#I was trying to explain why and I was like … I don’t even fucking know

[my-beloved-idol]

K-POP DEMON HUNTERS HEADCANONS ✦ MOANING THEIR NAMES BY ACCIDENT

includes: saja boys & huntrix.

warning: suggestive.

✦ JINU

You stretch, yawn, and his name slips out soft and sweet— "Jinuuu..." He chokes on air.

“Wha—?! H-Huh?! Me?! Did I do something??” He’s full deer-in-headlights mode. His cheeks puff out, trying to keep from grinning but it’s no use. “Wait wait wait... you said my name like... like that? Like... that that?” He’s spiraling. It replays in his brain on loop. “It didn’t mean anything, right? Unless... it did? Wait— did it??” Jinu is literally malfunctioning, and five minutes later he’s probably lying face down in a pillow just screaming internally.

✦ ABBY

You moan his name during a stretch, totally innocent. He stops what he’s doing, turns to look at you, and smirks.

“That was hot. Say it again, but slower this time.” You’re already covering your face in embarrassment, and he loves it. He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, lips near your ear: “Didn’t know I had that effect on you, sweetheart…” The teasing doesn’t stop for the next three days. Every time you yawn, he grins like the devil and goes, “Careful… don’t want to accidentally turn me on again.”

✦ ROMANCE

You let out a soft, sleepy moan of "Romaaance..." as you stretch in the morning. He freezes mid-sip of his tea.

“…Why did you say it like that?” His ears are red. His soul is red. His whole vibe glitches. He’s trying so hard not to look affected but he’s literally kicking his feet mentally. “If... if I had known hearing my name like that would sound so... nice, I’d have asked you to wake me up like that every day.” He hides behind his mug, all dreamy eyes and big smiles, pretending it’s not driving him insane inside. Later, he’ll write about it in his journal like, “I think I need them to say it again. For science.”

✦ MYSTERY

You’re stretching, arms up, half-asleep —and his name slips out in a soft, breathy moan. He freezes. Like you just cast a forbidden spell on him. His eyes flick to you, sharp and unreadable, and for a long second, he doesn’t say anything. Then, barely above a whisper:

“...Do it again.” His voice has dropped an octave. He’s teasing —but only half-teasing. His gaze is dark, intense, and he looks like he’s trying very hard not to touch you. You try to explain it was just a yawn. He just raises an eyebrow. “I want to hear you yawn more often then.”

✦ BABY SAJA

He’s on his phone, half-listening to you while you stretch and complain about being sore from training. And then you moan out his name. He chokes on air.

“Wh—?! Hey! What was that?!” You insist it was just a yawn, but he’s already red as hell, stammering and trying not to combust. “Don’t say my name like that!! I— I’m not—! I mean—!” He’s spiraling. You start laughing, which makes him even more flustered. Eventually he buries his face in a pillow and mumbles, “Fucking hell. You can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it…” (He will think about it all night.)

✦ ZOEY

You’re yawning after a nap and let out a soft, relaxed moan of her name — "Zoooeeey..." She short-circuits.

“...Excuse me???” Her cheeks flush immediately, but she's trying so hard to stay cocky. She flips her hair and grins with teeth, but you can see her flustered panic underneath. “Damn. I didn’t know I was that good just sitting here.” She’ll definitely tease you about it, but don’t be fooled —she replays that moment in her head at night and kicks her legs under the covers like a schoolgirl.

✦ MIRA

You stretch with a sleepy sigh and whisper her name without thinking — "Miraaa..." She tilts her head slowly, smiling in that quiet, dangerously sweet way.

"Was that a moan or a prayer?" She gets closer, brushing her hand lightly along your jaw, voice low: "Say it again like that and I might remember why I am called a problem child." You say it was just a yawn. She laughs— soft, melodic—and kisses your cheek. "Mhm. Sure. Stretch like that again, and we’ll see what other sounds come out." She's calm, composed, but you’ve absolutely awakened something.

✦ RUMI

You’re stretching with your arms above your head and absentmindedly let out a "Ruuuumi..." She looks up instantly, eyes wide, almost offended by how hot that sounded.

"Did you just—?! Are you trying to kill me?!" She covers her face, then dramatically fans herself like she's overheating. "You can’t just drop my name like that! I’m a fragile woman!" You start laughing but she’s already crawling over to you and pointing a finger in your face. "Say it again. Right now. Say it and look me in the eyes." She’s blushing, you’re blushing, nobody’s safe. She ends up giggling and pulling you into her lap to “punish” you with kisses.

[yumiblaze]

Cursed - Saja Boys X Fem!Reader Part 21

IBS and Depression are a hell of a bitch so sorry for not posting yesterday >^< Also I want to say thank you for all the likes and comments! I read every comment even if I don't reply and it's all so lovely <3

PROLOGUE / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6 / PART 7 / PART 8 / PART 9 / PART 10 / PART 11 / PART 12 / PART 13 / PART 14 / PART 15 / PART 16 / PART 17 / PART 18 / PART 19 / PART 20

WARNING: BLOOD AND VOMIT!

