#'do u think anxiety takes off day wall? do u think it gives up around a special time'

[hyuuukais]

heyllo :3

can i request reader x chan? reader is overwhelmed but keeps it in because that’s what they see chan doing a lot of the time. but eventually it builds to a breaking point where the stress causes them to completely shut down. chan doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong so it might be cute if he just sits on the floor in front of reader and plays clips from a song he’s working on and asks for their opinion (by basically talking out loud to himself) and then after reader calms down they are able to verbalize they just need a human weighted blanket and to be told they are doing amazing and their efforts are not going unnoticed.

im fine. 🥲

just hold me, tell me you love me

pairing : chan x reader

notes : me vs the long title. anyway thank uuu for being my first request! i hope this lives up to ur expectations and can provide u some comfort 🫶 sending u hugs and love 🫂💙 sorry it's taken a bit long to get back to! kind of was getting this feeling myself and have been unable to write, but i think i'm getting back

warnings : reader is overwhelmed, mentions of anxiety, fear of opening up to someone, reader is called pet names (love, baby), reader breaks down

wc : 1.4k

All week there's been a growing pressure in your chest threatening to spill all over the floor and leave you a mess, lying on the ground with nothing else to give. Give, you've given all you can, and now that you're home, you can't do it anymore. You seek peace in the quiet of your shared bedroom, your boyfriend still at work in his studio.

Your boyfriend, who works hard day and night. Your boyfriend, who's loving and caring and sweet. Your boyfriend, who you're scared to open up to when things get really hard, because he doesn't share with you either. Although the relationship isn't fresh, going on a year and a half, there are still things you don't talk about. You don't want to burden him with your struggles when you've always been able to power through by yourself.

Fisting the sheets under you, you can feel the need to cry in your body, the hollow feeling in your chest and the tightness in your throat, but nothing comes. It's like your body knows you're too tired for even that simple of an action, for even one tear to slip. So instead, you sit the the blanket over you, face peeking out to stare at the wall with tired eyes. You can't sleep. If you close your eyes, you know you won't drift off and wake up feeling better, you'll just lie there for hours.

"Baby?"

Something spikes in you when you hear Chans voice ring out through the apartment, curling into yourself more. He shouldn't be home this early and yet, here he is, calling your name and wondering where you are; you're never in bed this early. Chan continues to call out for you until you hear the bedroom door opening quietly.

"Love?" Chans footsteps get closer, and you can feel the edge of the bed dip with his weight as he sits down. "My love..."

His hand brushes over your shoulder, but you can't face him. When you bring the blanket over your head more, he seems to get the hint, shifting to lean against the headboard next to the statue that is your body, unmoving and heavy. You can feel him fiddling beside you, and soon, a soft melody fills your ears. It's enough to distract you temporarily from the raging storm in your head, focusing on the beats, and when Chans voice comes through, it's like you can feel a sense of comfort washing over you. Although it's not enough to completely take these feelings away, you're grateful for what he's doing.

"This song has been giving me trouble," Chan comments over the music, sighing heavily. "I can't figure out if I like the chorus or not, and it feels like it's missing something in general, but I don't know what. What do you think, baby?"

Unable to answer verbally, but still wanting him to know you're listening, you roll around so you're facing him. He chuckles as you bury your face under his thigh when you see he's sitting cross-legged, the pressure on your face oddly comforting. Chan places a hand on your back, his arm resting behind your head as he rubs small circles over your thick layer of blanket. Another song starts playing after a while, another soft one, too. You relax under his touch, feeling the vibrations through his body as he hums along to this one and makes occasional comments about changes he'd like to make.

Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks, your eyes fluttering shut as he keep playing different songs and telling you all about them. Both of you are aware that he shouldn't be playing so much unreleased music, but all Chan cares about in this moment is you, helping you, calming you, loving you. The company will never know anyway.

"Chan," You whisper, voice barely audible. His humming stops and he pauses the music, looking down at your limp form with furrowed brows. Moving your head slightly, you're able to look up at him on an angle, the cool air of the bedroom breaching your blanket cocoon.

"What is it, baby?" Chan moves some hair from your face, leaving this palm to rest on your cheek.

"Can you just-" You clear your throat, one hand coming up to play with the hem of his shorts at his knee to calm you more. "Just hold me, tell me you love me?"

Without words, he shifts down to your level and nods. Carefully, Chan guides you to face away from him and brings you close to his body, your back pressed tightly against his chest. His chin rests on your shoulder, now enveloped inside your blanket as he holds onto you tightly, scared that if he let's go, you'll fade away. The thought of you being in so much pain, whether physical or emotional, is something he can't bear; he can't sit on the sidelines and watch you wither away. Neither of you speak as you lie there for what feels like hours, although it must only be a few minutes. The feeling of Chan's breath on your neck is oddly comforting, your own hands finding his arm around your waist and holding onto him.

Something about the way Chan is holding you, comforting you without the pressure of being asked what's wrong, has you finally breaking down. It starts small, holding back a few tears, but a few escaping despite your efforts. Then Chan shifts closer, pressing soft lips on the skin behind your ear.

"I love you, you know that? So, so much," He whispers, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he buries his face into your hair. "You're doing amazing, baby, and I mean that. I thought... I thought something might have been wrong, but I didn't know how to go about this. I'm sorry it got to this point, I should have asked. I want you to know you can always turn to me, okay?"

His words have the dam breaking and soon enough, the sobs ripping from your chest have you gasping and hiccupping like there's no tomorrow. You don't register the way Chan tries to soothe you as he pulls you around and into his chest. Subconsciously, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and roll his body onto yours, his head sitting in the crook of your neck. The weight feels nice, grounding, and you can finally hear Chan speaking again.

"Shhh, it's okay, you're okay." Chan whispers into the skin of your neck, one of his hands smoothing back your hair. "You're okay, I'm here, now breathe, alright? Breathe, baby."

He inhales deeply, and you do your best to mimic his movements. It's shaky, but you're doing it.

"Good job, you're doing great," Chan keeps his voice low as he speaks. "Keep breathing."

It gets to the point where you don't need to think about breathing anymore, your head throbbing slightly from the sudden outburst of emotion. Chan's body stays on yours, but he props himself up enough to look at you, his palm on your cheek and his thumb wiping away any remaining tears. You can barely look him in the eye.

All he does is stare at you with those pretty, dark eyes, but you realize there's a dampness under them matching yours. You open your mouth to question it, but he shakes his head, a soft smile on his face.

"I don't want you to be in pain alone ever again." His thumb continues to caress your cheek, even though the tears have dried. "I love you too much to let you go through that. Whatever's going on, tell me when you're ready, yeah? For now, just let me gush about my beautiful partner until they're feeling better."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you as Chan surges up to pepper your face in kisses, saying praises in between each one. With every kiss, you can feel your face heating up until you try and cover it, but he just grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away. Eventually, he slows down, pressing one last kiss directly on your lips, and settles back onto you.

"Let's stay like this for a while," Chan suggests, knowing you need it, but so does he. "My favourite place is in your arms."

-

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

[hotpinkstars]

hello hello! for the reqs, how about helping kafka get ready for one of those fancier missions? just some sweet intimacy (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

FANCY! - kafka x reader

- helping kafka get ready for a more fancy mission.

- I LOVE TJIS GN. i'm so crazy about kafka i need her to have a rerun rn!!!!! anywayssss this request is so fluffy i love it sm. thank u anon, and enjoy!!

- slight mentions of murder and theft, besides that pure fluff. wc 970

It was, once again, time for Kafka to leave off for a mission.

You’ve gotten used to this schedule, but you got to keep her a little later today. She didn’t have to be at the banquet hall until 9:00 at night, giving you two the whole day. When the clock hit around 8:00, she hurried into your shared room to put on her dress of choice. 

It was a plum colored dress, very similar to her hair. Instead of the updo her hair was usually in, she decided to leave it down, but she wanted help styling it while she did her makeup.

“Dearest, would you come here?” She called, your footsteps taking you from the other room into the bedroom.

“Yeah? What's up?” You asked, tossing your phone onto the plush bed before standing behind her. “That dress is gorgeous. Suits you well.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I just need help styling my hair for tonight. I don’t know if it should be flat-ironed or curled.”

You hummed, going into the bathroom to grab some supplies. You grabbed both the curling iron and the flat iron, taking some heat protectant so her luscious hair doesn’t fry. 

“How does flat ironing sound? I think it’ll look nice with the dress style. Pair it with some gold eyeshadow and gold jewelry, too,” you stated, running your hands through her hair, applying heat protectant.

She nodded, applying a light coat of foundation while keeping her eye on the time. “Straightening it sounds fine. I barely do it, anyways.”

So you got to work, taking fine care of each strand and going over them a couple times to make the look perfect. She was applying makeup, occasionally chatting with you about little things, or joking about her look. 

You were going over her hair a second time, making sure that all ends and pieces were not missed. 

“So, what's this mission even about anyways? Or is it top-secret?” You smiled, lightly prying. “I won’t tell a soul about it, I swear on my whole life.”

She giggled, looking at you through the mirror. “Jail worthy, as usual. But I won’t get caught. It’s to steal a jewel that Elio needs and wrote in the script. I know exactly how to be successful.”

You nodded. “As long as you don’t kill too many people… but anyways, who’s going with you this time? This seems too nice to have Silver Wolf assist you. Is it solo, or is Blade going with you?”

“Just Bladie. He’s going to be there for a distraction, anyways. I’ll throw him in the middle so everyone will pay attention to him,” she joked, pulling a laugh from you. “But, in all seriousness, he’s necessary to complete the job.”

You were still paying attention to her hair, careful not to leave any strand under the heat for too long. 

“Which gold would look better? The one from this pallet, or this one?” She held out two pallets, one with a more glittery gold, and one that’s a lighter, more toned down version that doesn’t have all of the sparkles. You took another look at her dress before picking which one would look the nicest. 

She nodded, applying the shade of choice. You liked times like this- times where you both could be with each other without conflict waiting to arise, times where she’s not trying to keep away from bounty hunters, and times where there's no tension or anxiety coursing through her veins. This was a moment of peace, where you could both drop your worries and relax for even just a few minutes (in this case, a system hour). 

“Finished! How do you like your hair?” You stepped back, shutting the flat iron off and unplugging it from the side of the wall. She ran her hands through the strands, nodding in approval before smiling at herself through the mirror. 

“It looks nice. It goes well with the dress style. Good call.”

You smiled, happy that she likes the look. You put everything back, allowing her to finish up her makeup. 

When you re-entered the room, you pulled out a couple pairs of high heels for her to pick from. There were varieties of colors- white, nude, silver, gold, black, you name it. She stood up, looking over the selection.

“If you’re going to wear gold jewelry, and you have gold eye makeup on, wear the gold pair of heels. Trust me, it will balance out everything just perfectly!” You advised. You sounded so passionate, leaving a gentle smile painted on the stellaron hunters face. She picked the heels up and put them on, spinning around in the mirror to make sure they fit nicely and feel good to walk in. 

You took some jewelry out of the jewelry box, presenting her with a couple of nice gold necklaces and rings, topped off with a pair of pretty earrings that match the same theme. She chose one of the necklaces and two rings, sliding the rings on and having you put the necklace on. She put the earrings on before toying with her hair, throwing it over her shoulders to hang off her head, spilling onto her back. 

“You’re beautiful, Kafka,” you mumbled, in slight awe of how gorgeous she looked right now. She giggled. “Thank you, dear. I wish you could come with, but it’s too dangerous. I wouldn’t want to risk you being kidnapped, hurt, or killed.”

You nodded, sitting down on the bed. The time hit 8:45, and she walked over to you.

“I better head out now, but I should be back by tomorrow morning,” She said, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kafka,” you replied, giving her a long kiss on the lips before escorting her out the door.

[r0tt0]

hiii !! can u write head canons for hoodie/Brian?? if u want of course!! since I read the list I don't rlly remember if he was in it..

Hii anon!! Thank you for requesting something and of course I can!!! :D

Cw: Angst, hurt/comfort?, Mentions of depression, paranoia, anxiety, insomnia, OCD, PTSD, mentions of his weapons (Gun and a pipe)

Brian Thomas/Hoodie General Headcannons

Has a love hate relationship with the summertime. He likes it because of the warm weather but absolutely hates it too because of missions. Literally gets sweaty so fast due to his hoodie and ski mask combo. Immediately takes a shower when they get back to the base (whether it be the mansion or the cabin).

Has normal hygiene

His scent is like ocean/aquatic fresh, musky, spicy, and woody. (He’s worn “Nautica - Voyage” since his college days. He still wears it but has a backup so he won’t use up the whole bottle, the back up is “Ocean” by bath and body works. He stole it from a house while on a mission)

Speaking of backups, he has a backup hoodie on the very rare occasions his is dirty. It’s just a plain black pull over.

A bit insecure about himself but doesn’t realize it until he overthinks. On that note, he doesn’t like his tooth gap all too much. He’s gotten plenty of compliments on it but it just doesn’t stick with him personally. He just ignores it, he’ll say a quick “thanks”, think about it for a bit and then shrug the feeling off.

^^ Doesn’t give himself much time to self loathe or at least tries not to, it’s hard due to his depression.

NEEDS to have his pipe or his gun on or near him at all times. Paranoid and anxious.

Him and Tim always had a “bromance”.

“You don’t kiss your homies goodnight?”- Brian

He has so much walls built around him. He still finds it hard to trust Tim or anyone for that matter.

They’ve had an argument about it before and Brian flipped out on him and kinda let everything he’s been holding in since the “Marble Hornets” days. He still blames him for everything. The feeling of betrayal and everything else just hit him right in the chest all over again.

It ended so terribly and on missions they could not work as a team, caused them to do separate missions due to the lack of teamwork. Toby felt like a “child of divorce” -in his own words.

They didn’t talk to each other for almost 2 months. Neither of them apologized. They “let it go” and never spoke about it again, “moved” on from it like it was never said. They kinda just stood outside of the mansion in silence.

Tim had went outside to smoke a cigarette and he saw Brian sitting in a chair on the patio in silence. He just walked over near him to light up his cigarette and smoke, he ended up breaking the silence after 3 minutes of smoking and standing in silence. They went back to talking and joking like normal.

Brian still gets triggered by it all. “He is a liar” has been on repeat in his head and nightmares for years.

Nevertheless he cares so much about Tim.

Has insomnia, OCD, depression and PTSD. (And slender sickness)

Upon hearing him being called “The Hooded Man” he truly thought it was so badass.

“Has a nice ring to it”

The name stuck with him until Toby called him “Hoodie” after he also gave Tim the nickname “Masky” which in return made everyone follow suit with their new “Aliases/Nicknames”.

He still thinks The Hooded Man still sounds cooler but eh

Hoodie is a disguise, not an alter ego. Hoodie is Brian. He is 100% conscious unlike Masky/Tim who has blackouts and doesn’t remember his time as Masky. Brian however does remember. Obviously he’s not doing all of this willingly, but because he’s affected by the operator.

This is random but I think his favorite food would be burgers. Also a Dr Pepper lover and defender.

Toby calls him a passenger princess because on missions Brian always calls shot gun. (LMAO) (The seating chart is basically Tim being the driver, Brian in the passenger and Kate and Toby in the back seat)

I’d say around the mansion he’s cool with a few others besides Tim, Toby and Kate. He’d be cool with Jane, Liu, Nina and Eyeless Jack in my opinion.

The quiet one out of the Proxies.

Gets migraines sometimes now and the slender sickness makes him feel worse during it.

His phone’s wallpaper and Lock Screen are just pictures he takes while out in the forest (they’re really nice pictures too)

Doesn’t enjoy spicy food

Doesn’t shave his facial hair because it “takes too long” or it’s “too much effort”. In reality he just likes his facial hair and how it looks on him.

He’s very smart and calculated on missions, but he’s also just smart in general.

Pan romantic

Writes in black ink or pencil only, even black spray paint. Him and Toby are the ones who draw the slenderman pages and proxy symbols. Tim and kate hang up the pages.

Well that’s all I have for now! lol these are just my personal hc’s so I hope I cooked a bit ;-;

Check out my pinned post on my page if you wanna request me something to write!

Side note I forgot to add in i can write “Character x Reader” on the pinned post so I just edited right now!

