowd when you work the carousel. It must be all the girls wanting a ride with you,” I let out a nervous giggle, nudging the bitch to my side. She nods and laughs unconvincingly. At least we can agree on how embarrassing it would for Jimmy to hear us bickering over him like schoolgirls. Luckily, he seems none the wiser to the cat fight that he just accidentally broke up.

Jimmy chuckles as he walks up to us, leaning against the base of the stage. I don’t make any effort to hide my lingering scan of his body. His worn-out blue jeans and white tank top that’s clinging to his toned chest with sweat is covered in the orange dust of Florida’s crust. The veins in his arms are prominent on his slick sun kissed skin that’s dotted with smears of what appear to be grease.

“You’d see me blushing if my face wasn’t sunburnt as all hell,” Jimmy flashes his dimples as he runs his conjoined fingers through his sweat drenched curls. “I’m glad you’re here Maggie, Elsa’s lookin’ for ya,” he informs the blonde. She seems to be happy just to get the smallest bit of attention from the boy.

“Oh, okay. Why don’t you come to my caravan in a little bit. I have a surprise for you,” she says to Jimmy, but her eyes are locked on me, unfortunately for her, Jimmy’s eyes are also locked on me.

“Uh sure Doll, go on now. Don’t leave Elsa waitin’,” the boy says, eyeing me up and down with a grin as he motions his head towards the exit. Maggie smirks at me as if this is some kind of feat before walking out of the tent.

“So,” I smile as I boost myself up on the stage, dangling my feet over the side. “What can I do for you?” I bat my lashes at the sweaty boy.

“I need your pretty hands for one last thing and then you should have electricity,” Jimmy hums, then motions to my swords on the stage. “But if you’re trying to rehearse,” he walks over to the first row of collapsible wooden chairs, taking a seat. “I’ll take my payment in the form of a private show” he leans back, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow. I smile mischievously, standing up and grabbing the three dull swords.

“Well That’s not fair to you,” I tisk as the metal clanks in my hands in. “I’m not even in costume,” I smirk as I pace to the center of the stage.

“Oh trust me doll, this little number you have on right here compliments you just as well as that corset and stockings you dance around in,” he smirks as his drift from my legs to my face, earning a grin from me.

“Well I’m not gonna argue with that,” I laugh before clearing my throat, starting my monologue.

I tun through the first half of my 15 minute routine, Jimmys attention glued to me the entire time. He watches intently as I easily drop two swords down my esophagus, and twist them around before pulling them out one by one. My epiglottis burns as the metal slides through the small opening. I wipe the spit from my mouth, taking a bow as Jimmys applause bounces off the canvas walls.

“Thank You,” I giggle, my voice comes out a bit hoarse as I kneel down by my torches and lamp oil, then I notice I don’t have water to wet my rag. “Gentleman in the front row, could I borrow that glass of water,” I grin, using my ‘show voice’. He happily hops up, bring the glass to the stage. I crawl over to the edge, then sit up on my knees so that my face is even with his. “Thank you, sir,” I grin, holding Jimmys gaze as I take the cup from his hands, brushing my fingers over his.

“I’m honored to be involved in the act,” he breaths as he reaches out, running a thumb over my lip. I grin before licking a strip up the digit, making his eyes go wide.

“If You really want to be a special guest, come join me back stage,” I hum, leaning forward as I take his other hand in mine, tugging him a bit. Without a moments hesitation Jimmy hoists himself up on the stage and pulls me just behind the curtain before he crashes his lips into mine, pinning me to the wall

“You don’t know the things ya do to me, baby,” Jimmy pants against my lips as his hands grab at my body desperately. I giggle into the rough kiss and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” I hum as I reach between us, running my hand over his obvious errciton. Jimmy moans, bucking his hips towards the contact.

“Can ya blame me?” He chuckles lowly before moving his mouth to my neck, leaving wet kisses over my sweaty skin. “It ain’t often that I get attention from a dime like you,” he chuckles lowly against my skin as his large hands grab my ass.

“I guess todays your lucky day then,” I giggle as I turn Jimmy around, pushing his back into the wall. “I just want to thank you for working on my caravan for me,” I purr as I slowly drop down to my knees. His eyes watch intently as I pop open his belt buckle. Jimmy swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his mouth hangs agape.

“It’s my pleasure, honestly doll. You don’t have to do this-” Jimmy protests weakly as he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. His breath hitches when I abruptly yank his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, his heavy cock springing out of its confines.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I smile before licking a strip from base to tip, Jimmy sighs at the contact. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” I bat my lashes at him as he looks down at me, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. “Plus id rather practice on you then those other swords anyway,” I smirk before taking him into my mouth.

He throws his head back, a low growl bubbling from his throat in satisfaction. Jimmy looks down at me with a slack jaw as he watches me take all of him in my throat until my nose is flush with the small patch of hair around his base. His hand finds its way to the back of my head as I begin bobbing up and down on him.

“Just like that, Doll… holy shit,” Jimmy hisses as his face contorts in pleasure. I giggle to myself as I wrap my arms around his legs, allowing him thrust into my face.

My knees dig into the unfinished wood of the stage- sure to leave splinters- as Jimmy violates my throat. His chest starts to heave as he finds his rhythm, filling the tent with low moans and my gagging.

I look at Jimmy through blurry, tear stained vision and I swear I could cum right now. His eyes are screwed shut as his mouth hangs open, letting out the unholiest of sounds I’ve ever heard. His strong arms, shiny with sweat, are flexed so hard that I can see veins popping out of them as he holds onto my hair like his life depends on it.

As Jimmy is lost in pleasure, completely oblivious to anything else around him, I hear shuffling in the side entrance of the tent. I’m about to pull away when I hear Maggie’s whiny voice.

“Jimmy are you still-“ she asks before she freezes, her face goes pale as her jaw drops. The boy doesn’t doesn’t even realize that he’s cutting her off when he moans,

“Jesus Christ baby, I’ve never seen someone look so pretty while gagging on cock,” his voice is breathy and low, but Maggie definitely heard because seconds later she shrieks before running out of the tent. “What was that?” Jimmy asks, slowing his hips, he looks down at me with glazed eyes, as if he’s in another dimension. I pull Away, gasping for breath as I take his slick cock into my hand, breaking the thick strings of spit.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” I giggle, still trying to catch my breath as I slide my hand over his length. “I just want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Can you do that for me?” I hum as I place his tip between my lips, licking lightly. Jimmys eyes flutter as he groans, watching me rub him over my lips.

“Jesus Christ,” is all he manages to groan before he’s thrusting back into my mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax. Jimmy is a cursing, sweaty mess as his cock twitches on my tongue before shooting his sticky release down my throat. I moan at the sensation as he pulls out, falling limp against the wall. “Come here,” he pants out, barely audible as he grabs me up off the floor, pulling me into a wet sloppy kiss. I grin against his lips as hands move to the buttons on my shorts.

“Uh uh,” i tisk as i slap his hands away. He looks at me confused. “This was my payment to you,” I smile as I fix my outfit.

“And Im more than grateful,” he chuckles as he pulls his pants back up. “But id like to return the favor, doll,” he smirks as he reaches out to try to pull my into his arm. I step the side before turning to leave.

“Oh you don’t have time Jimmy. I think Maggie’s looking for you,” I smirk before giving him a peck on the cheek. I can feel his gaze burning into my back I was down the rickety steps and out of the tent.

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[cordeliawhohung]

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.

warnings: PTSD, angst, anxiety/panic attack, blood, hurt/comfort

wc: 7k

Simon was always good with a gun.

Well, not always, but he learned quickly after he joined up. Countless hours were spent down at the range, cleaning, loading, aiming, shooting, working on his technique and stance; becoming a lethal and effective killer. Practice makes permanent, and he found himself using a handgun to shoot several yards at a target at an outdoor range, which felt wrong. The distance was much too far, and he couldn’t even tell if he was hitting his target effectively, let alone if his grouping was alright. 

That wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. His M1911 felt too light, even with a full magazine, which seemed like it held too few bullets. He swore he loaded nine rounds in, but could only squeeze the trigger three times before the slide was stuck open, telling him he was dry. So he’d reload, rack the slide, and try again just for the same events to occur. 