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Abby didn’t bother trying to hide who he was so as soon as you reached the hospital people’s heads turned to stare at the idol. His idea was that the Saja Boys would seem even better to the public if one of them was seen visiting Rumi in hospital, however the amount of attention he got made you feel so uncomfortable.

The boy seemed unfazed by the attention though and trotted over to the front desk, a relaxed smile adorning his face.

“Hi I was hoping I could visit Rumi.” He told the receptionist. The brunette at the desk literally did a double take as the boy spoke to her, her mouth hanging slightly ajar as she took him in.

“Yes sir, I’ll get one of the nurses to take you to her room.” She managed to stutter out after quickly clearing her throat.

“Thanks.” Abby replied gazing around the room while you both waited for a nurse to take you to your sister’s room.

You were fiddling with your fingers unable to hide how nervous you were to finally see your sister and how everything would go after last time Mira and Zoey saw you. Abby seemed to notice as he gently took one of your own hands in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A nurse quickly rounded the corner her eyes locking onto you and Abby, a soft smile gracing her features.

“Sir, ma’am, this way.” The nurse told you both leading you down a maze of white corridors.

It wasn’t long until the nurse opened a door and stood aside letting you and Abby both through. Your eyes immediately locked onto your sister, sitting up in her bed her conversation with Zoey halting as she looked over at you.

“Rumi!” You cried rushing over to her and gently throwing your arms around her shoulders.

“(y/n)! Thank goodness you’re okay!” Rumi gasped her own arms wrapping around you tightly.

“Are you okay? What happened?!” You asked pulling back from the hug and holding the girl by her shoulders.

“I’m fine. What do you mean what happened to me? What happened to you??!!” You purple haired sister replied looking you over with worried eyes.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Mira asked glaring at Abby who was just standing by the door awkwardly.

“He is my bodyguard.” You replied simply.

“No he’s a demon and he needs to leave.” Mira snapped.

“No you know what? This demon has saved my ass on multiple occasions, if he wasn’t looking after me I would be dead by now Mira. I don’t care what he is, what any of the boys are, they have been looking after me with so much love and care! So can you just not try to kill him for a few minutes so I can explain all the shit that has been going on for the last few days?!” You ranted giving the girl a stern glare.

Mira looked at you in utter shock for a few moments, glancing between you and Abby a few times before her face went back to her usual resting expression.

“Does the explanation include why Jinu and the other boys attacked me?” Rumi asked slightly hesitant.

“Yes.”

“Alright go for it.”

“First of all The Saja Boys seem to be my soul mates and until they ‘mark me’ my scent will get stronger and continue to draw other demons in. Second of all you know when I got stabbed by that demon, well turns out he poisoned me and I’m slowly dying. The bright side is there’s an antidote but Gwi Ma has this antidote right now and he won’t give it to me or the boys unless they kill you and break the Honmoon. Jinu was attempting to do that when he attacked you, he also did that behind my back so when I found out about it we had a huge issue and I left the apartment on my own and got caught by the same demon who stabbed me. Which leads me to three, the demon guy who stabbed me is going to punish the boys by hurting me every time they fail. So all these injuries I have, are his fault, not the boy’s fault. Any questions?” You dumped all the lore on them.

“So you’re telling me that these 5 demons are in love with you and Gwi Ma is using that to blackmail them into killing us?” Mira asked slowly.

“Yes.” You replied simply.

“But demons can’t love people! They’re demons right?�� Zoey asked confused.

“They can love it’s happened before.” You stated subtly glancing at Rumi.

“Surely we would’ve heard about it if it’s happened before.” Mira retorted.

“It has happened before.” Rumi told everyone with a heavy sigh. “My dad was a demon and my mother was a hunter.”

“What?!” Mira and Zoey cried in shock.

“Celine told me Gwi Ma blackmailed your dad with the exact same offer.” You added not skipping a beat.

“What?” Rumi said this time.

“I called her to ask if she knew about my injury. She said your mum was poisoned too, that Gwi Ma would only give your dad the cure if killed the other hunters and broke the Honmoon.”

“So mum died…”

“…Because your dad refused.”

The room was quiet for a few moments as if all four of you tried to absorb all of the information that had just been shared.

“I can’t do this.” Rumi admitted quietly.

“You can’t do what?” You asked confused.

The purple haired girl took your hands in her own, looking up at you with tears streaming down her face.

“I lost my mum and my dad. And I know we’re not blood related but you’re my sister. I can’t lose you!”