Bye for now!! :))

[p1a9u3]

PeepHole Ch.1: Moving Day

Masterpost Ch.1 - Ch.2 Pairing: Dylan Matthews x Fem Oc

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Genre: Neighbors/Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Slow-burn

Summary: Moving isn't as exciting as Amoya thought, plus she may have pissed off her new neighbor.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: (This story takes place in 2024) Mental illness (anxiety, ocd), Violent intrusive thoughts, Language, Age gap (5years), Using phone while driving

Status: Unedited

Author note: This is the first fic that I've ever posted, I've written before but I've never finished anything and published it so don't tear me to shreds, please. I chose to make an oc instead of just writing as a reader mainly because I made a whole character in my head before I wrote this so I decided to just make her an oc, if you would like a post going more into this oc of mine feel free to ask (I might post it anyway because I like her), there is no smut in this chapter btw. Please give me feedback and suggestions, constructive criticism, etc. Don't be a bitch about it though...please. I'm thinking of making this a series POSSIBLY, but I procrastinate a lot so that may never happen. To my fellow troublemakers hopefully, I do Dylan justice and my writing is at least a little bit accurate to his personality. Still, to be fair I'm a fairly new troublemaker having only found out about this man a few weeks ago, so if something isn't accurate please correct me...politely. He's become my new hyper fixation so when I saw there aren't really any fics about him I decided I should make my own so here we are. Anyway with that being said Enjoy <3. Update: Dylan is barely in this chapter

Monday, February 26, 2024 Time: 8:30AM Moving out was less relieving than you thought it would be. Having been by your mother's side for almost all your life, you'd gotten comfortable always having someone around.

'You can't live with your parents forever'

People would remind you whenever the topic of anyone's living situation would be brought up. Being twenty-seven and still living with your mother wasn't something you wanted to keep telling people, no one would take you seriously. Though your mother never pushed for you to move out, never mentioned it actually. You think you know why. You never say anything though, so you deal with the slight embarrassment, and ignore the judgmental stares you get whenever someone brings it up.

'They don't know our relationship'

More excuses you make up to justify your obstinance; and to mask the anxiety you're feeling as finish up packing your U-Haul. You had finished packing your stuff from your shared apartment and were now finishing the few boxes you had in storage. Now in the elevator mustering up the strength to carry the last two boxes back down to the truck. Grabbing the lock you had left on the floor, you place it on top of one of the boxes and stack the box onto the second one, bending down and lifting with a soft grunt. Long strides carrying you to the elevator, you push the down button with your foot. The doors open soon after, you step inside setting the boxes down as you push the bottom floor and wait. Pushing off the wall as the doors open you pick up the boxes once again, you quickly load them up into the U-Haul before grabbing the padlock from on top of the box, and then heading to the front desk of the storage building.

"Here, the unit is clean and empty." You smile at the woman as she takes the lock and keys with a thank you.

Turning on your heels you walk back to your U-Haul giving everything a once-over before locking it all up, now turning your attention to the hitch attached to the back of the Truck where your precious car is hitched too. It was a black and cherry red 1993 Nissan 240SX with a red interior, you had seen it while driving with your mom past a repair shop when you were 25, back then it had no windshield or wheels. You won't lie and say you fixed it yourself but you did invest all the money you had at that time to fix it up and color it how you wanted; you still would say it was worth it. Checking the hitch and chains attached to the bottom of the car making sure everything was set and ready.

"Everything looks good?" Your mother said making you jump

"Yah! A warning ma, please! And yes everything looks good, I packed up the last two boxes and returned the keys and lock to the front desk while you were in the bathroom." You let out a breath calming your heart from the scare you just had, your mom snickering next to you. You turn to her rolling your eyes playfully as you walk to the front of the truck, your mom following behind you.

"Good, let's get on the road." Your mom hops into the passenger seat and rolls down the window. "I wanna get home by Wednesday."

You climb into the driver's seat, buckling your seatbelt then checking your mirrors. You two had agreed on driving to your new apartment, taking turns every 5 hours, once you got there she'd help you unload and unpack on Tuesday, and your mom would then fly back to New Orleans on Wednesday. The more you think about it the more you feel yourself panic a bit.

"Okay."

Time: 9:00AM Starting the car, you let out a breath putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot of the storage building. You could tell your mom was trying to keep herself calm by the way she would rub her right thigh with her right hand, it was a nervous tick she passed down to you. Unfortunately, you were just as nervous, so you decided to turn on the playlist you and your mom made while eating the night before, mixes of all kinds of genres put into one playlist to keep you both entertained during the drive. Pulling off the main road and merging onto the freeway, you glance over to your mom to see her smiling wide looking back at you. She has that look in her eyes, you know it well.

"Its happening ma." You smile back at your mom then look back to the road

Your mother places her hand on your thigh, letting out a long sigh and a soft squeeze before returning it back to her own lap. You see her wipe a single tear from your peripheral; you don't acknowledge it. She'll start bawling the second you tell her not to cry. So you pretend not to see it and start singing along to Erykah Badu, your mom turns the music up a bit and starts singing along too. You smile to yourself as you glance out your side window, watching as familiar buildings pass by in a blur, You think you'll miss this place. No, you know you will, but a part of you is kinda excited, relieved almost. You've silently always longed to live on your own, but another part of you calls you selfish for even wanting that until now

'How could want to leave your mother'

You know it's normal to want to move out of your parent's home, every grown adult has to move out at some point, and twenty-seven is a perfectly normal age to do so, You wanted to move when you were twenty-four. Hell, some people live with their parents till they are far in their thirties.

'But you know your mother may need you right'

All your brothers have moved out, they are doing good on their own, and you're the only one left. It was only a matter of time; you tell yourself. Your mom will be fine, she's dating a new man who treats her great and takes care of her. Hell he tried to hire a moving crew to move all your stuff, but you wanted to do it yourself and your mom wasn't going to let you drive almost halfway across the country by yourself.

'you could've found a place closer to her you know'

Phoenix, Arizona. You chose Phenix simply because it was affordable for you and close to LA, your mom agreed it was a good choice. There is work in LA, California is just so expensive, so you chose the next best thing. The apartment is nice from what you saw as well, one bedroom, two baths with a study. It was perfect for you.

Time: 11:23AM The drive was going well so far, your mother eating a bag of chips she packed along with all the other snacks and drinks. You were eating a Honeybun, one of your favorite snacks, and drinking water. Your mom had turned off the music and started watching YouTube with mostly commentary so you could listen and drive, Right now a video was playing talking about some ice cream drama in North Dakota. Author note: if you watched this video featuring Dylan is in Trouble, I know it's technically in the future but I don't care, this is all fake anyway. You found it interesting and kinda funny, laughing every now and then when your mom would pause to add her opinion. About two-thirds of the way into the video you glance down at the screen, there are two guys now instead of one, and one of them is wearing glasses, you glance back down looking at the title of the video 'Insane Local Ice Cream Shop Drama (w/ Dylan Is In Trouble)' You made a mental note of the second guy's name for later, his voice was nice you told yourself, he was also fine as fuck. You leaned your seat back as far as it would go, which wasn't very far, getting comfortable. You still have two more hours left to drive.

Time: 12:35PM Your mom had fallen asleep about ten minutes ago, YouTube was still playing, The next video had been the same guy as before. You looked down for a second, looking at the title of the video that had been playing for about fifteen minutes. 'Guessing Finales After ONE Episode (ft. Dylan Is In Trouble)' You smile to yourself a bit recognizing the name at the end of the title, you let the video play just listening to the guy talk for ten more minutes. You caught yourself smiling again when you recognized the second guy's voice as he joined in for the rest of the video, you took a sip of your water glancing down at the video, seeing him pop on screen whenever he had something to say

"he's funny." You mutter to yourself quietly, thinking out loud.

The video had ended and your lips fell back into their original position, as an ad played before the next queued-up video, you looked down at your GPS. 1322 miles to go; you let out a sigh.

'200 miles closer to leaving you mom'

She was helping you unpack, so you technically wouldn't be leaving her really. If anything she was leaving you since she had to fly back home. You prop your left elbow on the open window, your left hand holding the steering wheel, and your right hand comes down to your thigh, rubbing small circles back and forth.

'What happens if Devon goes back home'

Your oldest brother Devon was working at a mental facility. He was on his medication and was doing good, he managed to get a job there and has been making decent money. He was doing fine, He is doing fine.

'What if he stops taking his medication again.'

They will keep tabs on him, they know his habits, his symptoms, He is fine.

'Has another episode and gets out'

That wouldn't happen. He's fine

'He'll be there when mom gets back'

No.

"Hes gonna ki-'

-beep! beep! beep!-

Time: 2:00PM Your mom's alarm goes off, making you jump a bit. Reaching over to turn it off, your mom moans a bit as she wakes up from her short nap, stretching her arms a bit as she yawns.

"Jeste li spremni za promjenu." she yawns out, going for a sip of her water ( translation: Are you ready to switch)

Your mother's Croatian tends to slip when she's just woken up, or delirious. You nod your head looking at the next exit sign to find a gas station, spotting a Love's off the side of the freeway. Slipping off the freeway you pull up to the gas station before parking next to a pump.

"Bathroom?" You look over at your mom, she nods, unbuckling her seatbelt and hopping out of the truck, you do the same.

You both enter opposing stalls to relieve yourselves of all the water you had been drinking, washing your hands after. Your mother heads back to the truck to pump the gas as you browse the aisles for any extra snacks, spotting a honeybun you instinctively grab one, then two, and head to the cashier. You place your honeybuns on the counter and then look up at the cashier who seems to be invested in something on her phone, she wasn't wearing headphones phone volume at maybe thirty percent, you could hear what she was watching. You recognize the voice, the cashier finally looks up from her phone quickly apologizing for not paying attention.

"Oh I'm so sorry, will this be all" She quickly rings up the two honeybuns.

"No you're fine, that'll be it actually." You dismissively wave your hand pulling out your wallet to pay.

Looking down you notice her phone, she had put it on the counter, and the video on it had been paused but on the screen was that guy again, though it seemed to be a video of his own this time. You pull out some cash and hand it to the young woman behind the counter, she takes the cash, counts it, and then goes to get your change.

"No, it's fine, keep the change" Flashing a smile then grabbing your honeybuns you take another glance at the women's screen before it turns off from being left alone for too long.

Opening the passenger seat door, you climb into the seat buckling yourself in. Pulling out of the gas station your mom pulls off back onto the freeway continuing your journey. You pull out the bag you had brought for little activities, pulling out your book of choice. You had splurged at a Barnes and Noble a few weeks before you began packing, picking up a bunch of books you had either heard good things about or had been wanting to read. Red Rising was one of the books, it was also the one you were currently holding.

"I'm gonna put my headphones on, so you can listen to whatever you want." You tell your mom as you put your headphones on and pull out your phone.

You had gotten the book on Audible a while back and wanted to read and listen at the same time. Pressing play you turn to the first chapter and begin reading as the narrator spoke. Your mom seemed to have put music on, you could feel the bass as she turned up the volume and began singing along.

Time: 10:56PM Hours had passed, it was your turn now with two hours left till your next switch. Your mother was knocked out, lightly snoring as you drove in silence, you had stopped reading once you had switched. You also decide to put off reading it until you were moved in, the book had grabbed your attention, so much so, that you wanted to be able to focus on it solely; so you chose to wait. You had a couple hundred miles left to go and things were sinking in more as you drove silently. Your mind doing its usual thing, making you worry about things that most likely won't happen, even if it did, you know it wouldn't be your fault. You couldn't help but think maybe it would be though, it was a dumb thought but you couldn't help it

'What was that guys name again'

Your brain blanked for a second, random but ok, your brain goes back to the YouTube video your mom had been watching, that cashier was watching him as well. Dylan is in Trouble, you wonder what kind of videos he makes, most likely commentary. You pull your phone out glancing down and go to YouTube, you use the voice to text and hold your phone up to your mouth.

"Dylan is in trouble"

You press search, going back and forth between looking at your phone and watching the road. You look down to find his channel, press his icon, and scroll through some of his videos. Movie commentary is what you mostly see, occasionally you'd spot something different, you decided you'd dive into his channel later when you weren't driving.

Time: 5:00AM You were in the driver's seat, you had let your mom sleep more after she had been driving for about three hours. She was up now though, you could tell things were starting to catch up to her again. She was fidgeting a lot more now, well so were you, she looked very tense. She helped you find this apartment, but you assume she wants to see the neighborhood for herself, in person, wants to see how good the security is and what the neighbors are like. It's only natural, she's a mother and her only daughter is moving twenty hours away from her. You look down at your phone, your GPS says you are pulling up now, you look around the area, it was very nice, wasn't too far from the city. You spot the complex to the left, it was pretty big with multiple sections with apartments, you were building three, kind of in the middle of everything. You pull into the complex parking in front of the leasing office to speak to your landlord and to get your keys, your mom comes with you of course, sizing everything up.

"Hi welcome to Arts District Apartments, it's Amaya correct, my name is George?" An old-looking man stands from his desk, his hand reaching out to shake yours

"Thank you, George, it's Amoya actually" You reach out and shake his hand with a smile.

You two talk a bit about the complex and its rules etc. Your mom chimed in every now and then to ask her questions. Before you know it you're unloading the truck into your new apartment, you're realizing now that you didn't have as much stuff as you thought. The last thing you had left was your bed, you and your mom had been doing well with just the two of you, but after you two had gotten the mattress inside your mother's back began to bother her. Now you had your bed frame, you told your mom to relax for now and that you could get the frame up yourself. Partial lie, you previously took apart the bed frame and so there were mainly long pieces that weren't too heavy except the backboard, that thing was heavy as fuck, luckily you had a dolly at the storage building to help you carry it out, but now you have to carry it to the elevator and down the hall. You managed to get it down from the truck, and from there you lifted it and sped walked to the elevator, almost dropping the bed frame on your foot as you set it down to push the button. The doors had closed on you twice as you tried to pick the frame back up and lift it into the elevator, but alas you made it, now on the third floor and outside the elevator. You took pride in your body, you considered yourself strong, regularly went to the gym, and you would say your legs were the strongest part of your body, with that being said, you tried to make as little noise as possible since it was still early in the morning, you lost your footing. You were almost there, your door being right in front of you; but you fell. Landing on the door behind you hitting your head with a very loud thud.

"Bumbo." You whisper yelled at yourself in Jamaican as you set the frame down and leaned off of the door. (translation: Fuck)

Holding the frame upright you walk around it reaching for your door, the frame slipping from your fingers and falling against your neighbor's door again. You prayed that your new neighbor was either a very deep sleeper or wasn't home right now, though maybe you didn't pray hard enough. You lift the bed frame from your neighbor's door, getting your phone to get your mom to hold the door open for you so you can slide it the rest of the way inside. Stopping, you hear the door behind you click open. Your bed frame blocked your view of whoever had stepped out, but you could hear him.

Ch.1 - Ch.2

Updated Author note: Hopefully this was an enjoyable first chapter or part. The apartment is just a random apartment complex I saw on Zillow, everything in this is all fictional besides the YouTube videos and things that are obviously real. Anyway, I have decided to make this a series, I've gone into too much detail on little things like Amoya's intrusive thoughts and all that, and it'd be a waste to shorten and delete half of what I put and speed through everything, Amoya's intrusive thoughts and anxiety is a trait I added from myself, so you'll notice a lot of internal thinking and scenarios she makes up in her head. Hopefully, the idea is as cool as what I thought of in my head. If this does well, I will upload the other chapters one after the other, If it does bad I'll just delete everything, but please be patient I procrastinate a lot and I want the writing to be good. Please be honest and let me know how you all feel about this, if you like the writing, the main character, the pacing, the storyline, length, anything, and everything, I need criticism but don't be a bitch about it.

[minheelovelee]

lovelovelove ur works ! would u mind doing a harua nsfw a-z? thank uuu

thank you for requesting!!!! 6 months later i actually wrote this piece… BUT. i wrote it yaaayyy. anon this gave me horrible horrible rua brain rot. i want a pretty boy with a little waist and long eyelashes. :(((

side note: i’m sooo so scared of switch/dom harua??? i’ve seen some discourse, but im not convinced. if anyone has anything to say about dom rua, id love to hear it :)))

harua nsfw a-z

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- being dirty and sticky is a big no for rua. he likes to shower or take a bath after sex, no exceptions. wash his hair for him, please. he gets so clingy after sex. he likes to be babied, just for a little bit. </3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- he likes when his waist and tummy are touched. slipping your hands under his shirt is a guaranteed way to hear some of his pretty sounds.

- arms are kind of his thing. he likes to link arms throughout the day and grab onto your biceps when getting ridden. arms also give hugs. he likes hugs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- he cums so fast. he is so sensitive.

- usually he’ll finish on his tummy or chest. he doesn’t cum inside without a condom, but hates wearing condoms. :|

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- he wants to get pegged. tied up and forced to take cock until he cries. :) he wouldn’t tell anyone that. obviously.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- no experience. he’s a real virgin and doesn’t know what he’s doing. he just tries to go use on your reactions. what actions cause this. and what actions cause that.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- cowgirl. he loves being ridden. especially if he can get tits in his mouth. he holds on really tight when u ride him, so it’s hard to move up and down. moving forward and back does the same for him. so sensitive :(((

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- it took a while for him to warm up to sexual stuff. he liked to goof around at first, so he could get comfortable. now that he’s okay with different situations, he can focus more on the task at hand rather than his anxiety or awkwardness.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- i think he shaves well. he leaves a little something to look at. otherwise, he likes it mostly bare.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- he likes to be roughed up during sex, so intimacy isn’t the first thing on his mind during the actual deed. some days he likes to be wined and dined before sex, other days he wants to be choked against the wall. romantic aftercare is preferred, though :)))

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- he doesn’t jerk off often. he saves himself for the actual deed. he cums buckets and it makes him sooo much more sensitive.