Eventually, he got frustrated. Too damn far to see the target properly, and he certainly had faulty equipment, so he holstered his gun and glanced around the area, defeated. The range itself was proper, but something seemed off about it. It was his feet, constantly slipping on something, and it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized it was sand. Desert-like sand, but it seemed too moist. Was he at the beach? 

“Did I not say I would find someone who would make you talk?”

Simon turned around so quickly he swore his neck would snap. It was Bukin. Always Bukin. He grinned like a hyena with rotting teeth and a decaying core, and his chuckle was just as sour. An unexplainable rage began to smother him at the very sight of that creature, and his fingers twitched as he reached for his gun once more. 

“You don’t deserve her,” Bukin continued as Simon aimed the muzzle of his pistol at him. “She would’ve been better off with me.” 

A single shot echoed in the air, but there was no ringing in his ear, or crack in the distance. His gun didn’t jump, and Bukin still stood as if a bullet had never been fired in the first place. In anger, Simon stomped towards the man, gun still pointed at him, and pulled the trigger another time. Once more, there was nothing but a single shot and no blood. 

“Or maybe you should have never had her at all,” Bukin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest, unphased. “You had to have known it would happen, yes? Death follows you everywhere you go, Ghost. It was going to get her eventually.” 

The stiff end of the muzzle pushed against Bukin’s sternum, and Simon held it there firmly as he pulled the trigger once again. He had gone through the actions so many times. He knew what it sounded like when the breath was torn out of someone after the impact of a shot. Where was the thud of Bukin’s body? Why was the light still in his eyes? 

“Ghost?”

Simon turned around at the sound of your voice. There was a small waiver in your tone that made his stomach drop, and he could feel his heart scream and shatter at the sight of you. Hands covered in blood, trembling lips, tears pouring from your eyes as you clutched your chest. You stared at him as if begging for him, as if he was the only person in the world who could save you. 

When he tried to take a step forward, he felt his feet starting to sink through the sand, like the earth was trying to swallow him whole. Legs straining, he tried to push through, climb across the land and claw his way to you. You continued to stand there, hand clutched to your chest, blood flowing impossibly fast through the wound. Had he caused that? Or had you always been like that? Broken? Bleeding? Why did you look at him like that? Like you were forgiving him? 

Sand swallowed him up to his waist by that point, and there was so much blood soaking the ground he couldn’t tell how much of it was yours, pouring from your wound, or his, pouring from his nails; broken and ragged from clawing to get to you. The worst part was, there were no hands holding him back, no biting words degrading him. Nothing in the world was stopping Simon from saving you except for himself. There was more blood than earth by that point, and the roaring sound of the ocean waves drowned out your crying and begging. 

Eventually the earth felt pity on Simon, and the sand swallowed him whole. 

Simon hardly needed to set alarms those days. His body did all the work for him, consistently waking him up with a frenzied jolt. A thick layer of sweat permeated his sleepwear, and he could feel strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. A terrible, chest rattling drum pounded in his body, and he could feel the way his ribs heaved in order to steady his heart. 

The first place he turned to look was to you. Fast asleep on your side of the bed, the only clue that you were even alive was the subtle movement of your shoulders with your soft breathing. He knew he should have been happy to see you sleeping so peacefully, but when his eyes settled on the bottle of Ambien on your nightstand, a sour taste soiled his tongue. 

Turning his attention to one of the windows, Simon took notice of the dull spring sunrise peeking through the curtains as he sat up. It was soft and white, like there were too many clouds in the sky for the sun to shine properly. It was only a matter of time before your alarm woke you up for work, and though he usually liked to stay around until you left, something was telling him to run. Run, fight, scream, because then at least the pounding in his chest would make sense. 

Instead, he turned back to face you and your sleeping form. So soft and quiet underneath the covers, hidden away from the world that was much too cruel towards you. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, and not even that stirred you out of your sleep. Still, it made him feel a little better as he slipped out underneath the blankets and began to dress himself for the day. 

One day the bed would grow warmer. He’d wake up with you in his arms again, smiling up at him, and his nightmares would finally fade away. But he was too afraid to cut you on the broken pieces of himself, and he was tired of seeing your blood. Your happily-ever-after would come someday. Eventually. Just not that day. Not while he still failed to save you, even in his dreams. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Once again, the sound of Jace’s shoes were driving you up the wall. The man had grown partial to wearing a full suit at work, for some strange reason, which only proved to annoy you even further. Strutting around in his charcoal grey suit all important-like while he breathed down the necks of every poor girl that worked there. He wasn’t a creep or anything, just much too enthusiastic about his job, and with no concept of personal space it didn’t take much effort for the man to irritate you. 

Luckily, you were working on fixing a jam in the cash dispenser, which meant you were mostly out of your manager's line of sight. It was a difficult jam, something that couldn’t be fixed by simply opening the side panel and yanking the paper cash out by hand. Grime built up on money too easy, and the tips of your fingers had turned grey just from handling what little cash you had managed to yank out of the dispenser. No wonder that shit got jammed; there was so much dirt and dust stuck in that machine. Did anyone even bother to do any cleaning while you were gone? 

You nearly laughed out loud at that thought. While you were gone. Why did you make it sound like you were gone by choice? Would it have been easier if you had just gone willingly? Would it have saved you from the pain?

No. No, you were at work and you needed to focus. There was no room for you to slip away, to go back to that house, that beach, that orchard, any of it. Your hands stilled on the machine as you took a shaky breath. No room for emotions; just for cleaning. 

You stepped away from the machine for a short moment, trying to change your focus to something else while you reached for a can of compressed air. It made quick work of the dust and buildup crammed into the sensors and circuits of the machine, and you watched as it swirled in the air around you. A tingling sensation settled deep in your nose, and you tried not to think about the adverse effects that inhaling literal human grime and greed would have on your health. 

Jace’s shoes hit against the stone floor of the bank again. Their terrible click-clack sound was not at all similar to boots on wood, and yet you still found yourself looking up towards the ceiling. There was no second floor to the building, no rooms above your head. Nothing but bright lights and fancy fixtures greeted you, and you found yourself swallowing hard as you looked back down at the dispenser. It was an instinctual reaction, something you couldn’t stop yourself from doing, and yet your heart raced all the same. 

Sniffling, you shook your head and continued messing with the machinery in front of you. After opening a few more panels and removing a few parts, you found where the worst part of the jam had occurred. Someone didn’t check the cash well enough for slight tears, and it had gotten caught on one of the belts and torn, leaving a large pile of money behind it waiting to be processed. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you reached into the machine to pull the disfigured money out, and you did your best to ignore it as you started to close everything back up. 

Something cracked behind you, and you froze. It was nothing more than someone scooting back in their chair, and you knew it. It was a sound you had heard plenty of times at work. You knew what it was, and yet your body didn’t. Your body heard it as a thump above you. A chair toppling over after someone shoved it in anger. Then it was followed by footsteps. Boots on wood. Stalking towards you as the sound descended downstairs. He was right on top of you. Right behind that door. Waiting to tear you apart. 

Then his hand was on your shoulder. Always touching you. Always grabbing you like he owned you, like you were nothing more than a pet to him. Maybe you had been. No, you were less than that; you had just been livestock. An animal he tried to use to keep himself alive, something to bargain with. And his hand was on your shoulder, ready to take you away to be slaughtered. 

“Hey, are we getting anywhere with this j-?” 

When you turned around, you led with your elbow, and it collided with something squishy, followed by a yelp. Your eyes landed on your manager, Jace, who stood in front of you, doubled over as he held his nose. Blood splattered on the ground, staining his fingers as it poured uncontrollably from his nose. You looked down at the mess and noticed he had gotten some on the tips of his shiny, annoying dress shoes. 

“Bleeding fucking christ,” he said through gritted teeth. 

All you could do was stand there in shock with your hands hiding away your mouth as you looked at the mess you caused. You wanted to be angry, you deserved to be angry. He fucking touched you when a simple question could have easily gotten your attention. But he was bleeding, all over the floor, and when he looked up at you with involuntary tears in his eyes, you found your stomach churning with guilt. 

“What the fuck was that?” you asked. You tried to sound large, but your voice only shook as you lowered your hands away from your face. 