- if u bought him toys or told him to play with himself, he would. but on his own accord, probably not.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- choking. he likes the pressure mixed with the mindless feeling he gets. brain tingle. feel good. he’ll scratch your arm and shove you away, then ask for more.

- power play. playing hard to get is his specialty. he can be so, so easy sometimes. it’s cute. other times, he is such a pain in the ass. overstimulating him until he cries usually does the trick. then he’s putty in your hands once more.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- the couch is a favorite for him. it’s risky and gets his little heart pumping. he loves to act like he doesn’t want your hand down his pants.

- the bedroom is another fav. when he wants to put more effort in. especially if ur gonna overstimulate him. get some privacy, he’s so loud.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- the word “no”

- threats and talk of punishment. dont tempt him with a good time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- absolutely no armpits. he’s so ticklish. please don’t tickle him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- he’s not very experienced with oral, so it’s hard to judge his skills. he does a nice job for a beginner. he would 10/10 suck the strap.

- receiving head is one of his favorite things ever. anywhere and anytime. he would give up a lot for a single blowjob.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- he likes things slow. the build up really gets him going. sex with him consists of a lot of sloppy groping and messy kissing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- he’s so down. he’d be fine having quickies often. after a few too many, he’d be pretty desperate for the real deal.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- he would be okay experimenting. he wants to learn from his partners and try new things. there’s a lot to be said about his interest in the human body.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- he can go two rounds typically. he’s wiped after one, so he needs recovery time. after morning sex, he’s ready by mid-afternoon for round two.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- he’d be open to using toys. but he’s not the type to buy them for himself. he is very interested in different types of toys, he might ask for a certain one to try out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- rua only strikes when provoked. he’s very gentle and receptive to feedback. after being teased a bit by his partner, you won’t be surprised to see him acting like he’s clueless. suddenly he’s too tired to be on top and he doesn’t know where the clit is. top-tier actor.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- he’s soooo whiny. if one hand is on his cock, the other better be over his mouth. he can’t help but be loud when he feels good.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- rua is so inquisitive. he’s constantly asking questions.

- “did i do a good job?”

- “i need more. can i have more?”

- “can i taste you, please?”

- “i was so close. why did you stop?”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- average or slightly below. maybe 5 inches? he’s a small guy in general.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- his sex drive is a bit higher than you’d expect. he’s often finding ways to get home faster so he can indulge himself in his partner. he feels guilty for all of two minutes before he remembers why he craved this so bad.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- out like a light. if he’s worn out, he’s going right to sleep. if he’s hugged tight enough, he could sleep anywhere.

- but before he falls asleep, he likes to talk about little things. “i saw a cloud that looked like an elephant today.” “would you still love me if i was a worm?” “why do our feet smell and our noses run?”

[yummycrummy]

p1 hcs becuz I am normal abt characters 

-his real name is Rick but he prefers to go by Dude (I like to think that p2's name is Rick too but we aren't talking abt him rn) 

-in his 20s (like...26 or 28???) he looks older to some people though, if he even goes out

-has severe generalised anxiety disorder, PTSD, hypochondria, schizophrenia, social anxiety, and OCD 

- has Anthropophobia, Ataxophobia, Catagelophobia, Claustrophobia, Daemonophobia, and probably way more

-started to take medication at some point but eventually stopped because he thought they wouldn't work and make him more paranoid 

-he owns guns (A LOT of them) probably like, 25. he keeps them perfectly clean and safe, stocked up on his wall or in his panic room. (we'll get to that part soon) he'd probably have a collection of other weapons too, like a bunch of knives and axes (he also keeps them very clean, obsessively) 

-owns a little radio so he can listen to MTV, music that he's into, like Nickelback, KMFDM, Judas Priest, Oingo Boingo and Black Sabbath. helps him relax when he feels like he's really losing it. (he also tries to listen in on the feds, like if they're spying on him. he's that paranoid.)

-cuddles with champ often. especially when hes in bed. he loves that puppy as much as life itself (he'd kill for him) 

-gets sunspots when hes out in the sun for awhile 🌤

-smokes pot frequently. his house probably reeks of it, and so does he lets be real

-smoking too much of the pot can fuck him up, yet he doesn't stop. he doesn't know what else to do, and he doesn't trust doctors.

-fidgets alot. holds onto his cross when hes scared or in need of comfort. bites his nails too.

-has acne scars

-sensitive to bright lights (why he wears sunglasses all the time)

-gets sick really often. all the time. almost died during a few probably

-has shit posture 🦐

-breaks things when hes overwhelmed or angry

-has a bunker/panic room in his basement. keeps way more weapons down there, including MRE's and dog food as well. he thinks about the world coming to an end and so that's basically why he built it. 

-hardly ever leaves his house. feels like the government is going to come for him, so whenever he sees a black vehicle outside, like a van, he freaks the hell out. If he was going to go out and get the mail that day you can forget it. 

-cant hold down a job for long. Idk how this man even has a house (government probably gives him money) that is until he eventually gets evicted (hope this makes sense enough im sleepy)

-can't drive even though he took his learners as a teen. he just can't. makes him more nervous and unable to focus on a lot of things at once, so he either walks or takes the bus. 

-kids would often call him a demon or pull his hair. they thought he was a freak since he never liked to be around any of the other kids, he was always off in some corner or inside at recess, so he was sadly the target of their taunts. 

-his parents weren't redheads like him (recessive genes) so when he was born his mother thought he was the spawn of the devil. she never wanted anything to do with him, as did his dad, so P1 desperately tried everything to get their attention/approval, but nothing ever worked. he eventually left home when he turned 17. 

k thats mostly it ty for reading if u did eee

[desmond69miles]

YOOOO =3

can we get sfw + nsfw headcannons of ink demon bendy with a s/o with a really gothic style & is selectively mute? ( bonus points if Sammy constantly bugs them )

im genuinely curious abt how u would think abt it :0

[ take ur time answering this!! no rush at all by the way!! ; also sorry if my grammars kinda bad iys 3:37 am where im at rn + sry if i seem hyper to im just rlly excited rn😭

i’ve been gone for butt fuck long, my bad! I'm in the process of moving and lifes been a bit hectic. Hopefully im back now!

anyway, thank you anon for the bendy ask!! love writing for this inky-ass man.-

NSFW is under the cut!

-

[-: If we were to give bendy preferences, I know he'd go for a gothic s/o who is on the chubbier side. I say chubbier because A) body warmth, Bendy's a cold-blooded creature and he liked the feeling of your warm body and B) He likes your squishy thighs and tummy. And I know he’d be attracted to the darker, more gothic style. Inky black colors, blood red dresses, he likes the colors. 

[-: I think the ink demon would be good with someone that was mute or had periods of time where they were mute. Whether it be due to anxiety, overstimulation, or you just don’t have many words one day, I think he’d be understanding and would work around it. For many years, he didn’t have a voice, resorting to scribbling messy letters on walls and papers to communicate. If you want to talk while your mute, he’d simply lend you his hand so you can scribble on the wall with it; or he’ll carry around a sketchbook for you to write in, but more often than not he just makes you write with his claws. 

[-: I like the idea of Sammy bugging you all the time because he's interested in your music. It's so different from a classical tune, the drums and guitar, the vocals. He’d constantly be asking about your music. And since goth is a music-based subculture, you have a lot of music to show Sammy. 

[-: Going back to Bendy liking your style, he’d fiddle around with your clothing or accessories. He likes the bling of your necklaces and rings, and often plays with them when you are sitting together. He tries not to break anything, but accidents happen when you have sharp claws. If you do rat-nest hair, rest assured Bendy is curious on how you get your hair to do that. 

[-: I feel like Bendy would find you some victorian or romantic gothic outfits around the studio. He likes taking you to the costume department and letting you run around, picking up some of the black clothing used for character study. Another thing is that he collects small trinkets he think you would think is cool. Sometimes it’s a small rock, other times its a shiny gem he found in a pipe. 

[-: Bendy and Sammy get into a lot of fights around you, for your attention. Sammy wants to learn more about your subculture and what you remember from the outside world while Bendy wants to draw or walk around the studio with you. Good luck time managing. 

[-: Bendy is very interested in your makeup. Please let him draw on you! Speaking of drawing, he also likes to sketch you. His drawings are a bit blotchy and inky due to his skin, and often he'll mess up on a part by lingering too long and having ink form a puddle.

NSFW

[-: He chokes you with your necklaces, not to the point of them breaking but just enough so the chains and pearls dig into your throat.

[-: oh my god he loves your thigh highs. He nibbles around the soft flesh, forked tongue darting around and leaving opaque trails of ink behind. Just no promises that he won’t tear the thin fabric off!!

[-: Relating to the one where he draws on you, he’d love to lightly drag his claws over your stomach, back, or thighs and create delicate drawings onto your skin. Take this as a form of foreplay. (Which bendy isn’t exactly fond of, hes too impatient to go through it.)

[-: Bendy has a scent kink. I believe that he’s blind/has very poor eyesight and relies on noises and scent to find his prey. And his scent is very sensitive. He’ll ask if you can use non-strong soap or something that doesn’t upset his senses. Besides this, he likes to smell your clothing or even your undergarments.

Since i’m nice i’ll give you some elements of a fic i’m working on…

[-: Bendy’s ink that comes from his tentacles and/or cock act as an aphrodisiac. Providing a muscle relaxant and lube, it makes it easier for him to fit more and more of himself into you. He’s a big guy! Ranging at almost eight feet, it’s no surprise that he’s packing something big.

[-: Bendy’s big on CNC/Predator/Prey play. When you talk with him about safe words and the proper measures to have a safe time during CNC, Bendy gets really excited. He’s a demon, creatures of carnal lust and sin.

[-: He also loves to be worshipped. As Sammy has taught him, he’s somewhat of a god to this inky realm and he expects to be treated as one. Sammy does annoy him with his constant spouting, but he’s not opposed to you calling him Lord.

thank you for your request <3 My ask box is always open!! Feel free to send in batim requests.

[webdollzz]

HIII i actually have a request if u do genderfluid readers 😋😋 if u do could you do something with the reader not being out yet so when they stare at a dude hobie kinda assumes the worse ?? then they gotta explain they wanna BE him not WITH him yk

bonus if reader is constantly presenting very fem so its a bit of a surprise idk thank u 🤞🤞🤞

a/n: hii angel! of course I can do that, I hope this does my genderfluid babes justice <3

warnings: afab!genderfluid!reader x unlabed hobie?? he fws what he fws, anxiety on hobs part, gender envy on yours, albeit bad descriptors of being genderfluid? I'm trying. he thinks you're cheating/losing interest, british grammar???

You're out on a walk with Hobie, him wanting to take you to his favourite punk shops - buying you whatever you liked from in there cause he's just happy you're liking his style. You're all skirts and blouses - but you don't always want to be that. Sometimes you like it, sometimes it makes you want to crawl out of your own skin because you want to be more masculine that day, week, however long, but you're limited. Baggy clothes just won't cut it anymore.

So, whilst you were sat on a bench, enjoying your food with Hobie and you saw a boy walk past who is just radiating gender envy into you, your eyes stayed glued to him. They way his clothes can be stuck to him with no chest in the way, his hair short but fluffy, his rings decorating his slender, short nailed fingers, Hobie notices. He noticed your lack of response to what he had said before, he looked at you. Then looked where you were looking, his brows pinching together. He then watched you stare at this guy with so much intensity, it's as if he wasn't here at all.

"Wha' Ya know 'im?" He asked, still staring at you and your body language, a familiar unease bubbling in his stomach from the last experiences he's had with unfaithful girlfriends.

"Huh? Oh..no, no I don't." You said, finally taking your eyes off him and making eye contact with your now unhappy, nervous boyfriend.

"Oh? Why you starin' like tha', then?" He grabbed the drink out you lap, taking a long sip of it whilst staring at you over the bottle. His throat feels dry. Is the bottle shaking? Why are his hands shaking?

"I liked..his tee shirt. It had a cool band on it." You lied through your teeth, and Hobie could tell. He slightly shifted in his seat, deciding to leave this little problem for when you were back at his flat.

"Aight.." He shrugged, putting all your stuff into a bag. "C'mon, les do the res' of the shops before they close." He mumbled as he stood up, and you were expecting him to take your hand, but he didn't, now giving you the uneasy feel of dread in the bottom of your stomach. What had you done? The rest of the walk around was mainly quiet, Hobie only making a few comments here and there, but he never actually spoke first. He was just replying to you. You walked back to his flat in the quiet, your hands in the pocket of his jacket he let you wear once it got cold. He's upset but you're still his girl. Are you his girl?

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out where you went wrong this afternoon. You guys were having such a good time, 'why did he go quiet? Did he want the last cookie you took? No, he wouldn't get upset over something as silly as that. Did he not like the drink you chose? He drank it, it couldn't of been that bad. Why did he start asking about that guy that walke pas- oh fuck. He thinks I was checking him out. Fuck, fuck! how could you be so stupid? He sees his girlfriend starin' at a guy of course he's gonna assume that! How do I tell him I want to be him? Not be with him?'

You enter the flat behind him, shutting the door quietly behind you and taking off your shoes. You watch him wall over to his sofa, sitting himself down with a sigh before looking over to watch you. Seeing the worry and guilt etched onto your face, he spoke up.

"Ya' aight, doll?" He asked, almost in a whisper, not really wanting you to reply.

"We needa talk." You said, walking over towards him. He felt his heart drop, feeling like all his fears were coming true in one afternoon. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest, giving a small nod.

"Go on." He glanced off to the side.

"That guy today? I wasn't...I didn't check him out." You said, sitting in the armchair just opposite him, fiddling with your rings.

"Wha' was tha', then? Hm? 'Cause it certainly looked like you was checkin' 'im out." He said almost roughly, the tone making you wince. He's getting defensive, that's understandable.

"No, love - I wasn't. I..fuck. This is going to sound insane, and you're probably gonna feel differently once I say it but I have to say it, I do, i-"

"So say i'." He interrupted you, narrowing his eyes slightly, frowning.

"I...I didn't want to be with him- I just...I wanted to..be him." You admitted quietly, looking down at your hands. He paused, his frown growing but now in confusion. What?

"You...wanna be a boy?" He asked slowly and carefully.

"No- well, yeah. But only sometimes. I feel more masculine than I do feminine some days, but I've been unable to express that. So what you were seeing wasn't attraction, it was envy. Envy that he could look so boyish without even trying, just putting on clothes, not trying to be masculine." You huffed, your voice slightly saddened. Hobie was probably gonna feel completely different about you now.but it's better than him thinking you were going to cheat someday.

He stayed eerily quiet, staring at you. Studying you. Was that true? he couldn't tell. He's leaning more towards yes, though. Nobody would be this worried about this eccentric of a lie.

"Aight..'ow long 'ave you felt this way?" He carefully asked, sitting more upright.

"Since I was a kid, really. I only just realised recently what it was, though. My "tomboy" phase. When I started developing 'n' my clothes got baggier as my chest got bigger, but then I'd wear low cut things, I-..I'm sorry you only just found out - that I only just told you. I didn't know how to approach it, y'know? It's not an easy subject to come by. Hey it's your girlfriend, I sometimes don't wanna be your girlfriend cause I wanna be your boyfr-" He cut your rambling off by pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, his hand on your cheek. He brushed your hair behind your ear, pulling away from they kiss.

"Ay, listen. Tha's fine. I don' see ya any differently. Ya still the love of my life, yeah? Don' worry 'bout it, luv.If you wan', ya can have a bunch of my old clothes, for when ya feel like a lad. Can help you make fits." He comforted you, bringing you closer to him.

"Jus' tell me when ya' start feelin' like tha', yeah? I wouldn't wanna do sum' that makes my love uncomfortable." He said to you, kissing your cheek softly, then your temple, then your forehead. You smile, feeling like you could just cry from how accepting he was of that, of you.

"You'd really do that for me?" You mumbled, making him nod instantly.

"Of course, baby."

"And you don't feel any differently towards me?"

"No' in the sligh'est."

"You still love me?"

"I love you even more each second. Tha' ain't gon' change. I fell in love wit' ya, darlin'. Ain't gonna care 'bout you wantin' to be like that sometimes. Jus' means you can be like me." He smiled, kissing all over your face in-between his words, really wanting you to know he means that. You couldn't help it, a stray tear rolled down your cheek. And he wiped it away immediately.