“What?” Jace asked, peeved. His voice was congested due to the blood he was trying not to choke on. “I should be the one asking you that! You broke my fucking nose!” 

“Do you know how to talk to people without touching them?” you retorted. But your voice gave away what strength you tried to fake. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop shaking. 

“My apologies, didn’t realize it was a bloody crime,” Jace muttered, the sarcasm almost covering his anger. 

Even after all that time, it was always the same. Greedy hands on your waist in a bar. Vile hands holding your wrist, threatening to shatter it. The hands of your idiot manager trying to get your attention. Each and every time you knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t have been touching you like that, and each and every time you were the one to blame for it. 

It was always the same. Nothing had changed. 

Different voices, kinder voices, tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of your terror. That pulsing mass of muscle in your chest, or the hyperventilating of your lungs. Sometimes your chest ached so terribly you thought you would die, and that’s how you felt in that moment. You’d just keel over on the stone floor and drown in the blood you accidentally spilled over a fucking panic attack.

So you left. You hadn’t even fully realized you were leaving until you were outdoors where the bitter spring rain almost instantly soaked you to the bone, even through the thick fabric of your blazer. There was the vague sound of the bank door opening behind you, but you ignored it and kept walking and prayed that whoever was behind you would leave you to be devoured. 

Your walk home felt like a blur; like you were just some puppet with her strings being pulled. There wasn’t a single action you had taken the last few days that actually felt like your own will. You had turned into a simple bystander for your own life. People said that spring rain washed away everything so that there was room for new growth. The only thing you felt in the rain was cold, and it certainly didn’t wash away the anger that tried to strangle you or the sobs that choked you. 

When you arrived home, everything was quiet. Usually Simon was there to greet you, but you also usually spent more than two hours at work. Really, it was for the best that he wasn't there anyway. He had always managed to find you in such vulnerable states, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him seeing you like that. Soaked to the bone, uncontrollable tears falling from your eyes, having probably just lost your job after essentially assaulting your manager. 

It was a coo that caught your attention. Brought you back to reality, if only for a moment. It came from Boo, of course, who stood near your feet. He looked slightly disgruntled at the small puddle of water that had gathered around your feet, like he wanted to rub against you but didn’t dare get his paws wet. You wished you had his ignorance. 

You felt bad for doing so, but you left Boo by the entrance as you pushed deeper into the apartment, headed straight for the bedroom. Your blazer was peeled off of your body and you carelessly left it in the middle of the hallway before hiding yourself behind a closed door. It didn’t take Boo long to track you down and attempt to paw at you through the gap under the door but you just couldn’t. He was an ignorant cat, and still you wouldn’t put him through the horror of watching your breakdown. 

A squelching sound followed every step you took as you walked to sit on your side of the bed. The utter anxiety and pain in your chest had diminished but you could feel it slowly being replaced by a terrifying numbness. In order to preserve itself, your body had placed itself into some sort of limbo, and you didn’t know what to think of it. 

Sighing heavily, you wiped at the moisture on your face, unsure if it was from your tears or the rain. When your vision cleared, your eyes settled on the bottle of pills on your nightstand. A half empty glass of water sat next to it, almost enticingly. Fucking Ambien. You shouldn’t give in, and you knew that. You’d fuck up your sleep schedule even more than it already was. But whatever was happening, whatever it was that was going on inside of you, you didn’t want to be conscious for it. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Smoking after any sort of physical training was certainly a terrible idea, and Simon was fully aware of this, yet he didn’t care enough to stop himself. So he stood outside, close enough to the building that the rain didn’t get him too wet, despite the fire laws that went against it, and puffed away. He hoped the rain would wash away any lingering scent of nicotine from his clothes. 

He worked harder than he should have, and his body paid the price for it. Achy muscles plagued his arms, legs, and for some reason his core, even though he hadn’t focused on it all that much. Progress was slow, and he was still further away from his old self than he liked. A part of him wondered if he would ever see combat again. Did he even want to after everything that happened to you? Could he stomach leaving you again, not knowing if you’d be there when he came home? 

The thought of leaving you made him sick. 

It didn’t take him long to finish his cigarette, and he shoved his mask back over his face before venturing off into the storm. Noon would roll around soon, and he figured he’d need to eat a big meal after the hours he put in at the on base gym. After suffering through mid-day traffic for longer than what felt legal, Simon arrived home where the rain was just as unrelenting. Avoiding the moisture as much as humanly possible, he dove into the apartment. 

A small puddle of water greeted him at the entrance, and he found his eyes narrowing at the sight. Was there a leak? Dark eyes glanced up at the ceiling, worried the roof wasn’t holding up, yet there didn’t seem to be any sign of cracks or a burst pipe. Sighing, he slipped into the kitchen where he removed his mask and coat and set it on the counter. His pack of cigarettes peeked out of his pocket, as if trying to tempt him to take another, but he ignored that thought in favor of leaving to grab a towel to clean up the mess instead. 

Simon hardly took a step into the hallway before he froze. Something was wrong. A sopping wet mess of clothing sat in the center of the hallway, and a ring of water settled around it. It wouldn’t be good for the flooring, but that was the least of his concerns. The door to the bedroom was closed tight, and Boo laid on his side, nose peeking underneath the crack as best as he could. Simon ventured a few steps closer, catching the attention of the impatient feline, and he instantly hopped up and trotted up to the man, meowing. 

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, leaning down to gently scratch the cat's ears. The question was playful, but it didn’t help the uneasiness that had an iron grip on his stomach. 

Boo followed Simon to the door and was the first to dash in the moment it was opened. Your sleeping frame was the first thing he noticed, and if he didn’t know better he would have thought you hadn’t moved at all since he left in the morning. But you were on top of the covers rather than under them, and in your work clothes instead of pajamas. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes. 

Concern didn’t even begin to describe the mess of feelings swirling in Simon’s head. You were supposed to be at work, not a soaking, unconscious mess in bed. Carefully, he approached the side of the bed where he tried to assess you as quietly as possible. No marks, your breathing looked and sounded okay, your eyes fluttered like you were in deep sleep; you looked fine. But you weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and he didn’t like that. 

 Maybe he should have left you alone, but he couldn’t stop the hand that reached for your shoulder. Your clothes were still moist, and his skin stuck to your dress shirt as he gently shook your shoulder. You were icey to the touch, and he tried not to flinch at the feeling. 

“Sweetheart? Hey…” 

His voice was so soothing it had to be a dream. No, not just his voice, but everything. It all felt so far away and muted, yet so close, as if something was clawing inside of you, trying to get out. Lungs expanded with a deep breath, your eyes fluttered open, and your vision was completely obscured by Simon. He knelt on the floor next to the bed where he leaned forward so that his hand could brush against your cheek. It was only then that you realized how cold you were. Damp clothes clung to your body as if trying to suffocate you, and your muscles attempted to turn into stone with how stiff they were. It was like waking up on wet grass. 

And it all came back to you. The crunching sound of your elbow smashing a nose, the panic that footsteps stirred in your chest, how you couldn’t be touched without feeling Bukin instead. You stared at Simon with glossy eyes, and you tried to open your mouth to speak but stayed silent instead. His concern only grew at your silence, and you watched as the proof of it etched onto the features of his face. He looked at you like that so often you were certain his face would be stuck that way. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked softly. Everything he did was soft when it concerned you. Like he feared he would shatter you. 

“I… don’t know.” Your response spewed out of your mouth before the thought was even formed. The Ambien you had taken shrouded your mind in murky water, and you weren’t sure if you should be grateful for it or not. Neverbefore had you ever felt so light and heavy at the same time. 

With an odd burst of energy, you sat up and Simon’s hand fell from your face. It was as if no time had passed at all. You had just been stuck in some sort of limbo and thrown right back into reality the moment you had woken up, and fuck did it hurt. A heavy dryness overwhelmed your throat to the point you were certain your vocal cords would crack, and there was some evil creature running around wreaking havoc in your head. 

“I’m gonna get some water,” you said as you scooted towards the edge of the bed. Each word that you spoke felt too big for your mouth, but you let them tumble out anyway. 