"Nah, don' cry, my love. 'Cause then you're gon' make me cry." He mumbled, his hand sliding through your hair and to the back of your head, bringing you closer and kissing you again, sweetly and softly. You returned the kiss, of course. He gave you a few more quick kisses, before pulling away, his hand staying put.

"You wan' go pick sum aftershave ou' from my collection?" He offered.

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[kaiwritesgood]

“A Neurodivergent Night Out”

           “I like the outfit,” my boyfriend looked me up and down. I was wearing a holiday sweater with a deer on it, the green cargo pants he picked out with the cuffs folded up, and blacked-out vans with a green LAND ROVER beanie. He placed two five-dollar bills in my hand, “I just wanna play pinball,” I planned, and he nodded, “then I’m coming right back.”

           Recently, a friend sent me a last-minute invite to PINS, the bar, and arcade that replaced Claddagh in the Southside Flats, and after motivating myself and peeling my body off the couch, I got dressed. I smoked before I left to enhance my experience but once I arrived, I would come face to face with the scowling, bald bouncer who would toss out my plastic water bottle during the routine search and seizure of my bag only to tell me he had no memory of such event when I tried to retrieve it.

           “You can’t bring bottled drinks in,” he said it like I should have known, and handed a Vizzy and a White Claw to the guy behind him who then hid them behind the counter. Later, I’d have to let my friend know that the bald bouncer confiscated the drinks. I had TSA flashbacks.

           It was St. Patrick’s Day Weekend – my first mistake.

           The first floor was chaotic - loud, bright, and overstimulating, so was the second. But I had a mission: to find my friend. So I squeezed through crowds of yelling people, liquor splashing around in their unopened drinks, cut through bar lines, slithered around corners, got in the elevator, got off the elevator, walked up the steps then down them and up again, and when I felt ready to give up I came face to face with the friend who invited me as she left the stall I was about to enter.

           “This is what you were doing?” I showed her the unanswered texts on my phone.

           “Sorry,” she showed me this massive text message, “I was just reading this note from one of my student’s parents that made me bawl,” I looked past it, instead I looked at her.            She and her boyfriend waited for drinks at the bar and like Moses, I parted the Red Sea to get through to the change machine. It didn’t matter though because the Addams Family pinball machine stole my dollar. No pinball. I got hot. I felt a wave of frustration surface. And in the spirit of the holiday, I made my Irish exit.

           These places are packed, shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, bodies are sewn together, people are talking into each other’s mouths, and getting through means shrinking yourself by pulling your chest in, holding your breath, and repeating “excuse me” at varying volumes. People bring their roommates, their roommates’ friends, their coworkers, their neighbors, their exes, their friends, their friends’ exes, partners, their partners’ partners, husbands, wives, and even dogs. Yes, dogs.

           I looked down at my phone, “a dog shit on the steps,” popped up. I sat in my car after my anxiety snowballed into a panic attack. Another text, “Why did the owner keep walking?”

           After ten minutes I left Southside’s infamous PINS. I texted them from the car, “this is stressful lowkey,” I hit send and followed it up with, “sorry, that was rude. It was making me anxious.” The combination of the lights, the noise, and the people had successfully overstimulated my brain, “that place made me feel dizzy,” I sent, and she replied, “omg I felt so bad bc u seemed so stressed.”

           As I stuck my key into the ignition and sucked up my tears on the drive home, I wondered how much Klonopin it would take for me to be able to attend an event like that. And I didn’t even get to play any pinball.

           On the five-minute long drive home I kept thinking, I used to be good at this. I used to go out and drink and dance with strangers, I used to trek on foot to Cruze (RIP) in the Strip and ride in random cars, I used to go to work hungover, I used to smuggle alcohol into the Point Park dorms, I used to hotbox their bathrooms, and I used to be dragged back to my dorm after a victorious night. I used to let strangers in my home, I used to go to strangers’ homes, I used to live.

           And at some point, in the last few years, I stopped “living”.

           First Citalopram, then Sertraline then Venlafaxine then Hydroxyzine then Lorazepam then Clonazepam. They all gave me a chance. In the world of psychiatric medicine, I was absolutely ran-through. But nothing cleared my mind like psilocybin.

           I wanted to go out again, I told myself, I will go out again. But I just needed a way to make my brain want to do it. And this would be the way.

           The first time I did mushrooms, I felt fine. The second time I did mushrooms, I fell to my knees at the face of God – not literally but I did feel reborn. I took the most I ever had taken at a May Day festival, in the company of white hippies. I thought about my dad, who had experienced a religious resurgence, after doing PCP in the ‘90s. I wondered if he’d also been on the spectrum and just didn’t know it.

           Being on the spectrum means discovering a way to exist in a world that does little to accommodate you. The spectrum is vast and when I picture it in my brain, I see an outstretched spiral where the colors fade and bleed into one another. But within that spiral lives fear, confusion, disorder, and loneliness.            I often hear neurotypicals gawk at autistic people like children, “autism is beautiful”, “they’re so cute.” They think we see the world Rain Man-style. Many of them are the Tom Cruise to somebody’s Dustin Hoffman – absurdly impatient, annoyed, and impressed all at the same time. But what Tom Cruises’ character can’t see is all the inner turmoil that Dustin Hoffman’s is experiencing, the general confusion of being a sentient human being.            The only talent I share with Rain-Man is speed-reading, other than that, that movie is just that – a movie. Autism’s literally a spectrum disorder [1], and a version of Rain-Man likely exists, but I am not one of them.

             Earlier this week, I’d message a friend on Instagram whom I’d met online but we seldom hung out offline. Once we finally met up for the first time, it felt like I had known them awhile, a natural friendship. I’d come to know this person as Marlene.

             Marlene and I had the commonality of being two black girls in Pittsburgh with very little black friends – so sticking together was imperative.

             “Wyd this weekend?” I sent, then followed up with, “I need someone to go barhopping/club-hopping with to finish my story.” Then I paused, thought about what I would say next then sent it, “we can do it on shrooms.”

           “Let’s do it!!” Double exclamation points, this was a go.

           “We have to have a very interesting night,” I sent, “so I have good shit to turn into my prof. I’m thinking we def do karaoke.”

             Friday, 10:00am:

             “Ayooo,” Marlene texted first, “wanna meet at Blue Moon or my place first tonight?”            “Probably your place first bc I could park there easier.” Send. “We could do [mushroom emoji] and then split an Uber.”            “8:30 ok?” She asked after I let her know I was off at 6.            “I must eat my dinner first so that’s perfect.” Send. I eat dinner every night at the same time.

             7:00pm

                       I talk to the back of my boyfriend’s head as he clicks away on the computer, “I’m going out to Blue Moon with my friend, Marlene in a few.” He nodded, “it’s the gay bar” I explained, “we’re gonna do mushrooms.”            “Why?”            “Because we want to.”            He’s worried. I try to keep it casual, play it cool. I try to act like he has not seen the last few weeks of panic attacks and meltdowns, like we didn’t just spend 12 hours in the hospital two weeks ago, like he hasn’t ever had to leave work early because I’ve been inconsolable.            “You’re a handful,” he told me once, “but I do it because I love you.” And “love” as in the verb.            A few weeks ago, I submerged myself in pink bathwater while I read Donald Antrim’s memoir One Friday in April, he writes:            “We are burdens to our caretakers; we know this, no matter what you say to soothe us, no matter that you love us.” [2] This truth is something that I’ve yet to be able to face.

             I am meticulously planning every detail before I get ready.

           Must sit down and eat my French fries before I can leave. I’ve eaten French fries every day for the past four years. Can’t leave till I clear the plate. If I get hungry when I’m out I get anxious because there’s little to no chance of me being able to access “safe food”[3] (Goldfish lives in my bag for this reason).

             I type Marlene’s address into Google Maps (and Apple Maps to compare routes) even though I’ve been there twice, I check the street view - nothing has changed. Thank God. I plan where I am going to park. I repeat the plan, vocalizing the steps that I’m taking as I get ready - I will wear this pair of pants and this shirt with these shoes and bring this bag and pack these items. Just like the PINS bouncer, I am taking careful inventory of the bag’s contents but unlike him, I am repeating them; phone, wallet, keys, headphones, vape pen, sunglasses, weed gummies. Phone, wallet, keys, headphones, vape pen, sunglasses, weed gummies. Pen is in the zipped compartment on the right side of the bag, buried beneath the Ziploc with the gummies, my keys are wrapped around my wrist because I am about to get in the car and drive off, my phone is in my pocket not my bag but it’s likely I’ll put it in my bag at some point and the night and –.            Before walking out the door, I open the bag and look through it, close it, open it, look through it again. Unzip and rezip and unzip and rezip. I am aware I am being neurotic.            Neuroticism, “a ‘Big Five’ personality trait, has been associated with sub-clinical traits of both autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).”[4]

           WebMD is not very helpful here. “Neurotic” is when you’re afflicted by “neurosis”, the webpage tells me. I scroll on.            “Neurotic” is a term used to “describe mental, emotional, or physical reactions that are drastic and irrational. At its root, a neurotic behavior is an automatic, unconscious effort to manage deep anxiety.”[5]            At our last session, I told my therapist that I “felt like I was stuck in a permanent state of overstimulation” that had gotten so bad I went weeks without watching TV and had very much limited my internet usage (I avoided TikTok at all costs, YouTube was safer, no autoplay). After the day ended, I spent every night alone in the spare room (affectionately known as the “autism room”) and every night I would not allow myself to leave until I fell asleep. And that couldn’t be done until I swallowed 0.5mg of Clonazepam and 0.25mg of Hydroxyzine and stared at the rainbow bubbles on my ceiling coming from a light projector marketed toward children and a 4K YouTube livestream of an aquarium displaying fish swim across my iMac’s monitor. Probably uploaded by a random user in a different country who idealized aquatic life but ended up creating a secret elixir to put babies to sleep across the world. A hero to tired parents, fussy infants, and adults on the spectrum.

           I liked Blue Moon; I trusted Blue Moon. Gay bars had a different atmosphere than straight ones – they prioritized safety, and making you feel safe. The LGBQT+ community (sometimes affectionately called the “girls and gays”) don’t have the luxury of neglecting safety – in these spaces, safety is so imperative that they took the locks off the bathroom doors so no one could (successfully) overdose. I realized this when I went for a pee break – the fastest one I’ve ever taken – as I waited for that door to swing open.            “Safety is so much about perception,” Allison Harnden told me over Zoom a few weeks ago. She would know, she’s Pittsburgh’s Nighttime Economy Manager. When we talked (I had an entirely different plan for this story), I told her that I wondered what everything would look like if her job didn’t exist.            “Some of it [safety] is institutionalized and you know, maybe we need more awareness about what we are doing so that people feel safer.”            Safer, the word echoed against the walls of my brain. Safety. What did it mean to feel safe? And how’s feeling safe different from being safe? And why couldn’t my brain tell the difference?                        The safest I’d ever felt was in hospitals. And I hate admitting that to myself, knowing people die there, and people go into debt there, and people experience traumas there, and malpractice and racism exist, and I am a likely candidate for both.

           The last night I spent at Western Psych, the only item I was allowed was a book (no hardcovers) from my bag and the only book I had was All the Frequent Troubles of Our Days by Rebecca Donner, and although I related heavily to the title, I felt like I should put the book down, considering how strong the Ativan giggles came on.

            “It’s a spectrum,” I announced, presenting a hastily made PowerPoint on autism to my boyfriend, “I believe this leads to those.” I shared my findings with my therapist, and she agreed.[6] [7]

             I drew up a diagram in which a giant circle labeled AUTISM branched off into smaller circles, one labeled GENERALIZED ANXIETY DISORDER and the other DEPRESSION.

           Antrim also talks about how his anxiety over mundane tasks isolated him, and how he fantasized about leaving the hospital but didn’t know what came after it – and that paralyzed him.            “Dining out, driving a car, making coffee – these things were not possible. They were unsafe. My apartment was unsafe. The subway was unsafe. The street was unsafe. Back in the spring, in April, I’d left the Brooklyn hospital and passed in an instant from shelter to exposure. On one side of the steel door, I’d felt competent, ready to resume my life. On the other side of the door, I was frightened and lost.” [8]

                       What waited on the other side of my door that was so frightening to me? And why couldn’t I open it?

 8:00pm            She told me 8:30, but it’s likely I’ll be there around 9. That wasn’t the plan. I ignore my brain trying to give me a reason to panic. But it’s early, and everything’s packed, I took inventory several times. Can’t back out now.            I say bye to my boyfriend several times, every time I come back upstairs to make sure I have everything, I say bye again. I say “love you” in case I die at the Blue Moon.

 8:45-50pm…            The car seems to be driving itself. I have less than a quarter tank, but I can’t stop because it’s nighttime and I’m a girl and that wasn’t the plan anyways.            I arrive and like the last two times, I parked too far. I can’t see the street signs well in the dark, but somehow, I trek up the pathway toward Marlene’s door, awkwardly greeting a guy taking his dog to the bathroom. She buzzes me in, and I grab the door handle too soon, so she has to buzz me in again. I’m an annoyance, a burden.            After setting my things down on her dining table, I immediately pick up one of the three cats roaming the apartment. Marlene’s got her “getting-ready playlist” blaring through the TV. I enjoyed her free spirit.            We sat on the couch and split a piece of mushroom-infused chocolate. I hate chocolate. But I shoved it down, and we waited.

 9:30pm

             The first Uber arrives – a gray SUV. Marlene gets in on the side facing traffic. She is fearless. I scolded her about how that’s dangerous and she should get in on the side facing the sidewalk.            Our driver sang passionately, off key, to a breakup song called Gassed by an artist I’d never heard of called WESLEE – I think he really connected with it. It was quiet in the Uber for most of the ride, so I listened to him sing, even if it was awful.

“I choose to walk this lonely road Change the flow ‘Cause I need the space to grow

Hope you’d know

I will find my way back home”

           “Thank you so much,” Marlene and I repeated in sync when he dropped us off in on Butler Street in front of Blue Moon. We get in by only by the skin of our teeth – the doorman turned us away at first, “we’re full,” but once two people exited, we slid through. Fire code, I thought. I remembered more of my conversation with Allison, and when she talked about how buildings and venues must pass an array of inspections and trainings to have the luxury of hosting such a sacred space as this.            We walk in and head straight for the bar. Neither of us drink.            “Can I get a fucking water?” Marlene yelled over the music, “I just want a fucking water.” And I wanted a sprite. And time was becoming distorted. “I got this,” I told Marlene, “I’m gonna make this mine.”            And when the bartender gallivanted over to us, I proudly spoke up, “could we get one water and one sprite please? Thank you so much.” I smile. I look at Marlene, “I did it, dude.”            While we waited, I couldn’t stop myself from looking around the bar, for perceived threats or anticipated problems. Or a place to sit until karaoke started.            “There’s an empty table,” I whispered, “go snag it!” Marlene demanded, and I did.

           And I sat at that empty table and watched people socialize and play pool and drink and be gay, in every sense. I smiled at the Jello-Shot Man who wore nothing but leather garter belts and was always so nice, he smiled back. There’s that “wrong” feeling – being in a bar and not drinking, but alcohol is a fad that’s fading fast (at least in my friend group), and the kids like psychedelics these days. And benzodiazepines don’t mix well with alcohol.

           I was elated to receive a text from Jess, my best friend, who lived up the street and wanted to make it down in time to see our performance.            In the front of house, people waited for drinks and for karaoke to start – any minute now. In the back, they played pool and some nameless buddy comedy played on an old TV anchored to a corner (it still had the back attached to it). This is where people come to socialize, I thought, it’s normal. I snuck off into the bathroom to hit my pen, the THC mixing with the psylocibin in my brain.

           “I got you a song request slip,” Marlene handed me a tiny white paper slip with a space for my name, a song, and an artist. I knew I had to do this.            And I’d put on the biggest mask[9] – I’d play neurotypical for the night. I’m a local, who frequently visits bars around town, I know people, I’ve been here before, I’m not new to this, I’m a professional.            And I would begin to rehearse and model the behaviors around me, mimic their tone, their sayings, and their stances.

 10:00pm (maybe?)

           The bartender changed the TV’s input – it now displayed a graphic with the title THE EDDIEOKE SHOW. We never did find out who Eddie was.

           We checked the karaoke queue and “Kat” was number four, Marlene number five. I didn’t know who Kat was.            “Is ‘Kat’ supposed to be ‘Kai’?”            And while we tried to figure out who Kat was, I felt a familiar pair of arms grasp me from behind – Jess! Thank God. Being with friends was a natural remedy. And now I had two with me. A feeling of relief consumed me.

           “Kat!?” The DJ would yell into the mic, “where’s Kat at?” I looked around to see if Kat would take the stage, “Kat’s got stage fright,” but she didn’t. So, Marlene, Jess and I approached the DJ booth.            I leaned over the edge, “I think I’m ‘Kat.’”            He squinted.            “It says ‘Kai’. You said my name wrong.”

           Marlene and I took the stage, she agreed to be my backup singer. “You do the girl parts,” I delegated, “and I’ll do the boy parts.”

             A micro dose is just that, I thought, micro. I can do this.

           And in this club full of (mostly) Caucasian gay males, after a night of showtunes and ballads, and Alanis Morrisette, an instrumental version of Notorious B.I.G.’s Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems, blared through the speakers. New mission unlocked: keep up with the lyrics on screen.

           I walked up to the mic stand, it towered over me at 5 feet, but once I took the mic off the stand and pushed it to the side, something came over me. And it wasn’t the usual terror that visited me every day.

           “Now, who’s hot, who’s not?            Tell me who rock, who sell out in the stores?            You tell me who flopped, who copped the blue drop?            Whose jewels got rocks?            Who’s mostly Dolce down to the tube sock?”

             We caught the attention of a Black security guard – likely the only other Black person in the club. He sported a hoodie with the words IT’S A PHILLY THANG plastered across in some bulbous bubble letters. He joined us on stage and helped us finish the song because I ran out of breath butchering it.

           Jess was right in front of the stage, filming us like Amy Poehler and her camcorder in Mean Girls.

           At the end of our performance, Marlene would grab the mic and yell, “we’re on shrooms” and I would collapse in a fit of laughter. 10:30-11pm

           The night was still young (-ish, nobody had the right time). I would finally play Pinball at a place called Mixtape, and none of the machines stole anything from me. All night I had catastrophized, prepared for things to go wrong, and pretended like I didn’t butcher arguably Notorious’ most famous song.

           While waiting for our final Uber, we watched a couple storm out of Mixtape, the girl yelling after the boy, “why are you walking away right now?” We all stopped talking so we could figure out the situation, immediately we sided with the girl. He stormed off, hands stuffed in his pockets, while she continued yelling, “you left me to pay your fucking tab!” That’s when he grabbed her and pleaded, “let’s not argue out here – outside”, probably because he noticed three strangers watching.            And in the Uber, I thought about them, and my boyfriend and me. And I wasn’t happy per-se, just relieved. Our situation was not one of my own wrongdoings, just a result of my brain being wired differently. And he’d never treat me like that, even when my illness (“disorder”, whatever) tries to separate us. Maybe I am not the burden I once thought I was.            

             “I remember that Friday in April, that day on the roof, that time, that life, those friends, the months and years, that eternity. What will you remember? What will you write in your letter to a friend you can trust? And were you to write and send that letter, do you think that it could change the world?” [10]            

    [1] Lord, C., Brugha, T.S., Charman, T. et al. Autism spectrum disorder. Nat Rev Dis Primers 6, 5 (2020).

[2] Antrim, Donald | One Friday in April (pg. 92) (2021)

[3] Dr. Shea, Elizabeth | eating disorder or disordered eating? Eating Patterns in autism | National Autistic Society (2016)

[4] Park, Shin-Ho et al. “Neuroticism and the Overlap Between Autistic and ADHD Traits: Findings From a Population Sample of Young Adult Australian Twins.” Twin research and human genetics: the official journal of the International Society for Twin Studies vol. 20,4 (2017)

[5] Key, Powell, Alyson, Bhandari, Smitha, MD | WebMD What is Neurotic Behavior? (2021)

[6] DeFilippis M. Depression in Children and Adolescents with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Children (Basel). 2018 Aug 

[7] Zaboski BA, Storch EA. Comorbid autism spectrum disorder and anxiety disorders: a brief review. Future Neurol. 2018 Feb

[8] Antrim, Donald | One Friday in April (pg. 64) (2021)

[9] Stanborough, Joy, Rebecca, Stevenson, Julia | Autism Masking: To Blend or Not to Blend – Healthline (2022)

[10] Antrim, Donald | One Friday in April (pg. 135) (2021)

[audrey-emeralds]

Every Halloween | Tate Langdon

Pairing: Tate Langdon x Female!Reader

Summary: Since the first time Tate saw Y/n he can't wait to see her again, another Halloween.

Warnings: Stalking

A/n: Happy birthday to Evan Peters who played Tate Langdon! (Even though I am a bit late.)

You was still in high school when he spotted you. Such a sweet thing. In her witch costume, dressed in all black like it was some funeral. He would take you there on your first date.

To a funeral of a person, you hated the most. He thought you would like that. You would seem satisfied with your worst enemy's death.

Man, that skirt was killing him. It wasn't even too short. You just looked too good in it. He only saw you now, in this costume, with two of your friends, just wanting to go out for the scariest holiday there is. Not even having a clue that you are monitored by a dead guy.

Despite wearing all black and not being the only one wearing it, you are a far more interesting treat than other girls around you. Soon all your smiles turn into frowns the moment your friends didn't have there eyes on you.

Oh, another unlucky soul.

You watch all the costumes and people showing off thinking why wouldn't you leave the anxiety for the rest of the year. It's Halloween after all, the best day there could be. When you didn't need to pretend you had a will to live.

While you went back into your happy mode, Tate still stalked every move you made. Like a camera capturing every bit of you. At this point, it's been half an hour and he knows that if he was to see you again, years from this day he would know it was you. Even if you change, he would know.

He haunted your u shadow long into the night before he was to return to the Murder House, not having a chance to approach you.

He was enraged by himself. Why couldn't he stay out a bit longer, see where you live and do you even live here. Now you might move, making it impossible for him to ever find you again.

In some way Tate got over you, accepting it as it is.

Halloween came again with Tate finally was being able to get away from the miserable walls of his prison.

Outside he had so much more to experience. What fall made of nature, people's failed attempts at looking scary, you...

You.

It was you. Wearing a costume of vampire, in all red. Fake blood already stained your neck, fangs showed off, legs out on the open.

As if you got even better than the last year. Now he wouldn't let you go. Today he got his other chance, to find out who you are.

" Y/n Y/l/n. " Dark-haired friend of yours yells for all to hear including Tate, revealing your identity. A name, good something to start with.

That night he found out more than expected. Your friend was just giving him information without a question, talking and talking about your memories.

Asking you how your cousins who live here are doing. Aha, cousins, that's the reason for your presents here, hm?

Talking about graduation which will for both of you take place in just a few months. Alright, a high school student. The name of your school, the school club you just started going to, the name of your Spanish tutor...

She was spilling details about you with yourself not caring a single bit at the fact of someone hearing this information. Someone who would use it to their advantage.

The next year he researched. Found your name, family, social media...

Everything linked to you, Tate knew of. If there was a quiz about you, he would without a doubt win it with ease.

The third Halloween came up, and you were again out, trying to forget every single bad thing going on in your life.

And like last Halloween Tate was just behind you, to get even more updates on your life, he didn't know of. He didn't want to talk to you, only observe.

It was always the same until last Halloween when you didn't come with your friends.

He was a tall browned hair guy, with brown eyes, muscles, stylish jeans. Looked like any high school athlete that there is. He didn't even have a costume.

But he didn't act like one, squeezing your hand in comfort, whispering you quotes from books...

Tate could make the two of you separate. He could. But he didn't.

The reason why he didn't do it, well. He still stalked your social media and your friends. He knew of that guy because you followed him.

Though he didn't catch Tates attention. It was your face. The happy face. Genuine happiness spread on your face and he couldn't remember seeing you like this.

Not on your school photos, family dinners, family trips, school trips...

Only when it was with him. He saw the same happiness that day as well. It's like you finally found your will to live and now you are using it.

Halloween passed, you were not seen by Tate in real life, because he saw how your life moved on.

A college graduate, living the city of your dreams, with a dog and your husband, the same guy that made your days.

Just like the first time, he accepted his fate, what else is there to do. The best thing was that you were happy, with or without him.

Never to meet the guy who loved you so much that even after your last Halloween here is still checking on you daily.

That is his source of happiness, seeing you have it, even with him not in the picture.

[silversatoru]

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

[e-jaegerenthusiast]

lurk~toji fushiguro x reader

(part 2 to u&i bully!megumi)

art by sab_xcvii

I am respectfully looking down. down.

had to down a couple of beers to get through this bro—

all characters are of age.

based on the song ‘lurk’ by the neighbourhood

warnings/tw; smut, cheating?, age gap, rough sex, choking, daddy kink, spitting, size kink, slight dumbificantion, degrading, praise kink, nipple play (both receiving)

summary; what happens when you learn more about megumi? and believe it too.

w.c; 6k

you’d been thinking about megumi all weekend. his face and all the events from the prior day swirling inside your head as you pondered them over and over, trying and hoping to find an apology in midst of all the pants shared between you both. of all the words he said to you.

just a simple apology. an apology to ease your heart, an attempt to clear all the things he put you through. all the times he humiliated you, all the times he embarrassed you and made you feel unimportant, unwanted. that’s all your beating heart wanted from him.

yet he never said those two words. not as he kissed you, not as he led you to the backseat of his charger, not as he slid in your mouth, or not as he fucked into you.

your chest filled with anxiety, he used me. curling up in your comforter as you tried to push away your negative thoughts with the soft music playing in your ears.

that was until your phone gave out a ding. picking it up, the light of it filling your dark, depressing room as you read the text with an unknown contact.

‘hey, bunny’ it read.

you squinted your eyes, where had you heard that nickname before? ah yes. the parking lot. the devil himself.

you groaned, locking your phone and wrapping yourself in your warm duvet again. your phone lit up again with the sound of his text. you blinked a few times as you shook your head and unlocked it again.

‘forgot to tell you’ as you read that, you pressed the contact and saved it as “megs </3”

your heart filled with a sense of hope, the little burnt flame igniting within you again, it died down as soon as it had been planted in you as you read the next text,

‘i got your number from one of your friends’

you sigh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you. not fuckin-

you were brought out of your thoughts as another text popped up

‘hello?’

‘y/n?’

‘did that bitch give me the wrong number?’

you wish you could just type out a lie, saying he got the wrong number, and forget that megumi fushiguro ever existed in your life. sure, maybe it was petty of you to hold a grudge against him for not apologizing even after the sensual acts that took place between you both the day prior. however, it was important to you. you needed to know he actually felt guilty those times. you need to know he felt as shitty as you did on the inside. you needed to know he wasn’t just using you. he technically never said that either, just told you to not say it.

nevertheless, you’re typing away before you can stop yourself. you should have.

‘hey ‘gumi’

‘no you got the right number’

you don’t really know what else to say. waiting patiently as the 3 dots start moving, signaling he’s typing.

‘good.’

‘i’ll pick you up in 30. be ready.’

you glance at the time on your phone, 5:30. you had enough time.

‘okay’

‘see ya cutie’

you get out of your bed quickly. taking a quick shower as the warm water helped you relax. you wear some jean shorts and a tank top with a silver necklace hanging lowly on your neck. you do some light makeup, only a little colorless lipgloss and mascara, as you tie your hair up in a ponytail. a few strands coming loose, not really being bothered to re-do it, you head down the stairs and go outside to sit on the porch, waiting for megumi.

in a couple minutes, his black charger comes to a halt infront of your house, you get up, grabbing your phone and your small purse, sliding it around your neck as you make your way to his car.

he leans to the passenger side and opens the door for you, giving you a smirk as you get in, gaze faltering on your jean shorts as he licks his lips. you give him a small smile, “hi.” your voice is soft as you observe him, the smell of rough lavender fills your nose this time instead of the cedarwood and musk, it seems gone now. his raven hair is damp atop his head, signaling he just came out of the shower.

he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, his hair brushing your forhead as he pulls away. a blush creeps on to your cheeks, “hey, beautiful.” he smiles as he fixes his gaze on the road and presses the gas pedal.

he puts his hand on your upper thigh, “how are you?” you bite the inside of your cheeks, “fine.” his gaze stops on you for a second before looking back at the road, “you’re lying.” you sigh, trying to come up with an excuse. how could he tell whenever you’re lying? “I uhm.. I just have a bit of a headache.”

he hummed, “if you say so.” he gave you a smile as he squeezed your thigh. you decided to push all your thoughts away for now and only focus on him. you put your hand on his, “where are we going?” he looked at your hand with a smile, “my house.”

your gaze fixed on him, “why not outside?” he looked over to you, “I lost my phone somewhere at the house.. but if you don’t wanna go there I don’t mind. we could just hang outside.” he said with a shrug.

you thought it over for a few seconds, he was offering you a chance to see his house, where he spent most of his childhood in, so if you got the chance to see more of him, you would be a fool to not take it. you gave a soft squeeze to his hand on your thigh, “no, yeah let’s go to your house.”

he smirked as he made a sharp turn into a street, his knuckles flexing on the wheel. this was pretty far from your house, the houses in the neighborhood were all a fair distance away from eachother, each one looking modern and rather large.

he pulled into the parking way of one of the houses, as you looked up from your window, you could see the house was just as big as the others, glass panes covering one whole side of it instead of walls. the parking garage’s door slid up with a press of megumi’s finger on a remote. he parked the car and you both got out. a sudden feeling of anxiety swimming in your chest as you saw the big black ram next to where megumi had parked, was his dad home?

megumi grabbed your hand in his, holding you close and interlocking your fingers as you both made your way up a small flight of stairs. “my dad’s not home, I think he’s at the neighbors’ house, he’s his friend.” you swallowed, your shoulders relaxing as you nodded.

he let go of your hand as he opened a door that led to the huge living room, mostly black and dark grey furniture everywhere, it was calming in a sense. he twirled around with his arms open infront of you, “as you can see the house’s pretty fuckin huge. I hate it— so I’m not gonna give you a tour or anything. but,” you frowned at his words, fidgeting with your fingers. he moved towards you, smiling, “how about you give yourself a tour as you call my phone and try to find it? please? I need it for this one senior assignment I’m getting today.” you nodded slowly as he flashed you a big grin, kissing your cheek before storming off and yelling, “my sister needs my help with something! I’ll be back!”

with that, he left you alone standing in the large empty living room. you sighed, finding his phone seemed to be pretty important to him. you got your phone out of your purse, starting to dial megumi’s number as you wondered around the house. he didn’t seem fond of this house, it was really big though so you thought family members could easily ignore each other for days. that’s probably what megumi would do.

you dialed his number over and over, looking around the vastly sized kitchen, the dining room, and some other rooms downstairs. megumi had left upstairs so you thought that’s probably where the bedrooms are and he had most definitely looked around in there. so you decided to take the stairs that spiraled down instead. 

as you made your way down the stairs, a faint sound of the bass of music hit your ears. you followed it down the narrow hallway that was filled with empty white vases and fake plants. the music was getting too loud for it to be a ringtone. it led you to a big white door, you opened it as you stepped inside.

you were met with an even bigger looking room than any of the ones you had seen on the main floor, mirrors were covering all its walls, the music loud as it blasted through the soundproof ceiling, there were lots of equipment and machines, oh. it was a gym. was it bigger than the living room and kitchen combined? probably.

you dialed megumi’s number again, walking around the gym, staring at everything with wide eyes. how fucking rich were they? their own personal gym right under their penthouse, you scoffed at the excessive wealth they had, or his dad had.

you heard a light vibration, going towards it as you could see a faint light on the ground next to a towel, right under the mirrors on the wall, you bent over to pick it up, megumi’s phone. finally.

as you stood back up, your eyes set on a huge, tall body in the mirror standing behind you, before you could even look up to see who it is, you screamed and turned around, jumping back against the mirror, closing your eyes as you brought your hands in front of you offensively, as if you could do any damage with them.

you slowly opened your eyes as you heard a deep chuckle, toji fushiguro stood infront of you. tight workout shorts sticking to his legs, bringing out his huge thighs, a black tank top sat upon his chest, a slight wet ring formed around the front of it as his body was covered in sweat, glistening.

his body was beyond huge, making you look so insignificant standing before him. he ran a veiny hand through his damp hair, bicep flexing as he did so, “done staring, pretty thing?” your mouth went dry, as if you weren’t practically drooling seconds before.

you could hear your heartbeat in your own ears, you were about to fucking black out. and you didn’t know why, his presence was so intimidating, the smell of cedarwood and musk filled the aroma around him, making you dizzy. so that was his smell yesterday in the car.

he towered over you, licking slightly at the scar on his lip, “cat’s got your tongue? or has megumi got a deaf plaything this time?” at the mention of your hearing, you tried to focus on the loud song playing instead of your unsteady heartbeat. the song was a forgein rap, turkish maybe? as it blasted through the gym and bounced off the ceiling.

you cleared your throat slightly, not trusting the power of your voice right now, “I uhm.. no.. I was just looking for fushiguro’s phone, and I uh.. found it here.” you waved the phone in front of your face, trying to show him.

he raises a brow, turning around and moving towards what seems to be a cable crossover machine. he grabs the hem of his black top with one hand, sliding it over his head as he dries the sweat around his neck, leaving the shirt there like a scarf. you stand there, staring at his muscular back. pressing your thighs together, why were you pressing your thighs together? this was megumi’s dad.

megumi’s phone kept buzzing in your hand, you looked at the screen, notifications on notifications showing there, you couldn’t see the texts unless it was unlocked but you could see the contact names, most of them were not saved, the rest being emojis.