An uncomfortable squish sounded as your still soaked shoes hit the floor, but you ignored it as you pushed yourself to your feet. Boo curiously paced in front of you, eyes trained on your face as if he too was attempting to read your mind, but you ignored him as you wandered out of the room. 

You hadn’t realized Simon followed behind you like a lost dog until you reached the kitchen. Before you could even reach for a cup, he had already gotten one down for you and was at the sink filling it up. Rain continued to fall just as fiercely as it had been during your walk home, and you could feel the low grumble of thunder reverberate through the entire complex. 

“Did you walk home?” Simon prompted as he held the cup for you to take. He was trying to test the waters. Trying to figure out why you were home, but not fully there with him. In a way, you reminded him of himself, half awake, walking around the house smothering toothpaste on his face in a traumatic driven daze. 

“Yeah,” you answered bluntly. Sniffling, you raised the cup to your lips and took a small sip of water before continuing. “My manager was just, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I’m probably fired anyway.” 

“Fired?” Simon repeated, the disbelief obvious in his voice despite how hard he tried to keep his tone neutral. 

You really didn’t want to talk about it. Because you could say that you smashed Jace’s face with your elbow, and you could say that you didn’t like the sound of his shoes, or how he touched your shoulder. That was easy. Those were facts. What you didn’t want to explain was why. Why you responded with such violence, why the sound of his shoes ignited some deep fear you tried to smother, what you were reminded of when he touched you. 

So you looked around the kitchen in an attempt to distract your brain enough to come up with a lie. You had always been so terrible at lying, and you knew Simon was aware of that fact, too. Eyes focusing around the room, you looked everywhere as long as it wasn’t at Simon. An old grocery list held up by a magnet on the fridge. The slightly cracked handle on the microwave. Simon’s jacket bunched up on the counter. 

A boiling heat rumbled in your chest when your eyes landed on a small cartridge that slid halfway out of the pocket of his jacket. At first you thought your eyes attempted to play a trick on you. Something that the Ambien made you hallucinate. But the more you focused on it, the clearer it became; as did that anger that threatened to engulf you. 

“Have you been smoking?” you asked, eyes refusing to tear away from his jacket. 

Simon followed your gaze, and the muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. You didn’t even give him time to answer before you set your cup of water on the counter next to you and snatched the cigarettes out of the jacket. Why did the sight of it make you so angry? No, you knew exactly why. You just kept playing dumb with yourself. Every time you thought about it, you were transported back in time to where the scent of it clung onto Eric’s clothes. How it burnt your nose when he got close enough you could smell it on his breath. It was the first thing you smelled when you woke up on the ground after Adakskin beat you. That terrible smell had haunted you for years, and you didn’t think you could stand it if it started following Simon around, too. 

You marched over to the bin on the other side of the kitchen, and Simon called after you but you didn’t respond. Every muscle in your body had grown so taut that you had slightly crushed the cartridge before you tossed it with the rest of the rubbish. A restrained and frustrated sigh left Simon as he reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was something exceptionally irritating about not getting answers. Sure, he was used to people holding out on him during interrogations, but allies had more or less always been truthful with him. You had always been truthful with him. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful seeing you struggle and not knowing how to help. 

“Sweetheart. Love, look at me,” Simon urged. It took everything in him to keep his voice mellow, to not get too frustrated. Like Gus had said, you didn’t have the same tools going into all that like he did. Eventually you did turn to look at him, eyes already growing wet. His gaze softened as he relaxed the muscles in his shoulders and face; it was the closest you had ever seen him to looking truly sad. “Talk to me.” 

Every emotion that you had forced into dormancy began to erupt in that moment. All the anger you tried to swallow, the grief you tried to bury, the disgust you felt towards yourself; it all came up to the surface. The pounding headache in your skull didn’t help with the tightness you felt crushing your chest, and for a moment all you could do was muster a defeated shrug, hands bumping against your thighs. 

“I don’t know how to,” you admitted in frustration. “I don’t know how to talk to anyone anymore. I want to. At least, I think I do. But, fuck, sometimes I think about what I want to say and I sound fucking insane.” 

Pausing for a moment, you reached your hands up to rub at your face. It was difficult to tell if it was because of the Ambien or not, but everything felt fuzzy. More than it normally did those days. Your thoughts, your words, your movements, it all felt unreal. Even so, a flood had started. Everything had been building up inside of you for months, nearly crushing your organs with the pressure, and it felt like there was nothing you could do but watch it pour out of you. 

“Like, I was fucking kidnapped. That sounds fucking crazy, like something you’d see on a true crime show, not- not something I’m supposed to experience,” you continued, pulling your hands away from your face. “And it’s weird because for a while I was just some sort of trophy for them. Something to taunt you with and it- it was fine when it was just that but fuck Simon he- that crazy bastard he-” 

Words failed you, and you choked back a sob as you bit into one of your knuckles. Simon braved a step towards you as the tears started to stream down your cheeks. Somehow, talking about what happened was more painful than actually experiencing it. 

“He didn’t even do anything serious so I feel like an idiot for even freaking out about it but I can’t- like- fuck, sometimes people touch me and it’s him. It doesn’t make sense but it’s just- it’s him and it terrifies me. Every footstep I hear sounds like it’s above me even when I’m in a single story building, the smell of cigarettes reminds me of waking up on the fucking floor.” 

You choked on the snot building up in your nose and you paused for a second to sniffle and wipe away the uncontrollable swell of tears that fell from your eyes. Something in you urged you to stop talking, to just shut up before you said something you regretted, but you couldn’t. There was no dam in the world strong enough to hold back everything erupting inside of you. 

“Sometimes I think about how he touched me, dressed me in his coat, the things he said to me and I feel disgusted. He ruined me. I can scrub at myself as long as I want and I still feel it. I can’t get clean. I know it doesn’t make sense but I don’t know how else to explain it,” you continued. 

Simon only grew closer, slowly, as if he was trying to coax a wild animal into his grasp. Maybe that’s what you had become. Some feral beast that took too much effort to love. He was close enough for you to grab, and you wanted to so badly it ached. You wanted for him to reach out and swallow you whole because maybe then you’d finally be clean. 

“And I want to tell you everything but I feel so ashamed to be alive right now,” you sobbed. “He ruined me. That sounds so fucking stupid but he- I wished he had been worse. I really, really do. They fed me and kept me alive and kept me clean like a goddamn pet when really the whole time I wished they would have killed me already because I felt like I was betraying you by being unharmed. But they didn’t. And I’m still alive, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be because I’m not- I don’t think I’m really here.” 

There it was. Bubbling in the back of your throat. The confession that felt like it would kill you if you admitted it out loud. But there was no stopping it. All you had ever done was watch your life go by from the sidelines anyway. 

“I can hear something that reminds me of being back there, and I know. I know why it scares me and what it reminds me of. I can reach out and talk to you because I know- I hope that you still love me after everything but I just can't because I’m not really here. I’m still in that fucking basement, Simon. And I want to be here with you, and I want to feel better but I’m stuck there.” 

You hadn’t realized how close Simon had gotten to you until his hand brushed against your upper arm. That was the last straw. Whatever composure you attempted to hold together shattered, and a moment later you found your face buried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so firmly it was like he attempted to hold you together. When your knees gave out underneath you, Simon fell with you. Gently, he lowered the both of you to the ground so that you sat in his lap while he leaned against the cupboards under the countertop. 

Each sob rattled your body so violently you were sure you would break apart then and there, but Simon wouldn’t let you. His hand engulfed the back of your head where he kept you close to his chest, rocking you ever so gently. There was something bittersweet about the way he kissed the top of your head, how he buried his face as best as he could into the crook of your neck. He held you until your body was finished rocking your world with wails, and even then he still continued to hold you. 

“There’s nothing in this world I care about more than you,” he spoke once the waves settled. “I wanted to tear the world apart when I realized you were gone, and I thank whatever sick creator we have that you’re alive. I’m not gonna judge you for doing what you had to in order to survive. It’s not gonna make me love you any less.” 

His confession nearly had you sobbing all over again, but you bit into your lower lip and forced yourself to keep your composure. You weren’t sure if you even had many more tears left to shed, anyway. 

“You should have never gone through that at all, and I’m sorry you did,” he continued. The hand on the back of your head adjusted slightly, gently moving your shoulder back. Taking his hint, you leaned back some and looked up at Simon. His thumb ghosted along your cheek, wiping away any remaining moisture. “We’re gonna get you through this, yeah?”

It felt impossible. Getting through it. Getting better. You wanted to deny it, claim that healing was meant for people who were still mostly whole. But you wanted to get better so badly it hurt. You swallowed and sniffled some as you nodded in agreement, and moments later he pulled you back into his chest once more. 

That was the first time that you really felt like you were home. Crumbled on the kitchen floor in Simon’s arms. There was something lovingly tragic about it; about being destroyed and still having someone to love you. It was a promise. The kind that couldn’t be broken. So when he pressed yet another kiss to the top of your head and mumbled the words, “I love you more than anything,” you believed him. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been months since Simon had last seen you smile. Truly smile. Yet there he was, sitting on a log in the middle of the Forest of Dean watching you giggle as you dipped your hands into a small stream. The August heat was unrelenting, even through the canopy of foliage overhead, and he watched as you rubbed the fresh water up your arms. The two of you were roughly two hours into your hike, and it had been awhile since he had last seen you so energetic. Each waving flower, small critter, and neat rock had to be enjoyed, and you made sure to point out everything worth seeing. 

Digging his canteen out of his bag, he took a deep sip of water as he watched you pick rocks out of the stream bed. You’d run your fingers over it, cleaning off any clinging dirt so that you could enjoy whatever colors were hidden underneath, and then place the item back in the water where you had found it. Even though your back was turned to him, he could still imagine the grin on your lips.

The last few months that you had been in therapy had been treating you well. There were some things that were still difficult, old wounds that would never quite heal right, but you laughed more often, and talked as if you had never known a moment of silence in your life. It felt nice. Better. Things would never be back to how they used to be, though sometimes he wished they would, but it was more than enough to hear you laugh again. 

A gasp left you, and Simon watched as you slowly straightened into a standing position. Knowing that he was about to be beckoned over, he hid the canteen away in his pack once more before sliding off of the log he had been using as a bench. 

“Simon, come look,” you said quietly, as if afraid to disturb something. 

With careful feet, he snuck up by your side where he was quick to notice what had caught your attention. A small dragonfly had perched itself on the tip of your forefinger where its wings glinted like church windows in the obscured sunlight. It stayed remarkably still for a creature that chose an excited human to rest on. You whispered how beautiful it was, how the blue of its body mirrored that of the sky, or how the pattern on its wings could be put in a museum. 

Once it had its fill of compliments, it fluttered off of your finger and back into the heart of the forest where it vanished from sight. You stood there for a moment with Simon by your side, the toes of your shoes just kissing the crystal clear stream water by your feet. Everything was fresh, warm, and real. Nature surrounded you on all sides, and it was the most free you had felt in a long time. 

“I’m excited,” you suddenly blurted out, attention turning to Simon. “To move into our new place.” 

He hummed in response as his hands found your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. Smiling, you leaned into him with the palm of your hands flat against his chest. He looked at you with such adoration, like even after all that time the two of you had been together he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. 

“It’ll be a good workout. Lifting all those boxes,” he quipped with a slight smirk. “For me, anyways.” 

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and swayed in his arms, yet your gaze found its way back to those lush, dark eyes of his. As if your bodies were magnetized, his lips found yours in a sweet, deep kiss, and the warmth of the sun couldn’t even compare to the warmth that ignited inside of you. And it felt nice, beyond nice, being able to kiss him without fearing you’d taint him. You could hold onto him, and lean your head against his chest when the kiss was done, and you were there. You were there in Simon's arms in the midst of a forest and nowhere else. 

“It’ll be dark soon if we keep going at this rate,” you sighed contently as he gently swayed you back and forth. 

“I’ve got a flashlight,” he said. 

“‘Course you do.” 

“Always prepared.” 

Another playful eye roll followed that comment, and the two of you slowly separated from one another. After recuperating, you started down the trail where you once again continued pointing out every single little thing that caught your attention. Simon watched on with a small smile and offered cheeky comments when it fit just so he could hear you laugh more. It was freeing to be out there in the fresh air, away from the noise of the city. It was even more freeing to know that soon you would be in a place where everything felt different and clean. Soon, you and Simon would be able to start over again, and you couldn’t help but grin to yourself at that thought. 

As far as you were concerned, each step you took along that trail was another step closer to getting out of that basement.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here @spookyscaryspoon

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[gxthicupid]

Hi can I request a macaque and wukong with a s/o that is the mother of dragons like Daenerys Targaryen from games of trones

Ps: if you haven’t seen of games of thrones I got to say it’s good

୨⎯  𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑺 [𝑺𝑾𝑲 & 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒙 !𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓]

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴀɪꜱɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ, ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴋᴇʏ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪx-ᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴄᴀQᴜᴇ?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ <3

➨ Long ago, one winter season, a devastating snowstorm erupted, plaguing the world in an ever-lasting blanket of snow, hail and cold air from the sun's warm rays.

➨ The skies were no longer a comforting hue of blue but a lifeless grey colour. At the same time, all signs of life were extinguished and left nothing but the skeleton of living creatures, only to be forgotten by the gust of wind and snow, leaving it for the land to swallow.

➨ Unfortunately, you were stuck in a forest of death, with the trees' remains that were nothing but hollow and sculptured of their slow agony through the winter. You have lost your way from your home and feared the worst as you continued your path and saw the aftermath when death will sooner or later catch up to you.

➨ In an attempt for survival, you've stomped and held onto the snow below your feet and, with squinted eyes, found a cave nearby, which will keep you warm and safe from the blizzard. Finally arriving, you plopped down in exhaustion and tried gathering a pile of leaves and sticks scattered around the floor to make a campfire.

➨ As the wood crackled and popped crisping sounds, you decided to let your eyes wander around the cave, a glimpse of an abnormally large egg was clenched in the darkest corner. Feeling sympathetic, you decided to allow this egg to sit with you in the warmth radiating from the fire, and with each passing second, you fell asleep with the egg held in your arms.

➨ The morning came, and the snowstorm seemed to be put at a halt; with tired eyes, you looked down at your arms and saw that all you were holding were eggshells.

➨ Worried, you looked around the cave and noticed a dragon cuddling and sleeping on top of the extinguished campfire, and you couldn't help but crack a smile at such an adorable sight. From that moment on, you decide to care for this baby dragon as if you were their mother.   

𝗦𝗨𝗡 𝗪𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗡𝗚

➨ Several years have passed since that life-changing moment. Your dragon has become an adult, growing their spikes and adult scales, wings and maximum size span, and they were so big that you could ride on them.

➨ Speaking of, both of you were flying across the vast ocean to arrive at Flower Fruit Mountain, as it would be the first time you would introduce your dragon child.

➨ You and your dragon child flew through the clouds and dodged mountains and all the lava-covered cliffs, and as you got closer, you admired the graceful and lush view of the Monkey King's home that had begun to appear across the land.

➨ Finally, you arrive at Flower Fruit Mountain, and it looks beautiful once sunset hits. The sunlight engulfed the scenery with a vivid orange, making all the greenery pop perfectly to catch your attention, along with the bold colour of the mountains surrounding the main peak with a crystal-clear waterfall.

➨ The sound of water falling into the bottom pond below was relaxing once you and your dragon landed near the entrance. You could not contain your excitement and began to squeal and giggle the moment you were about to call Wukong.

➨ "Okay, Okay." You tried to calm yourself down to avoid suspicious behaviour in front of Wukong when he got here. "You hide over there, and when I signal you when you can come out, alright?" You spoke to your dragon, and they began to find a spot behind some trees and reciprocate whether their hiding spot was good or not.  

➨ "That's perfect!" You gave a thumbs up for reassurance, and then you began to call out for Wukong and try to spot that cheek monkey. After several attempts, you thought he was not here and sighed a defeated huff. Upon walking back to your dragon, before the arms of a familiar simian.

➨ "Peaches! Good to see you." The one and only Monkey King, Sun Wukong, hugged you from behind as you felt his tail wrapped around your waist affectionately. On the other hand, you nuzzled your cheek against his while gently caressing his face. "Hey Wukong, how's my gorgeous king doing?~" You replied lovingly as you gave him a peck on the nose, and instantly, his fur puffed and a shade of pink rose on his cheeks.