“7 notifications from 💥”

“4 notifications from 👅”

“3 notifications from 🧜🏻‍♀️”

you could feel the rage settling in your stomach and all the way to your head, having a tight grip on his phone. the sound of weights bumping into eachother made you jump, looking up at where toji stood in between the machine, his arms working with the cables as his pecs flexed and unflexed.

the man glances at you from the side of his eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat. he keeps opening and closing his arms with the wire, his gaze not leaving you as you practically have a staring contest. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them as the scar on his lip tugs upwards with his smirk.

he stops moving his arms, making you flinch again with the sound of the weights hitting the metal, you find yourself pulling away your gaze from his crotch. when did you start staring at the bulge in his shorts?

you felt dizzy again as he started walking towards you slowly, his manly perfume filling your nose again. taking the damp black top around his neck and tying it around his forhead, he makes it into a makeshift headband as he pulls his hair back out of his forhead and up. you gasp at the sight, looking down at the ground in as your face starts heating up.

he stops a few inches infront of you, holding his large palm out to you as he motions for you to give him megumi’s phone. the loud forgein rap seems to fade away as his deep voice rings in your ears again, “explosion one’s ‘bitch that sucked him off real good,” he scrolled through megumi’s notifications with his thumb. the big phone looking tiny in his large hands, he held a bored expression on his face as he made your heart clench with each sentence, “tongue one he went down on,” he scoffs and chuckles darkly, “damn brat, the mermaid one must be the girl he fucked in my pool last night and denied of ever doing so when I busted his ass.” he twisted the phone in his hands and held it out to you.

a horrid expression filled your eyes as you kept your gaze on his chest, “oh and you must be the sunset girl, hm?” you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes, “w-what??” he leaned forward and tucked megumi’s phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts, his big hand covering the majority of the cheek of your ass, making you shiver as your nose was practically in his neck, his musky scent making you dizzy.

as he pulled away, he whispered in your ear in a voice you could only recognize as seductive scary, “you look smarter than to be used by my excuse of a son, doll.” you blinked a few times. trying to register what just happened before quickly getting past him and making your way out of the gym and upstairs.

your head was swarming with thoughts as you sat in the living room, clutching megumi’s phone in your hands. you stared at the spiraling stairs that would lead you up to where he probably was. you were trying to mentally get yourself ready, should you ask him about it? should you even mention it? toji’s voice clouded your brain, he called you megumi’s plaything. was it true? were you just like all the other girls? getting used by him and getting lost between the many ‘emoji’s’?

you took a deep breath, heading upstairs and calling for megumi. his head plopped out of one of the rooms, hair in fluffy spikes as he smiled at you. “did you find it?” you nodded and walked towards him.

giving him his phone, he motioned for you to join him in his bedroom, sitting on his chair in the corner of the room as you sat on his bed in the center, looking at him anxiously as you gripped the bedsheets beneath your palms.

he was focused on his phone, scrolling through something with furrowed brows and an amused expression before he looked at you standing up and grabbing what seemed to be his car keys from his desk.

“hey uhh.. I’m sorry one of my friends is in big trouble, I gotta go but I’ll be back okay? do you wanna stay here until I come back?” he waited for your answer, lightly bouncing his foot as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the room and to wherever he was going.

you felt like you could cry any moment now, you just needed him to go away, to not be here to witness your pathetic tears and emotions. you bit on your bottom lip, should you wait for him? or go home? “uhm, yeah I’ll wait..” you said as his ocean blue eyes stared at you in anticipation, you couldn’t say no to them.

a wide smile came onto his face, giving you a salute and a small “thank you” before he hurried out of the room, getting downstairs with fast steps that you could hear.

you took a deep breath, falling back down on his bed, it smelled like him, like lavender. god what where you doing? your eyes felt heavy like your heart, why did you give him a chance to slither his way into you heart? he was supposed to stay your bully.

before you knew it, you fell asleep on his bed, your brain too swarmed by your thoughts that you wanted to just push away. you felt like you were half asleep, still being aware of your surroundings.

you opened your eyes to a vibration, it was your phone in your hands, you looked at the time, it had been almost an hour since you laid on his bed, not even aware if you were fully asleep or not.

you sighed, getting off his bed and out of his room, you looked around for a bathroom, finding it not too far from megumi’s room, in the same hallway a few steps down.

when you came out, you turned around only to bump into a chest, looking up, you covered your mouth with your hands, “I’m sorry! uhm...” it was megumi’s dad, he had a grin on his face, his hair damp atop his head, his chest bare, and a towel hanging around his torso.

he gave you a look up and down, “you’re good, where’s megumi?” he waited for your answer, but saw you fidgeting with your fingers and pouting, “he left you didn’t he?” you nodded weakly.

he brought his hand to his own chin, rubbing at it as he seemed to be deep in thought of something, then his gaze caught yours, your eyes dilating as a devilish grin made its way accross his lips.

before you could blink, your back was pressed against the wall of the hallway, his large hand around your throat as he towered over you. leaning his face close to yours as your eyes fluttered with his minty breath in your face, “then how about,” he tightened his grip on your throat, making you choke on a breath as he continued, “we get some revenge on him, yeah?”

you were speechless, this all felt like a fever dream. that’s it, maybe you hadn’t even woken up yet, maybe you were still sleeping soundly in megumi’s room. but the wetness pooling between your legs as he parted them with his knee said otherwise.

he smashed his lips onto yours, kissing you at a slow pace until your small hands were grabbing at his chest, pushing him away to look up into his dark eyes, “t-this is wrong— what are we—“

he sighed, “your little boyfriend is out fucking someone else right now, please don’t tell me your little teenage heart is in love with him or some bullshit.” he was right. you were nothing to megumi, you never had been. so why shouldn’t you act like he was nothing to you?

his eyes were searching your face, his brows scrunched together. you grabbed a fist full of the back of his hair and brought his lips down to yours, you could feel his smirk against your lips before he started to kiss you back again, this time rougher.

his tongue pushed against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him taste you. the smell of musk was all around you, making you dizzy as you grabbed at his hair. the kiss was a sloppy mess, his tongue dominating yours and biting at your bottom lip as he pulled back.

he pressed his bulge against your center, making you let out a small whimper as you looked up at him with doe eyes. he leaned in again, but this time his lips went to your neck, his tongue pressing against your pulse point as the beat of your heart got faster and faster. you could feel him sucking and nibbling on the skin of your neck, leaving trails of crimson and rosemary all over your collarbone as you shuddered and small pants left your mouth.

his large hands were pressing into both sides of your hip, the towel around his torso shuffling as he practically grinded your clothed center onto it. on of your hands was laced through his hair, grip tightening as his mouth traveled down to your chest, pressing wet kisses right above your boobs that were still covered by the material of your shirt. your other hand held onto the large muscle of his bare bicep tightly, crescents forming from your nails as he bit the hard bud of your nipple from above your shirt.

your hand on his bicep traveled to his chest hesitantly, so hesitant that when your fingers accidentally brushed against his left nipple, he hissed, a shudder running down his spine and pulling back from where he was marking you up. you studied the loon on his face closely, his eyes were filled with lust, looking you up and down as he towered over your small form.

you looked back at the hand that was resting on his pec, his nipple hard right between your index and middle finger. you took a deep breath, slowly moving forward towards his chest, he watched you as you pressed a kiss to his nipple, his arm twitching from on the wall, the fingers from his other hand tightening around the flesh of your tiny hip. he wanted to stop you, let you know who’s in charge, but he decided to wait, wanting to know what you’re up to.

you pressed another kiss to the bud, only this time, your tongue pressed against it as you pulled away, earning a grunt from him. you stuck out your tongue circling his nipple in slow movements as your other hand trailed down his defined stomach, grabbing onto the self-made knot of his towel as you attempted to pull him closer than he already was.

the way your tongue was swirling around his nipple as you sucked slowly, kissing it after each nibble had him weak. he was god awful thankful that you couldn’t see his face right now, because his expression was not him. his face was burried in your neck, the tip of his nose a light pink that dusted his defined cheekbones too. his eyes were scrunched shut, his nose upwards as his mouth was agape, small pants and broken breaths leaving his pretty lips.

when you finally got the knot of his towel free, the white material going loose around his torso, you bit down on his nipple gently. that was his breaking point, the rope that finally snapped. hearing a deep growl from him, you could feel large hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you up so you were flush against him, both your legs locked around his waist and your hands tight around his neck as you hid your face in between his two large pecs.

you were so lost in the strong smell of the shampoo previously used on his chest that you only felt his girth in between your legs when he started walking you both down the hallway. your eyes widened, looking down in between you and at the generous amount of manhood he had to give you with a gasp. you were dumbfounded, stuttering over your words as you tried to form a sentence, he was walking you both somewhere, a deep chuckle vibrating from his chest as you pressed your head to it again.

“ssshh don’t worry about that, doll.” he said, rubbing circles onto the flesh of your ass with his thumb. you pulled your head back from his chest as you felt his hands shuffle, throwing you onto a bed as you bounced a few times, your hair fanning around you as you closed your eyes, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is to come.

your eyes opened wide as your nose picked up the now familiar scent of lavender, looking around you in a haste, you were on megumi’s bed.

you looked forward, the sentence you wanted to scream at toji dying down on your tongue when you saw him crawling towards you with a malicious grin, the veins in his large biceps flexing with every moment, his cock standing upright under his stomach, the tip red and angry as precum dribbled onto the lavender-smelling sheets below you both.

his large form is above you, hands on either side of your head as he leans down again, grabbing at your shirt in an animalistic manner, you thought he was gonna tug it over your head, closing your eyes. you opened them back up when you heard a loud shredding sound. he had ripped your top to pieces, the fabric ripping in two beside you as your naked chest was exposed to him.

he raise his brows, the side of his mouth where his scar resided rising up into a half-smirk, “no bra? fucking dirty.” he grabbed one of your boobs, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he took the other one his mouth, humming around it as his long eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, his gaze coming back to stare you in the eyes as you watched him. “were you prepared to get fucked by him again?” he said in between pressing his tongue against your nipple, earning small pants and whimpers from you.

“didn’t expect to be splayed out like this under his dad instead did you now?” his voice was deep, he sucked on your nipple repeatedly, making sure to give the other one the same attention as he rolled the other bud in between his large fingers. you moaned out loud when you felt his sharp teeth biting into your chest, “speak when you’re fucking spoken to.” he said as he landed a slap on your other boob, you whimpered, nodding your head “y-yes— I mean— n-no I didn’t—“

he gave out a dark chuckle, his hot breaths driving you crazy as he switched between your boobs, sucking and biting on the other one as he held them both in his hands, “haven’t even fucked you, yet you’re all dumb under me already.” he said with another chuckle as he hummed around your nipple.

he came back up to your lips, his huge cock pressing into your clothed center. you felt his fingers wrap around your throat, rising your head slightly from the pillow and bringing your face closer to his, your nose touching his, his gaze feral as it pierced you, his lips inches away from you as you could feel his hot breath over your lips.

he gave you a passionate kiss, his tongue diving into your mouth before he pulled away, your lips following him to get more, but he only chuckled darkly again, looking down at where his cock was practically twitching against you. “you gonna take your slutty fucking shorts off? or should I rip them as well huh?” you shakes your head rapidly, “n-no.” you squealed.

he raised his brows, his gaze moving between your eyes and your lips, his hand tightening around your throat, “no, who?” he nearly growled out. you squeezed your eyes together, breath catching in your throat as you whine out “n-no… daddy.” he smirked, giving a single smooch to your parted lips before loosening his hand around your throat, “atta girl, now c’mon, do as you’re told and I’ll play nice on you ‘kay?”

your hands were shaky as you lifted your hips, sliding your shorts down halfway to your knees, struggling to get out of them under his dark gaze. he groaned, rolling his eyes as his hands replaced yours, tugging the shorts down fully and throwing them somewhere on the floor.

he looked down at you, licking his lips. a wet patch had formed on your panties, his large hands coming to your hips, grabbing onto the waistband of your underwear before he groaned again, “too much fuckin work.” you heard another ripping sound, he had tore your underwear too, disregarding the pieces that remained on the bed as he ran his fingers along your inner thigh, his eyes coming back up to your face to watch your every expression.

“oops.” he muttered, snickering at you, before his face turned into one of— concern? your lips were trembling, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to blink them away. he moved up again, his hand coming up to hold your face in his palm, his thumb wiping at your wet lashes. “what is it, doll? are you scared?”

you sniffed, shaking your head grabbing his other wrist in your small hands, shakily bringing it to your lower stomach. he smiled, humming, “you want me touch you? take real good care of you?” his fingers inched closer to your clit, but still not touching, only grazing the upper part of your pussy.

you nodded, “uhh huh— p-please, fushiguro.” he chuckled again, the sound becoming familiar to your ears as you wanted to hear it more and more. “please??” he said in a teasing tone, his voice dropping a few octaves down if that was even possible.

“p-please toji—“ he laughed, the noise making your cunt flutter around nothing. “wrong answer, doll.” he slapped your clit, the action catching you off gaurd, making you let out a choked whimper. his hand still on your cheek, going down to grip your jaw as he hummed quizzically. “please, daddy.”

“mhhmm,” you felt his palm graze your clit as one of his thick middlefinger fingers entered you, your back arching and hips bucking up towards his hands as you moaned. “there you go, right there?” the pad of his finger pressed against the perfect spot inside of you, your thighs shaking around him as you nodded and moaned, his chuckles feeling your ears again.

your hips were bucking up against him in a circular motion, your walls tightening around his single finger as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to unwind, right then and there, he pulled his finger out of you, snickering as you whined. you looked down at him, his finger that was in you seconds ago now in his mouth as he hummed around it, “you taste so sweet, doll.”

he leaned down, taking his large cock in his hand, stroking the base a few times before lining it up right at your entrance, he was on his knees, looking down at you with a raised brow, “I’d ask you if you’re a virgin but,” your eyes widened as you felt his head move into you, your hands gripping the sheets and your knuckles growing white as you whimpered. “you’re a naughty little— fuck— slut. but still tight.”

your walls fluttered around him repeatedly as he tried to fit in more of his cock, stretching you open almost painfully, but god the stretch felt amazing. you felt like you could rip the sheets any moment now with the grip you had on them, you could barely keep your eyes open, nuzzling your head into your own neck and whimpering.

until you felt his fingers wrap around your throat again, looking at him as your mouth hung open, soundless breaths leaving your mouth and onto his face as he smirked, his cock was spreading you open so wide, you could feel every vein, every ridge of it brushing against your tight walls, and eventually his big balls tapping at your ass when he bottomed out.

he stilled inside of you, letting you let out your choked breaths until your hips were rutting against him, he groaned, “I’m trying to be nice here, give you time to get used to it, and you go and grind against me while I’m balls-deep inside of your tight little cunt?” your eyes rolled back as he gave you his first thrust, hard and unrelenting. making your tits jiggle up and back down again, your hands going to his wrist that is around your throat.

you hold his lower arm with one of your small hands, and the other around his wrist, pressing down on your throat until a squeak comes out your mouth, his cock twitches inside of you, and you clench around him as he gives you another hard thrust, “want me to choke you? you’re dirty like that?” his fingers tighten around your neck, and your around his arm and wrist.

his thrusts are hard, fucking into you with all the power in his hips and pulling out agonizingly slow, just to ram back in again. you moan out and let out incoherent babbles, he hums quizzically, and you lol your tongue out, his thrusts slow for a few seconds, chuckling darkly. he spits in your mouth, right on your tongue, and you can feel his thrusts speed up again as he grunts out “swallow then.”

and you do, you take all that he gives you, your cunt flutters around him again, your orgasm close as you claw at his large biceps, whimpering and moaning out, “f-faster, please daddy.” he groans, taking both his arms and balancing himself on top of you, but closer.

his hips move faster, not hard and agonizing anymore, but he listens to you. the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room and mixes with the ragged breaths coming out of his mouth, and then loud moans you’re giving out, your hands go to his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach snap, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the back of his hair.

he moans, the sound cutting short as he presses his lips to yours, it’s messy, just a wet battle of tongues as you both swallow eachother’s sounds. a string of saliva connecting you both as your pussy gushes all around him, cumming with a scream and another pull on the raven strands of his hair.

he keeps giving you sloppy thrusts, helping you ride through your orgasm, “fuck— yeah, cum on daddy’s cock baby, just like that.” his voice is shaky, the words coming out between broken breaths and grunts. he gives you one last thrust, making your whole body shudder as he fills you up, his warm cum painting your insides, as he moans repeatedly, his brows scrunched and his forhead resting in the crook of your neck as he tries to calm himself.

he lays on top of you for a while, but slowly pulls away as you start groaning, his body weight crushing you. with a chuckle, he pulls out, and it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve seen. he’s on his knees between your legs, holding the base of his own cock as he pulls out slowly, one side of his hair is in the air, messy around his head and beads of sweat decorate his chest.

you whine out at the feeling of being so empty, and he snickers, shaking his head and leaving the room before you notice. did he just leave you? you lay on the bed, and try to get up before his cum can stain megumi’s sheets. your legs are shaking as you try to make it to the bathroom, your lower stomach burning with an unfamiliar pain, you had never taken a dick this big before.

you washed up, getting out the bathroom with shaky legs, holding the wall for support. until you bumped into a chest, again. you looked up, he looked the same as when he left the room, “you really need to stop doing that doll. unless you want me to destroy your cunt.” toji says with a smirk, making your cheeks heat up.