➨ "I'm fine, Y/N, but what brings you here? I don't remember inviting you to come over today." Wukong sounded confused about your unexpected arrival, so your childish smile came back, and you began uncontrollably giggling to yourself as Wukong gave you an abashed look.

➨ "So. . .do you remember I mentioned a surprise guest?" Upon hearing these words, a memory flickered in Wukong's brain from recalling the thought. "Yeah? What about it?". You turned around, placed your fingers on your lips, and whistled loudly before a rustle in the trees and bushes was heard, and your dragon emerged from their hiding spot.

➨ You turned around and waited for Wukong's reaction - and it was priceless. His mouth was left open in awe, while his eyes widened from shock and somewhat intense from the unexpected surprise.

➨ Your dragon approached you in a giddy mood, rushed up to you, and begged for head scratches, so you obliged. "So, what do you think? Pretty neat, huh?" Suddenly, your dragon galloped towards Wukong and gently nuzzled its scaly cheek on the Monkey King's face, mimicking your affection towards him.

➨ Of course, Wukong was taken aback but quickly recovered and began to laugh and have fun with your dragon. "You kiddin'? My lover is an awesome dragon raiser!" He then proceeds to hold you by your waist and happily swing you around as your dragon happily spreads one of its wings around the both of you. Once he lets you on the ground, he kisses you on the lips adoringly.  

➨ "Man, where did you find this little buddy?" He then got comfortable to lend a hand onto your dragon's neck and scratch its spiky chin. "I found them all alone in a cave when they were an egg, and their mother wasn't around, so I took them in." You then used both hands to cup your dragon's cheeks and gently pressed both of your foreheads together while, in return, a low and quiet hum was heard from your dragon.

➨ A look of sorrow washed over Wukong's delighted face in seconds before giving your dragon a sympathetic look. "Woah. . .Sorry there, bud." Your dragon began to cuddle with both you and Wukong. "It's okay. They're doing fine." You continued to play so tenderly as if they were your child, and Wukong watched with heart-shaped eyes and a loving smile.

➨ That's when you noticed him and his tail wagging and those lovestruck eyes, and you felt your heart skip a heat or two. "What's up, Wukong?" You questioned him as he seemed lost in his own world before he spoke, "Y/N. . .You surprised me. And that's what I love you for - that you show something new and amazing to me, and I can't help but fall in love with you again~" His words were so honest while his voice sounded smooth, and a bright blush came upon your face as your face felt hot.

➨ He came up to you, hands on hips, and your arms rested on top of his shoulders before you felt like the world didn't matter anymore. As you both gaze into each other's eyes, sparks are felt between you too, and slowly, you went forward for a deepened kiss.

➨ His hands slowly caressed your sides and back while your hands slithered up his and massaged his head.A fuzzy, romantic feeling swelled up in both of your hearts. At the same time, Wukong began to chirp softly and tenderly hold onto you as you continued to satisfy him and his craving for your touch.

𝗦𝗜𝗫-𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗤𝗨𝗘

➨ Heavy, grey clouds covered the city of Megapolis like a canopy. At the same time, rain poured down gently, creating a calm and peaceful melody in the air. The damp smell of raindrops satisfied your senses whilst you walked around your neighbourhood and carried a bag filled to the brim with food for a certain. . .dragon outside the city.

➨ As you continued to walk a path leading to a forest close to the city, the weather suddenly made a simple walk into a beautiful experience. The path's towering trees and mossy rocks have stolen your breath from its beauty. In the distance, rumbling thunderstorms could be heard and added a more relaxing mood.

➨ Initially, when your dragon was younger, they managed to live in your home easily. Still, as they grew older, their size suddenly became a problem. Of course, you know having a dragon known by the public will cause a lot of problems, so your dragon stays in a makeshift home you built away from people, where it is safe and spacious for your dragon.

➨ As you continued your quiet journey through the forest, you couldn't help but sense that someone was watching you from afar. Your skin felt a slight shiver, even when the wind wasn't around, and yet, every time you turned to check, you'd just keep walking and feeling some sort of familiarity.

➨ However, in the corner of your eye, you caught the slightest glimpse of a silhouette that somehow looked vaguely similar but disappeared the minute you saw it. You shrugged to yourself and thought it was the forest playing with your mind, but once you turned to face the path, the one and only Six-Eared Macaque was there, grinning as usual.

➨ You instinctively freaked out, and the mud from under your shoe managed to cause you to slip and fall. Still, at the last second, Macaque swiftly grabbed your hand and prevented you from getting dirty.

➨ He quietly chuckled. "I'd thought you'd gotten used to my little surprises, sugarplum~" he spoke deeply, as the tone was done on purpose before flashing a pearly smile.

➨ As he helped you stand up, you cupped your face to hide the fact that you were blushing. Unlike Wukong, Macaque was the kind of guy to tease and flirt often, even in the worst times possible.

➨ "Not unless you decided to scare me in a forest. I thought it was someone else." Your stern voice spoke, but you weren't mad; more flustered, actually. "What are you doing here anyway? I didn't think the Six-Eared Macaque would wander around these parts." Suspicion could be heard from your tone as you questioned Macaque under the light drizzle.

➨ "Well, I noticed you waltzing around the city, and I got curious about why you were heading into a forest alone," Macaque said honestly as you patiently waited for his reasoning. "Plus, I got you this umbrella, just in case." Behind his cloak, an umbrella appeared, and he demonstrated it as proof.

➨ "But it's only raining a little." Instantly, the heavy rain began to emerge from the darkest patches of clouds, and a moment of silence took place. A feeling of embarrassment overwhelmed you, and your hands covered your face as you tried to survive the upcoming tease of your significant other.

➨ "Remember, Y/N, never jinx it." You didn't need to look up at him to see that smug look on his face, but the sound of the umbrella popping up made you look up and see he was preparing the umbrella to protect you from the harsh rain.

➨ "I'll hold onto the umbrella. You seemed to be already carrying a lot of stuff anyway." A pang was felt in your heart from this act of kindness. Of course, he'll never admit it, but it was more than enough that he at least gave you moments that reminded you that he does love and care for you.

➨ During the walk, the two of you only listen carefully to the soft croaks of frogs or the soothing whistles of birds up high in the trees. You continued to smile and admire nature, as it is not something you see often in the city. But Macaque, on the other hand, kept admiring you and your beautiful smile as his heart kept fluttering against his chest like butterflies.

➨ "I've been meaning to ask you," Macaque began conversing with you, and you turned your head around to pay attention. "How come you're here in the first place?" You immediately forget that you brought Macaque to your dragon's secret home. Then again, this is Macaque, and you fully trust him to keep your secret until further notice.

➨ "Well, you see. . ." You started strong before stopping yourself, which led Macaque to raise a brow in curiosity. Before you could tell him the truth, you finally arrived at the makeshift home for your dragon and decided to take his hand and lead him inside. "How about I show you." Again, you smile excitedly this time, and you see the slightest glimpse of a flustered face the moment your hands touch.

➨ "So before we go inside, I want you to promise me something." A sincere expression on your face looked back at Macaque, and again, he listened patiently to you as you struggled to muster the words. "When we enter, promise me you won't freak out, okay?" Macaque was obviously unfazed by your words, but you knew that would change when you opened the door. "Don't worry, Y/N," You decided to test him by revealing whatever was on the other side. "I'm pretty sure it'd be nothing-"

➨ As soon as the door swung wide open, your dragon was the first thing to be seen. It appeared to be resting inside peacefully, and Macaque's face was genuinely surprised. You calmly walked in, and sat down next to your dragon as they hummed happily from feeling your presence.

➨ You looked back at Macaque, where he was standing, but he wasn't there anymore. And as you looked around, he was already next to you and your dragon as he locked the door and put the umbrella away.

➨ "So. . .you're a dragon raiser, huh?" Macaque spoke again while you took out some food and placed some in a large bowl for your dragon, and they began to feast on their meal. "Well, I guess you could say that. Are you surprised?" You nervously replied as you weren't sure Macaque was handling the situation well.