“why did you get up?” he asks with a raise of his brows. you struggle to stand, your knee buckling as his gaze goes down to your trembling legs, chuckling as he has you in his arms in the blink of an eye, carrying you back to megumi’s room. “you can’t even walk now can you?” he says teasingly. and you huff, furrowing your brows as he sits you back on the bed.

“I went to bring you a shirt. since ya know-“ you look up at him, your eyes sparkling as he holds a black shirt in his hands, giving you a smile, “arms up.” you obey, putting both your arms up, waiting for him to put his shirt on you. he licks his lips, grinning as he gives out a chuckle, looking at you tits being stretched up with your hands, you didn’t even notice. you squeak, putting your arms back down and on your chest, trying to cover them as he chuckles again, his green eyes hooded and dark as he watches you, “hiding them from me as if— how adorable.” he shook his head.

he threw you his shirt, “go on, megs will be here soon.” you wear the shirt, the fabric big on you, the musky smell filling your senses again. you couldn’t face megumi now, not in his dad’s shirt.

toji chuckles, moving his hand through his hair as he clicks his tongue, “don’t think he can see you like this can he? or would you want that?”

your cheeks grow red, and you nibble on your bottom lip as you shake your head.

he sighs, “come down to the garage after you put your pants on. or don’t, that’s even better.” he leaves the room with a chuckle.

what did you just do?

•••••••••••••••••••

taglist? @medusa1111 (@itadaklmasu cuz your reply said part 2 heh) @emilykcoxx @calamariie (cuz you guy replied to part 1, hope you like this too <3)

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[tempest-sun]

Forever and for Always Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Crossroads

Warnings: This chapter does briefly mention abo*tion in conversation between two characters. There are also descriptions of character injuries. Minors DNI.

Words: 2,494

Summary: A lot can change in a day. Your life being no exception. You find yourself at the crossroads when you receive information that throws your life into a tailspin.

Ch. 01

It wasn’t the fact that Rex had to go on these missions that bothered you, but rather it was your reunions being delayed due to frequent ‘unforeseen complications’. You never get any further explanation beyond that. You suspect that Rex is only trying to protect you from worrying more than usual. You’d rather know the details about the danger he experiences instead of conjuring scenarios in your already anxiety fueled mind when he’s off world.

To give him credit, Rex does his best to reassure you when you do get to talk over encrypted comm channels. Although, your chats have become less frequent during these latest batch of missions.

You curse this stupid war, longing for the day he is back home safe and can stay in your arms. It’s been a week since he’s last contacted you, two weeks since he’s been gone. It’s also been two weeks since you’ve felt like your normal healthy self. Speaking of which, you currently find your head buried in the toilet bowl.

Dy holds your hair back as you heave up your supper. She rubs circles on your back. “That’s it! We’re going to the doctors.”

“I hate doctors,” you grumble. “Hospitals creep me out.”

“I don’t care,” she helps you stand. You wobble on shaky legs as you walk to the sink. “You might not have noticed but you’ve lost a kriff ton of weight. It’s not healthy.” 

“I’ve told you, I’m fine. It’s that flu going around,” you swish mouthwash around your mouth, spitting it into the sink. You reach for a cloth, washing the sheen of sweat from your face.

“Regardless, I’m taking you to the doctors.” Her reflection gives you a look in the mirror that says she’s not going to let it go. You know she wouldn’t suggest something that frightens you if she wasn’t concerned about you. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine, but I get to say I told you so when the doctor says it’s the flu.”

“And I get to say I told you so when it’s something else.” She smiles proud that she wore you down. “Hurry up and get dressed, the next bus comes in 20 minutes.”

Half an hour later, the two of you sit side by side in stiff grey chairs in the small reception area. Your leg bounces uncontrollably waiting for your name to be called. You glance around the room, skimming the various medical posters adorning the wall. You flinch at the sound of another patient coughing. 

“Y/n?” The medical droid receptionist calls your full name. You stand up. “The Doctor will see you now.” 

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Dy asks.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

She nods in understanding. “I’ll be right here okay?”

You follow the receptionist droid down a long carpeted hallway to a small examination room. “If you can take a seat,” the droid gestures to the raised bed. “The Doctor will be in shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” 

The droid shuts the door behind it. You sit on the bed, the protective paper covering the bed crinkles under you. You swing your legs, your hands clasped together as you wait. You don’t wait long when the door opens and an average sized, greying haired woman enters the room. 

“Good afternoon Y/N,” she greets with a warm smile. “I’m Doctor Minez, so what brings you in today?” 

You relax a little under the soft gaze of Doctor Minez. “Um, I’ve been having trouble keeping food down. It’s like hit or miss in what makes me throw up.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I think three-ish weeks?” You shrug. Doctor Minez types on the holopad in front of her. “I had a cold before that so I’m assuming it’s from that.”

“Any food allergies or intolerances that you’re aware of?”

“Nope, just liwi fruit but I haven’t had one since I was a kid.”

“Hmm, let me run some tests. We can see what comes up and figure out the right treatment for you. Do you consent to that?”

“What kind of tests?”

“We’ll do some blood work to start just to get a baseline and then we’ll determine if any more tests are necessary.”

“Okay, yeah lets do that.”

It is quick and painless when she draws blood from the vein on the inside of your arm. “Alright, I will be back as soon as I can with your results so hang tight okay?”

“Sure,” you purse your lips.

Again, you are alone in the examination room. Your anxiety spiking with each minute passing. What’s taking so long? Am I dying and they’re trying to find the words to tell me? Or is it–? You cut that thought short as the door clicks open. 

Doctor Minez enters the room, her expression is unreadable. “Your results are in. Would you prefer to read them on your own or for me to tell you?”

“Please tell me.” You reply. She proceeds to confirm what you’ve suspected but weren’t ready to admit. You follow her into another room because seeing is truly believing.

“Should you have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to call or come in.” Doctor Minez hands you a strip of four black and white photos. “I will have my assistant send you some information packets for you to review as well.”

“Thank you,” you say distractedly walking back down the carpeted hallway. A million thoughts race through your mind and you try to push down the growing panic attack inside you. 

“So, what did they say?” Dy closes her magazine. 

“Not here,” you shake your head. She doesn’t push you on it, noticing the look on your face. 

Back at the apartment, you sit on the couch processing the news. I’m going to be a mom. There’s a life growing in me. For 3 months. Has it really been that long since your last period? 

You don’t have regular periods so you never noticed. Also, you have been stressed more than usual. Kriff Rex’s back to back missions. Oh Maker. Rex. I have to tell him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dy sits on the other side of the couch. She looks at you with a mix of sympathy and concern.

Wordlessly, you hand the ultrasound to her. She looks confused at it for a moment before realising what the photos are. 

“Well, I told you so,” she cheekily says. Her face drops when she notices your conflicted expression. “Y/N?”

“I’m pregnant,” you say aloud, setting reality into stone. “I’m in shock.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Um, she gave me a lot of helpful information and mentioned that it is early enough in the pregnancy to decide if I want to terminate or not.”

Dy places the ultrasounds on the glass coffee table to grab your hand. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. You know that right?” 

“I know,” you give her a tiny grateful smile. “I have to tell Rex,” you drag your hand across your face. “There’s no question about that.”

“I’m sure he’ll be supportive of whatever your decision is.”

You nod, placing a hand on your abdomen looking down at it. “I think I want to keep it. Is that crazy?” You bite your bottom lip facing her. 

“Not at all! It’s exciting!” She hugs you. “I’m gonna be an aunt!”

Her energy is infectious and you giggle anxiety melting away from you. “I’m gonna be a mom,” you laugh. “Me!”

Dy pulls you up off the couch. “We’re going out to celebrate! My treat.”

The two of you end up going to the dessert restaurant that you’ve been dying to try, managing to keep your favourite dessert down. Probably, now that their presence is known, your child will allow you to eat again. You step off the lift, your laughter dying on your lips when you see a clone trooper banging on the door to your apartment.

“What the–?” Dy asks.

“Jesse?” You call walking closer to the trooper.

“Y/N, thank the Maker.” He pulls you in a crushing hug. “You need to come with me.”

Your stomach drops. “What is it?”

“It’s Rex, he— it’s bad. We need to go.”

“Do you want me to come?” Dy yells to your retreating backs.

“No, I’ll call in a bit!” Your hands shake as you follow Jesse into the lift. “How bad?” You bring yourself to ask, terrified to hear the answer.

“Our medic had to sedate him. It’s bad Y/N,” Jesse’s voice wavers under his bucket. “The clankers, they came out of nowhere. I don’t know how but they did. Rex he— he saved my life.” 

You slip your hand in his. “He’s gonna be okay. He always is.” You reassure the trooper despite your wavering voice. 

“Yeah, you’re right. He’s Rex. He’s gotta be okay.” Jesse sniffs. “He’ll be okay.”

Today is the day of anxiously waiting in waiting rooms. You muse to yourself sitting next to Jesse. Other members of the 501st who you presume were on the mission as well, fill the remaining chairs. They too are concerned about the fate of their beloved Captain. He’s in emergency surgery, according to the nurses. You were given no more information than that despite your insistence. Absent-mindedly, you draw patterns on your abdomen. It’ll be okay. 

The lead doctor who has been working on Rex for the past few hours emerges. His expression is neutral. Bile rises to your throat. You and Jesse stand. The rest of the boys were instructed to head to the barracks to make room for other patients in the waiting room. “The good news is that he is in stable condition”

Jesse squeezes your hand. You furrow your eyebrows at the doctor’s hesitation. “But?”

“I’m afraid that we had to put him in a medically induced coma to keep his vitals stable.”

“Can we see him?” Jesse asks.

“Of course, right this way.”

The doctor leads you to Rex’s hospital room. You let out an audible gasp when your eyes land on Rex.

His body is bandaged, covering up the severity of the lacerations that are sure to create more scars for his already extensive collection. His left arm is in a sling across his body setting his fractured collar bone in place. His face is swollen and littered with tiny cuts. Both of his eyes have huge black bruises around them.

He lays deathly still. The only sign that he is still alive is the vital monitor beeping in a steady rhythm. Your feet carry you to the chair beside his bed. “I’m here my love,” you kiss his knuckles, resting your cheek against the back of his clammy hand. “I’m here with Jesse. If you can hear us. Can he hear us?” You ask the Doctor.

“Most coma patients when they recover often report that they were able to hear bits and pieces of conversation.”

You gulp. “How long will he be like this?”

“Hard to say. It can range from a day to a few weeks at most. It depends on a variety of factors.” He scribbles something on a notepad. “Here are the visiting hours that unfortunately have already passed so you’re more than welcome to come back tomorrow.” 

“Thank you doc,” Jesse squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

It becomes a routine. You go home, sleep for a bit before you’re back at the hospital sitting faithfully by Rex’s bedside until visiting hours are over. You know that any day now, he’ll wake up. You talk to him about a variety of things except for the one piece of news you’re waiting to tell him when he’s fully recovered. I hope you’ll be excited about this. Our new adventure. You’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you don’t realize you’re no longer alone in the room.

“What’re you doing here?” An authoritative voice startles you. You peel your gaze away from Rex’s face to see the scowling face of General Skywalker, recognizing him as the poster boy of the Republic. 

You stand. “Uh, Captain Rex, he’s a friend?” You say pathetically. You’re unsure how much Rex has confided about your relationship. 

“Friend. Right.” He says dryly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“With all due respect, I have every right to be here.”

“Even though you’re the reason why he’s lying here?” General Skywalker's voice is laced with venom. He tosses a frayed photograph down on the bed by Rex’s feet. Your stomach drops, recognizing exactly what photograph that is.

You pick it up. Rex had insisted one night that the light from the sunset was ‘perfect’ and snapped a photo of you laying in the grass surrounded by daisies smiling up at him. “So I can have some sunshine with me,” he told you. That night was the first night you slept together solidifying the hold he has on your heart. 

“Did you hear what I said? You have to go.” General Skywalker growls. 

“I don’t have to do anything.” You say defiantly.

He steps into your personal space peering down at you. Malice shines in his eyes. “I don’t think you understand the situation here. Because of you, Rex was compromised. He was distracted by you that his efficiency on the battlefield suffered landing him here.” 

Maybe it is your fault. You glance from the General’s searing stare to Rex’s face. You can feel tears forming. 

“And even if he wasn’t injured, you’re still compromising his life.”

You turn your attention back to the Jedi. “I don’t understand?”

“If word was to get out about your ‘friendship’, Rex would be decommissioned and trust me you don’t want to know what that means.”

Your stomach drops. You’ve heard that term before but when you asked Rex about it, he shut you down. He told you never to bring it up again. His tone chilled you to your core and you knew it must be something terrible for Rex to react that way. 

“Leave now. Stay away from Rex and never contact him again if you care about him.”

“But I love him.” You mumble. 

“If you love him, you’ll do this to save his life.” His tone softens. “I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye.” He steps back out of the room. 

What General Skywalker has said makes sense. Love is about sacrifices and it’s no question that Rex’s life outweighs everything. You walk back to the hospital bed. Unclasping the necklace from your neck, you set it on the bedside table. You caress Rex’s beautiful face, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Goodbye my love. 

With your heart breaking in your chest, you leave brushing past General Skywalker. It isn’t until you’re in the air taxi heading home that you let your tears freely fall. 

Unbeknownst to you in the sterile hospital room long after you’ve gone, Rex’s eyes slowly open.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@ems-alexandra

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[radioduo]

roses and riots: chapter 1

i could count the stars (wait until the dawn

notes: apoc au ^-^ this has been in the works for a while, so hope u guys enjoy! thanks to @b1rdza for the title and the letting me plan things w them :}

tws: blood, injury, violence, talks of death and zombies

Ranboo stared at his phone, slightly cracked and looking worse for wear, reminiscing over the photo on his lock screen. A picture from two months ago of him, Tubbo, and Tommy beaming at the camera. Ranboo returned the smile. Probably a picture Wilbur took on their moving day.

Two months ago, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo began living together. Two months ago was the last time everything was normal.

Ranboo leaned against the wall of the now crumbling apartment and laid his head back against the foggy windows with a sigh. He could hear Tubbo in the other room quietly singing a cheerful tune and fiddling with some new gadget on his own. Tommy still wasn’t home from the scouting trip he had left for hours ago, and as the minutes ticked by, more and more anxiety gnawed at Ranboo's stomach.

Speak of the devil, Ranboo thought to himself as the communicator next to him began to buzz. It was Tommy, unsurprisingly. Ranboo gingerly set the phone down and picked up the other device. “Hello?”

“RANBOO, GET - krzzkr - HERE, THERE’S - skrzzkz - FUCKING HORDE HEADING OUR - krzzssz - HELP-”

Ranboo flinched and held the speaker away from his ear as he sprang to his feet. “Oh god, alright. Hold on, Tommy, I’m getting Tubbo and we’re going. Where are you?” He pulled on his boots and grabbed the musty red rucksack that hung next to the door.

“WEST- kzzszrt - NEAR THE DINER-”

“Just stay calm, Tommy, find a hiding place, you know the drill,” he knocked on Tubbo’s door urgently, but there was no response. "Are you k- whatever," Ranboo threw open the door, muttering to himself. Tubbo yelped in surprise as the door swung open, flinging his arm out and knocking his project onto the carpet. “We’ve gotta go,”

Tubbo took a deep breath and raised an eyebrow. “What’s up, bossman?”

Ranboo began to explain, but Tommy seemed eager to take matters into his own hands.

“TUBBO, THEY’RE FUCKIN’ AFTER - skrzztz - YOUR HELP RIGHT NOW, GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE - kryzztz - TO GOD I WON’T FORGIVE YOU IF I DIE,” he yelled through the radio. Tommy was breathing heavily, and Ranboo and Tubbo could hear quick, heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement.

“Oh fuck, okay, we’re coming, Tommy!” Tubbo grabbed his yellow bag from the foot of his mattress, abandoning his gadget and nearly knocking over his trash can full of failed prototypes. “Where is he?” he asked Ranboo, straining as he tugged his shoes over his heels.

“West Elm, near the diner,” Ranboo said as he pulled his mask over his face, leading Tubbo into the kitchen and grabbing his crowbar from the counter. “We’re on our way, just stay hidden and stay put.” Ranboo ended the transmission before Tommy could keep shouting at him and pulled open the door. “Let’s go, Tubbo,”

Tubbo hoisted his bat over his shoulder and tugged his goggles over his eyes. Wordlessly, the duo slunk out from the crumbling apartment building and down the street.

Nothing new, Ranboo noticed as the two speed-walked around the dilapidated city. Broken glass lined the pavement in front of shopping outlets, rotting wooden planks covered doors and windows, and the smell of flesh and blood filled the air around them, pungent and nauseating. The acrid scent slithered through the mask over Ranboo's nose and snaked into his nostrils, and he fought back the urge to heave as he swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

Rapidly rounding a corner, Ranboo tore his eyes away from the city scenery, stifling a gasp of surprise as he and Tubbo found themselves face to face with a gathering of the undead.

With bulging eyes and mouths lined with yellowed, broken teeth, the pack shuffled down the debris-covered road in the opposite direction, still oblivious to Ranboo and Tubbo's appearance. They seemed too busy tracking something out of sight to pay attention to the smell of fresh, unspilled blood nearby. Unfortunately, Ranboo realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach, the thing they must have been searching for was Tommy, and to find him, he and Tubbo would have to make it through the horde of the starving dead.

Tubbo stared ahead at the mob, a sour expression painting his face. "Don't tell me-"

"We have to, Tubbo. Unless you want to leave Tommy to die over there."

"I'm gonna be honest bossman, that sounds pretty fuckin' appealing right now," Tubbo replied dryly.

"I really hope you're joking," Ranboo answered. "C'mon," he urged, gripping the crowbar in his gloved hands, and charged forward like a bull.

The zombies, luckily for Ranboo, moved slowly, giving him time to react between attacks. He swiped nimbly with his left hand, slamming the metal bar into the face of a corpse, taking its head off with a satisfying crunch. Ranboo heard a grunt next to his ear and rolled out of the way right as an undead creature swung at him, nearly grabbing his arm and pulling him back. He brought the crowbar down into the skull of his attacker and looked away as the creature made a strangled sound in the back of its throat. Bobbing and weaving through the sea of the undead, Ranboo slammed the crowbar into every shambling body he could reach, over and over again. He yelped as he suddenly felt something grab his arm, sending a wave of pain up his arm from the iron-like grip. He wrenched his hand away frantically and stabbed the crowbar into the zombie's eyes. Breathing heavily, he scrambled away from the horde and into the clear at last. Ranboo gripped his sore arm and anxiously looked over the sea of corpses. Tubbo hadn't come out of the mob yet, and Ranboo's stomach twisted with fear at the thought of something happening to him.

A loud smack came from somewhere inside the cluster of bodies, and at last, Tubbo appeared, waving his bloodstained baseball bat like a madman and shouting a string of curses at the undead hands grabbing at his clothes. He ran to Ranboo's side, gasping for air. "Don't ever fucking make me do that again, okay?"

Ranboo grinned, relieved that he seemed unharmed. "Alright, alright, whatever," he said, flicking a drop of blood from his face. "We have to keep moving or they'll catch up with us."

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Tubbo and Ranboo slid open the diner door silently, stepping over the upturned chairs and tables as they walked into the abandoned building. "Tommy?" Tubbo whispered. "Are you in here?"

"Tubbo?" A voice answered. A head of curly blond hair popped up from behind the counter, and an unmistakable look of relief swept over Tommy's face when he caught sight of the two. "Thank fuck," he muttered, breathing a sigh of relief and dragging himself to his feet, hauling his backpack with him. "I wasn't sure how much longer I'd last." Crawling out from behind the counter, Tommy pulled his green bandana down from over his mouth again and faced the duo. "How'd you get through that giant fuckin' mob back there?"

Ranboo and Tubbo held up their crowbar and bat, respectively. "We managed," Tubbo said with a shrug. "That's beside the point though, why have you been gone so long? You were supposed to be back, like, two hours ago!" The three inched towards the door as Tubbo talked, slipping back into the streets and booking it in the opposite direction they came from.

Tommy huffed, trying to keep up with his friends. "Other than those dickheads back there keeping me away, I stopped by Phil's place for a bit to get us some food," he explained through deep breaths. "We haven't been able to get out much, thought it'd help." He held up his lumpy bag, obviously full of cans and boxes.

"Tommy, you know carrying food long distances is dangerous," Ranboo huffed, pulling ahead of the group as they rounded a corner. "Those things can smell just about everything, what made you think that was even slightly a good idea?"

Tommy made an indignant scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Well, ex-CUSE me, Boob Boy, for wanting to help out you and Tubbo. That's my bad," he said, placing unnecessary emphasis on the last two words.

Ranboo rolled his eyes with faux annoyance as the three of them kept walking. "How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?"

"Not enough clearly," Tubbo answered, amusement obvious in his tone.

"Oh my god-" A hand flew over his mouth as Tommy suddenly took a sharp turn and flattened him against the bricks of a rundown building. Ranboo bit back a pained grunt as his aching arm hit the bricks. "I can hear those fuckers nearby," he removed his palm from Ranboo's masked mouth, and the three of them pressed their backs against the crumbling wall. "Is there another way we can take?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes darting back and forth as he strained his ears to listen for the familiar groans of the undead. "There are only a few that won't take us, like, two hours," he whispered. "Most roads loop around the city, and-"

"-and there's no way in hell that we'd make it back alive if we travel in the dark," Tubbo finished bleakly. He stared at the ground, lost in thought as though he were hoping the answer would write itself on the sidewalk. "So what now? Just stay here and wait until the morning? Surely not," he looked up at the other two. "I mean, that's a death wish right there,"

Ranboo and Tommy nodded silently. "I guess there's always Phil's place, but that's a couple dozen blocks down the road," Ranboo suggested, glancing up at the sky. It was only marginally darker than when they'd left, but Ranboo knew the light wouldn't last for much longer - especially not with the luck they'd been having. He absently rubbed his sore arm, careful to keep something from hitting it again. "We'd have to leave now to be there before dark,"

"Don't tell me we have to fuckin' walk even more," Tommy griped loudly. "I just got back from his place, are you sure there isn't a faster way home?"

"We can leave you here with the horde, if that's what you prefer," Tubbo retorted. Slinging his yellow bag over one arm and hoisting his worn baseball bat over the other, he dashed down the street, calling to Tommy over his shoulder, "Hurry up, dickhead!"

"Tubbo, wait-!" Tommy shouted back as he and Ranboo followed suit, jogging down the sidewalk behind Tubbo to the safety of their friend's home.

It was nearly dark by the time the three came to the pale blue house. It sat on the city outskirts, barely safer than the houses on the inside but at least ten times cozier. Tommy rapped on the door raucously, and Ranboo and Tubbo cringed as the sound echoed, definitely alerting the nearby zombies to their presence.

They didn't have time to worry about that, thankfully, as Phil greeted them at the door, looking relieved. "You guys scared the shit out of me," he breathed as he ushered the three teens inside. "You can't just be out wandering and knocking on strangers' doors,"

"Phil, if you were a stranger, this would be very awkward right now," Ranboo said, kicking his boots off and shoving them in the corner.

"I'm- oh my god, you know what I mean," he replied exasperatedly. "Be careful out there, is all. I don't know what I'd do if you guys got hurt."

Silence fell over the group as they heard the subtext of Phil's words. 'If you guys got hurt again.' Ranboo peered over at Tubbo, whose hand had subconsciously drifted up to trace the burn scars that outlined his face. Ranboo's own hand had floated up to touch his bruised arm carefully. He wouldn't tell Phil about it. Not yet.

Coughing, Ranboo broke the silence as he drew his hand away from his injury and undid the clasp on his cloak. "Welp, uh, I'm gonna sit down if anyone else wants to come," he invited, plopping the heavy fabric in a pile with the rest of his things and wandering into the living room.

The fireplace was burning, and Wilbur laid next to the orange flames, half-lidded eyes staring sleepily at the ceiling. He blinked and sat up as Ranboo entered the room, still alone as Tubbo and Tommy followed Phil into the kitchen, discussing something Ranboo couldn't quite hear. "Hey, Rhombus," Wilbur smiled, holding back a yawn. "How goes it?" His eyes darted briefly to the yellow sweater Ranboo wore.

Ranboo shrugged, removing his mask and catching the brief smile that flickered across Wilbur's face. "Could be better, I suppose," he replied.

"I think you said that last time," Wilbur noted.

"Yeah, well, it's been hard to be great recently," Ranboo said, barely audible.

Wilbur nodded sagely nonetheless, shuffling away from the fire to sit on the carpet in front of the couch. "You're not wrong," he agreed. There was a moment of silence as Wilbur looked up at Ranboo, who sat stiffly on the sofa, clutching his arm lightly and staring blankly into the fire. "You all good?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Ranboo answered, blinking himself out of his stupor and brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. "Just- pain is all. Nothing a little sleep can't fix," he insisted. Ranboo could see the doubt in Wilbur's eyes, and it made his stomach churn. He wasn't sure why. "I'm alright, seriously," he repeated. "I'd let you know if I wasn't, you know that."

"Right." Disbelief laced Wilbur's words, but he didn't pry, nor did Ranboo want to offer an explanation.

Wilbur opened his mouth to say something else, but he didn't get the chance as Tubbo peeped his head into the room. "Dinner's ready big man, if you're interested," he said, jabbing a thumb behind him towards the kitchen, the comforting smell of potato soup wafting through the house. "You too, Wilbur, I guess," he snickered.

Ignoring the lighthearted banter between the other two, Ranboo inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. It smelt like home, he thought, a small smile painting his face. Wordlessly, Ranboo padded through the doorway into the kitchen, where Techno, Tommy, and Phil sat around the table waiting.

"There you are," Techno greeted him, reaching for the soup spoon. "We were starvin' to death in here, c'mon man," he joked.

Ranboo huffed a laugh through his nose. "Sorry about that," he apologized, running a hand through his hair. "Been a long day." He caught Tubbo's eye, who agreed with a slight head nod.

"It's alright, mate," Phil assured him. He held the bowls as Techno ladled soup into them carefully. "We get it." Phil handed him a bowl, steaming and cozy, and Ranboo gratefully accepted. "Just hang out for a while, alright?"

The six of them sat around the small kitchen table, eating together and listening to the radio as songs old and new alike filled the air. Tubbo and Wilbur sang duets, and Techno and Tommy made increasingly strange parodies as Phil and Ranboo watched with amusement.

Tommy and Techno were mid-song about Phil when the music suddenly stopped, harsh static cutting through the joyful atmosphere like a knife.

"WE INTERRUPT YOUR PROGRAM FOR AN EMERGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT," the prerecorded sample recited. "ATTENTION, ALL CITIZENS OF NEW LENSLING COUNTY: A MANDATORY EVACUATION IS BEGINNING TOMORROW AT 11 AM. ALL PERSONS LIVING IN THE CITY MUST RELOCATE BEFORE THE END OF THE WEEK."

The once bright mood at the dinner table quickly sank, dread and icy cold fear replacing the warm feeling of family and safety.

"What the fuck?" Tommy murmured, turning the radio volume up to the max.

"COUNTY OFFICIALS WILL BE INSPECTING HOMES TO ENSURE THAT EVERYONE HAS EVACUATED. SAFE CITIES ARE AS FOLLOWS: ATTSTONE, WORWICKE, LANGSTEDSHIRE, SHANTOWSEA, AND SOUTH BIRBED. FURTHER QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED AT-"

Wilbur turned off the radio with a harsh slam. "Great," he growled. "What the fuck do we do now? Surely they don't expect us to just be happy with this!"

"All our shit is still at home!" Tubbo added, agitated. "There's no way we have time to grab it tonight, and it'll take ages to get back to the apartment in the morning!" He grumbled. "This is bullshit!"

"Calm down, you two," Phil cut in, trying to curb the anger bubbling in the air. "We'll figure something out, okay?"

Tubbo and Wilbur had the same disgruntled look in their eyes, jaws set and eyes shadowed. "Fine," Tubbo muttered, standing up to look at Phil. "Tell us then, what's the plan? Do you even know what's going to happen to us?"

"Tubbo," Ranboo warned. "Calm down. We're all figuring it out as a group."

Tubbo folded his arms and sat heavily in his chair, still irritated.

Techno was already rifling through his things for a map of the county. "The safe zones were all cities nearby," he said, seemingly to himself. He rolled a thin map out over the table, careful to avoid the drops of soup. "Attstone, Worwicke, et cetera. The closest one to us would be-"

"South Birbed, innit?" Tommy finished, shoving his now-empty soup bowl out of the way to lean over the table. "It's 'bout a week-long trip on foot," he explained. "We could be there in no time if all of us leave first thing in the morning,"

"Hold on, Tommy," Techno stopped him as Tommy took a breath to say something else. "One of us needs to stay behind and let someone know where we're goin', right Phil?"

"They need to send a message to all the safe zones to tell 'em how many people to prepare for," Phil confirmed. "I'll stay behind, tell whoever may stop by that the six of us are heading south, yeah?"

Ranboo and the other four shared a look of hesitance, none of them quite sure how to respond. "I don't want to leave you behind, Phil," Ranboo admitted. "Are you 100 percent sure you'll be alright on your own?"

Phil waved a hand dismissively. "You don't have to worry about me, mate. I'll catch up with you all in no time."

Phil's promise sent a wave of relief around the room. Wilbur and Tubbo looked more at ease, and Ranboo, Techno, and Tommy all breathed a sigh. "We should probably pack up our shit, I guess." Tommy rose to his feet, stretching and yawning. "Early start tomorrow, aye?"

They all stood, some more hesitant than others, and dispersed to their respective sleeping quarters. Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo trekked upstairs single file, carrying their bags, weapons, and everything in between into the large bedroom silently. It wasn't like they hadn't done this same thing before, but something about knowing it might be the last time for a while made the mood feel more somber than usual.

Tommy flopped onto the large, pillowy mattress with a sigh. "I can't believe we're being fuckin' kicked out," he muttered crossly, a change in mood from the upbeat leader persona he'd put on downstairs (probably to prove himself to the adults). "And to South Birbed of all places!"

Ranboo snorted, his eyes crinkling up with laughter. "What did South Birbed ever do to you?" He asked, watching as Tubbo crawled onto the bed next to Tommy.

"I dunno, it just seems like a shit city," Tommy shrugged.

Tubbo smacked him with a pillow, and Tommy yelped in protest, shouting a string of curse words at his assailer. "Mercy, mercy!" Tommy begged as he and Tubbo began a pillow fight.

Ranboo looked on with mild intrigue but didn't join the party. Instead, he slipped away from the other two into the bathroom and shut the door.

He pried his gloves off his hands and rinsed his face, desperate to clean the dirt and grime from his forehead and fingers. Ranboo stared at himself in the mirror, watching beads of water run down his face. He looked like a mess, he thought briefly, before drying the water with a towel. He winced, feeling a shock of pain flow up his arm as he blotted the water with the scratchy cloth. Deftly, he rolled up his sweater sleeve to examine his arm.

A little bit of broken skin, Ranboo noticed. He caught sight of a few small indents, which he assumed were from fingernails digging into his arm when the zombie had grabbed him. He made a mental note to keep checking the wound before it got infected and rolled his sleeve down again.

With a newly clear head, he reentered the bedroom quietly. Tommy and Tubbo had already claimed the bed, he noted, as the two laid on either half of the mattress, Tommy's head and Tubbo's feet on one end and the other way around at the foot of the bed. Ranboo sighed as he realized he'd have to sleep on the floor. Swiftly, he snagged a pillow from the bed, careful not to wake the already-snoring Tubbo, and dragged a throw blanket from a basket to sleep beneath. Begrudgingly, he laid on his makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling.

He had never noticed it before, but shining overhead was a galaxy of artificial stars, blinking and twinkling. The question of "why" briefly crossed Ranboo's mind as he stared at the bright little shapes above him. It made sense, he supposed, since the room belonged to Wilbur years before he, Tommy, or Tubbo ever stayed there. Still, he thought, it was surprising that Phil had kept them up there after all this time. Maybe he wanted to keep a little piece of the good times with him.

Ranboo felt a pit form in his stomach as he thought about the future (or possible lack thereof). The uncertainty made his stomach churn as he yawned, eyelids drooping. Thoughts of traveling and an image of the artificial galaxy were fresh in his mind as he rolled over that night, shutting his eyes and letting the darkness of sleep wash over him at last.

[comfortbucky]

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”