➨ "I'm not surprised to see a dragon; I'm surprised you have one." In an honest tone, Macaque responded and seemed to be relatively calm. The conversation went nowhere, so you tried to make your interaction less awkward. "Yeah, I found them alone somewhere in a cave. And you know, a dragon living in the city would be disastrous, so I kept them here to be safe." You briefly explained, and a face of solace looked first at you and then at your dragon before placing his hand on their resting body.   

➨ Judging from his eyes, a memory must be flashing before him, and you didn't want him to feel sad, so you carefully yet hesitantly reach out your hand and place it on top of his hand. He looked back at you with sombre eyes as he noticed your comforting gesture before he smiled and allowed you to continue.

➨ You rested your head on his shoulder and held his hand as his thumb gently caressed your delicate skin. "I love you, Macaque~" You looked at him with adoring eyes as his cheeks and ears grew a soft shade of red, but his eyes were hooded yet inviting for your affection. "I love you too, Y/N." He then kissed you on the head before the both of you brought your bodies closer to each other. 

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

Just some headcanons about how I think Copia, Mary, and the ghouls would kiss you.

Copia kisses you like you're about to disappear and he doesn't know if he'll see you again. He cups your face, holds you close, takes it slow so the taste of one another may never leave your mouths again. He whispers against your lips, telling you how much he loves you and how he can't bear to leave you and that he would bring you on tour with him if he didn't think it would cause problems for Imperator.

Mary Goore's kisses come across as aggressive and bruising, but you know he's trying to show you with his actions rather than words how much he loves, wants, needs you. It's desperate hands pulling on each other, twisting into hair, Mary directing you to where he wants you. His teeth biting into your lip, a tongue pushing into your mouth. He's not comfortable with the vulnerability of saying "I love you", but his desperation for you is enough to tell you that he can't let you go.

Sodo is fiery passion and pushing one another up against walls. You make him feral, make him want to say fuck everything else, because in that moment you're all that he can see and smell and hear and feel and taste. He tries to engulf you, to swallow you whole, but in reality it's you who envelopes him with your heart, and you both feel it with the intensity of your kisses. There are times when you take it slower, savour one another, but it's when you devour each other that you feel that fire burn the brightest.

Aether kisses you slowly, gently, touches feather-light as if he worries he'll break you if he holds onto you too tightly. He's aware that he's the strongest out of the other ghouls physically, and so he's careful every time you kiss. His lips ghost over yours, they meld together so seamlessly, he caresses your face so gently it almost tickles. It's always you who has to deepen it, make it rougher, and he's okay with letting you have that control. Rather that than he hurt you. He couldn't live with himself if he harmed you trying to show you his love.

The kisses between you and Swiss are plentiful, the ghoul grabbing your face and placing kiss after kiss on your lips until you're giggling and pulling him in for a longer, deeper one. You press yourselves up against one another as much as you can, leaving little to no space between you both, and it's like you're in your own bubble. He has so much love, so much passion, to give to you and he'll shower it upon you as much as he can with each and every kiss.

A kiss from Rain is full of so much raw emotion, so much that he's too nervous to say to you in front of everyone else, because he's convinced - like Copia - that this kiss could be your last and he may never see you again. But the difference is that while Copia fears he'll never see you again because he knows there's a chance he'll suffer the same fate as the other Papas, Rain is terrified that you'll bore of him and go for one of the other ghouls. So he puts all his love, all his being, into all of your kisses, foreheads touching and noses brushing. And every time, you reassure him that you're not going anywhere. You love him, nobody else.

When Mountain kisses you, unless you're taller or the same height as him he always ducks his head to brush yours. Your kisses are always slow, leisurely, and it's like the two of you become one with each other and nature itself. You feel everything draw to a standstill as you cling to one another and allow yourselves to feel everything. Sometimes, when he takes you out to a secluded spot in nature, he'll sit and bring you into his lap as you both bask in one another's glorious love while you kiss. To the two of you, the rest of the world doesn't exist. There's just the two of you.

Sunshine is unadulterated joy and love. Kisses interspersed with smiles and laughter and pure adoration for one another. When your kisses sadly end, she looks at you as if you're the moon to her sun. Your fingers intertwine as you press your lips together, bodies as flush against one another as you can get, the bumping of noses that make you break apart and giggle. She radiates pure love and happiness and she channels that into the kisses you share, her tail gently stroking your cheek because she doesn't want to let your hands go.

Cumulus' kisses always taste of whatever she and Mountain have been baking in the kitchen. They're sweet, both in taste and in essence, as she holds onto your shoulders to keep you rooted where you are. She doesn't tell anyone else, but sometimes she worries that like the wind you'll blow away and she may never get to tell you again how much she cherishes and loves you. She tries her best not to make it so obvious with her kisses, but sometimes they're so filled with need that you have to reassure her that nothing could tear you both apart. You'd fight for her, do anything for her, and she is the same with you.

The way Cirrus kisses you is similar to Sodo in that they're full of heated passion, but not as aggressive. She's forceful, pushing a knee between your legs, tugging your clothes or your hair, but not to engulf you. She wants and needs to feel you, to know that you're just as real as she is, and that this isn't a dream. But when you fight back, trying to take control and dominate the kiss, it's your way of letting her know that you're very real and that she couldn't get rid of you even if she tried. There's biting, sucking of lips, squeezing of flesh, and both of your hearts rattling against your chests. In that moment, you both feel so electric and alive.

[b1rds3ye]

My Heart Burns For You

Rodolfo is still by your side and ready to fight for Las Almas, but after a near-death encounter he realises he can't stay silent about how he feels for you.

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Canon-Compliant (Straight after Borderline), Confessions, Friends to Lovers,  Italicised sentences are characters talking in Spanish

Word Count: 2.3k

For Fall4Rudy by @glitterypirateduck

Prompts: “I can't get you out of my head” (6), “Say it again” (16)

Warning: Graphic descriptions of injuries, talks of death

A/N: In the campaign Rudy almost dies in a fire, bleeding after a gun to the face then the next day he’s just vibing. I get that the military is fast paced but DAMN- (Also YES I GOT TO CONTRIBUTE TO FALL4RUDY I WAS SO SCARED WITH ASSIGNMENTS I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SKDJFALKSDS)

It was the early hours of the new day. The Vaqueros are vigilant all day, all night, even on their own base, meaning you were pacing back and forth on watch duty. You volunteered this time, with your fellow Vaqueros not arguing with a knowing smile. It seems everyone but the sergeant major himself has become aware of how close you had become, or aware of how you swoon whenever he spoke to you, or offered that little extra bit of care. Combined with what was one of the highest stakes missions to date, you couldn’t help the need to see Rodolfo the instant he and Alejandro got back from the Mexican border…

… if they get back.

You tutted at yourself before turning your head back to the horizon, grip tightening on your rifle. They will be back and you will be the first to see them, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Like cowboys you will see them on the horizon, riding in front of the burning glory of the sun. With a successful mission they will bring the new day and reignite the passion and hope that the Vaqueros so desperately need.

There’s a distant but familiar growl of a cargo truck, and you immediately take cover, gun at the ready as you look down its sights as you try and get a visual of the vehicle. Right on cue, you hear the familiar cackle of Alejandro’s voice through your comms.

“Guns down, friendlies returning to base.”

You smile as you loosen your posture, standing back up again. But simmering under your joy is the thought that they’ve returned home a little too early.

“I’m taking it’s a successful mission, Colonel?”

“Sergeant.”

The line is silent for a few moments.

“That’s a negative.”

It is meant to be morning and yet the sky is looking ever darker. The stars do little to illuminate your darkening expression. Your swallow is thicker than the tar that shapes the tattered roads beneath you, scorched after years of neglect under Las Almas’ heat.

“Where’s Rodolfo?”

You try to ask as nonchalantly as possible. To hide the fact you’re demanding an answer like a kid to your direct superior.

“I’m here.”

The tension in your shoulders was relieved at that voice. You would rather see him, rather have him tell you as he stood beside you. Ideally his voice wouldn’t sound strained, fatigue bleeding through the speakers into your own weary mind, painfully reminding you that you’ve essentially pulled an all nighter to catch a glimpse of him before you hit the hay.

“I had to come back to you.”

You chew your lips as the static cuts off. Before you can think any further at Rodolfo’s odd choice of words the truck pulls up to you as you stand by the entrance of the base. You squint even as the full-beam headlights turn off, the glare stubbornly clouding your vision. The slam of a car door has you tilting your head to Alejandro as he exits the truck. His smile is genuine but strained.

He was in the driver’s seat. And if Rudy was around, Alejandro never drove.

The colonel seemed to be reading your mind.

“Rudy is being rather honest right now, I needed to give him some adrenaline.”

On the other side of the truck, Rodolfo’s silhouette eventually comes back into view. His head had lulled forward, footsteps pounding against the sandy grounds of Las Almas. They were determined but not nearly as clean as his usual gait, pebbles audibly grinding against his boots. Only when he emerged from the shadows of the truck did you realise why Alejandro needed to give him a boost.

“Rudy…”

Rodolfo is silent, only marching ever closer to you. His visage is nothing short of horrific, blood both fresh and dry painting a terrifying collage on the upper half of his face. He must have tried to wipe the blood off, finger-sized smears across his countenance that haphazardly spread onto the wrists of his hoodie did little to relieve you.

“Rodolfo? Friend, you must get patched up-” Alejandro muttered after the sergeant major. Upon realising Rodolfo was beelining straight to you, Alejandro only gave you a firm nod with a knowing look. “Sergeant, patch him up.”

But Rodolfo had already reached you, hand held ever so lightly around your bicep like the gentlest but encouraging breeze to follow him into base. You can’t bring yourself to resist, not even trying to slow down his brisk walk and instead look over your shoulder to address Alejandro.

“Roger that, Colonel!”

Alejandro only waves you off dismissively with an amused expression between a smile and a grimace as Rodolfo paced double time into the building with you in tow.

“Rodolfo?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He leaves it at that and the damning baritone that ends his sentence leaves you unable to even dare to say anything else. Instead you can only take him in apprehensively as he leads you down the familiar hallways towards your quarters. When you expected the familiar indoor smell of your second home to wash over, instead it was dominated by the pungent odour of something charred. Bitterly mixed with smoke and gasoline, you dreaded the image conjuring up in your mind as you notice a hole in Rodolfo’s jacket, loose threads singed off in a cruel finish.

When you reach your room, you take the lead, pulling Rodolfo down to sit on your bed. It’s only then does his hand tighten, fingers attempting to clamp around your bicep but it only closes around air. You head straight to your first aid kit, and then to retrieve a towel that you dampen with water. He watches you all the while.

Rodolfo parts his knees, letting you stand between his thighs. With one hand you take his chin, the other giving light dabs across his face. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the towel dirty with red, but Rodolfo doesn’t seem all too bothered with his own injuries, the weight of his head on your hand getting heavier as he gets comfortable.

“What on earth happened so suddenly that you need to tell me now?” You chastise lightly. “I’m sure it can wait tomorrow, you need to rest-”

“No, we failed,” Rodolfo grumbles. His syllables were a little slurred, no doubt to the adrenaline running off but his eyebrows were adorably furrowed as he tried to maintain concentration. “We will head out in the morning to find Hassan, I need-”

“To rest,” you argue. Your ministrations cleaned up the main mask of his face, and now you could get a good look at him without being concerned that he was going to kick the bucket in a few minutes. You give him a frown before you continue to dab at his temples and the blood that got stuck in the roots of his hair, Rodolfo offering the odd hum of contentment all the while. “We can handle it tomorrow, if we’ll be fighting like you said, we’ll need to concentrate-”

“I love you.”

Your hand stilled. You instinctively wanted to argue that he must’ve had too much adrenaline but he is looking as serious and sober as ever.

“You tell me I’ll need to concentrate but I can’t get you out of my head.”

He reached up to take your hand that’s at his temple, despite the thickness of his fingers he nimbly moves them to thread in between yours. You do not doubt that the man standing before you is Rodolfo, but something was different. He was changed. The fire in his eyes held a different light, more sombre, a tinge of desperation. He was distracted, or instead, he was too focused on a singular goal that he disregarded everything else like a moth to a flame. He still wore his dirtied gear upon sheets that you’ll likely have to wash later.

“What happened tonight?” You whisper tentatively. In truth, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

“I almost died.”

In any other situation you would have laughed. Of course he almost died, you two almost die every day. It comes with the territory of being a Vaqueros.

But the both of you know that.

“In the cartel safehouse, alone,” Rodolfo murmurs. “I saw Hassan, he talked to me. They set the house aflame but I was concussed, I couldn’t move no matter how much I wanted to.”

He looks away briefly and you offer his hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He leans forward, getting closer to you until his tactical vest clacks against yours.

“Alejandro saved me,” he admits. “But before he did… I thought I was done.”

For a second, Rodolfo is back in the safehouse, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows a cough.

“I swear I was burning in the flames of hell already, it was suffocating. In those moments when I had no choice but to lie and wait, I could only think of one thing. They say that your life flashes before your eyes but that did not happen to me.”

And then it was Rodolfo’s turn to tighten the grip on your hand, expecting you to slip away through his fingers like smoke.

“I could only think about you.”

Rodolfo drags your hands down to his cheek. Pulling his hand away briefly to then manipulate yours to cup his face. He leans into it and you indulge, gently stroking the plushness of his cheek with your thumb. With his face close up to yours, you now notice the faintest stray smears of soot against his skin and you try to wipe them away even as it gets your own hands dirty in the process. His face is flushed, skin warm to the touch like the final embers of a campfire.

“The only regret on my mind - that you never knew how I felt about you. I know the lives we’ve chosen are dangerous, but you were always my respite. I accept it is fair that I will die out on the field as a Vaquero but when I was burning in that safehouse I could only think how it was unfair to you.”

His eyes had slowly closed as he nuzzled deeper into your palm.

“It was unfair to you if I never got to show you my gratitude or repay you. It was unfair if I didn’t get the chance to at least try to give you the comfort you have given me.”

You could barely hear him over your pounding heart. Rodolfo resigns himself, slowly lifting his head from your hand. He doesn’t look particularly sad, only accepting, looking as resolute as ever.

“You don’t have to feel the same, but you deserve to know. Coronel may fight for Las Almas, but I realise now I am fighting for you. Regardless of how you feel, I always will be.”

With no words able to capture how you feel, you can only push forward, pressing your lips against his. Rodolfo was more than happy to accept, his hand already slipping to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. Any closer and there will be teeth clacking and even then it would not feel close enough. Your military gear only feels like a hinderance, as it creates an uncomfortable pressure against your chest that you push through just to get a taste of him. His groan is swallowed up by you and reverberates through your entire being. Pressing up against him, the bitter fumes of toxic flames that surrounded him were distant, managing to instead get the whiff of his cologne; the smell of comfort after quiet nights spent huddled together in base. His other arm cradles the curve of your back, the firmness of his bicep nudging you forward until your abdomen is against his.

And with a single kiss you pour all of the emotion you can. For all the days spent pining helplessly at his natural kindness. For all the times he refuses to let you do a mission alone, to the hushed, panic whispers of reassurance when you’re bleeding out on the field. To let him know he’s already paid in kind if not more. That every time you reload your rifle and step onto cartel territory, ready to sign your life away, that you had been fighting for him all the same.

When you pull away, Rodolfo does not let you move any further than you have to to regain your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, heaving breaths intermingling. His hands have crept up to your neck, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. No doubt his fingers have accidentally dirtied your face with the soot and dirt from the mission, but you will gladly adorn the markings as a sign that you are his.

“I love you too,” you say breathlessly and he instinctively lets out a content sigh.

“Dios mío, please, say it again.”

“I love you, Rodolfo Parra,” you reply and he offers a smile worthy to be put in a museum.

It takes a few testing tugs until Rodolfo allows you to finally part from him, not after you distract him with a quick peck on the lips. You gingerly pick up the towel that had been forgotten on the floor, setting it aside and now opening up the first aid kit beside you.

“Now that I’m your lover I can order you around, hm?” You tease and you giggle with how his smile turns shy upon referring to yourself as his partner. “I’m going to patch you up, we’ll wash up, and then you’re going to rest.”

“How cruel,” he replies fondly. “But I guess whatever mi vida says must go, yes?”

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