You didn’t know how to respond. You didn’t know what words you could even mutter to help the situation. You just stared at her hands holding yours, like she was gripping something she never wanted to let go of. You stared at how hard she sobbed, like her heart was crumbling in her chest. Yet there was nothing you could do to help her.

The crying started off a chain reaction. Zoey coming over and flinging herself onto you, tears also streaming down her face. You could feel her crying soaking through your top with how hard she was crying into your shoulder. With one glance over at Mira you could tell she was also crying but was covering her face with her hair.

“I-It’s fine Celine said she’ll try and find something, I’m sure she’ll come up with something.” You lied, your voice coming out meek and unconvincing.

You felt own tears sting your eyes, your mind coming to terms with what, or who you’d be leaving behind if you did end up dying. You didn’t want to think about it though, you didn’t want to die, but it wasn’t like there was any other choice.

Before you could say or do anything else you felt your wound once more, the injury sending a cruel wave of pain over your body. One of your hands slipped from your sister’s grasp, pressing it to your injury in an attempt to ease the sharp pain. You felt the urge to double over but tried to resist it not wanting to draw any attention to the poison that was once again eating away at you.

“Are you okay?” Mira asked first to notice something off.

“I’m fi-” Before you could finish your lie a sudden flurry of coughs hit you.

You covered your mouth with your hand, a strong iron taste filling your mouth. You didn’t dare move, you already knew the liquid that had leaked into your now shaking hand. Panic got worse when you realised your other hand on your wound could feel your shirt soaking up a warm liquid from underneath.

“Oh my god!” Zoey squealed, blood smeared across the bottom of her hoodie from your wound. “You’re bleeding!”

“Shit.” Abby hissed, pushing the dark haired girl away from you.

You didn’t realise how much Zoey was supporting your body until she was gone, your legs folding in on themselves like they were made of paper. Abby wrapped his arms around your torso gently lowering you to the floor before you could fall.

The moment your thighs hit the floor you weren’t at the hospital anymore, not that you had time to notice. Your body doubled over involuntarily, blood forcing its way out of your mouth alongside another wave of immense pain.

“Fuck!” You heard someone exclaim as you coughed and spluttered trying to get any remaining liquid out of your throat.

You wheezed slightly, tears flowing from your eyes as you wiped at your mouth with back of one of your wrists. It felt like every breath was irritating your abdomen, like it was angry at every sign of life your body clung to. Your body shook violently though you couldn’t figure out if it was from pain, tears or how much you were struggling to breathe.

The world around you was a blur all your senses consumed by your bodies panic and pain. You could see all the blood around you, all over your hands as big red blurs. Your ears filled with the sound of your own heart pumping faster than usual, voices a blur underneath the overpowering sound. You couldn’t even feel the wet liquid all over your hands over the pain than washed over and over you like unrelenting waves in a storm. The taste and smell of your own blood was overpowering, each breath you sucked in hitting you with another urge to puke that you desperately fought back against.

Then out of nowhere you felt something different. A warmth against your back, cradling you. Dry hands slipping into your own and holding you. There was a hand holding your hair out of your face, keeping blood from staining it. There were words making their way to you as your heart slowly lowered in volume. The pain seemed to slowly recede across your body, the ache keeping to your injury freeing the rest of your body over the course of a few minutes of calm.

After a few more deep breathes you finally summoned the strength to look up from the blood stained floor. Your eyes met by a familiar pair of brown framed by perfect black hair, looking at you with an unnatural amount of worry and sadness. You couldn’t keep contact and quickly flicked your vision back down to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered out your voice dry and strained.

“Why an earth are you sorry?” Jinu asked softly.

“I bled all over your floor.” You mumbled struggling to find a real reason for your apology.

“You think I – You think any of us care about the damn floor?” The man said his voice breaking.

“We don’t care about this apartment.” Romance told you running his hand through your hair.

“We don’t care about this city.” Abby continued one of his hands reassuringly rubbing your shoulder.

“We don’t care about this whole fucking world.” Baby said giving you thigh a gentle squeeze.

“We only care about you.” Mystery whispered against your back.

@ffcfffr @whimsiecat @gremlinartstudio @chugjugg @aerissblog @kitkatpattywack2808 @airwolf92 @fries11 @doggyteam2028 @downbadgirlypoo @kashasenpai @seung185 @faefanatic @izzieg3987 @lansy-4 @weponxwrites @bunniotomia @chaoticfivesworld @clmstorm @sra7riddle-malfoy @vi1326 @justanotherkpopstanlol @jaeyuuns @tikitsune @zzsloth @yumi-does-stuff @ghost-reine @yuurisfavblog @dragongirl642 @just-a-blue-nerd @snowy-violet @justanindiangirl12 @sexually-attracted-to-pans @minthoneynbasil @tatsuri-zomushiki @ellie-x0xo @olxh @satansdaughter123 @reallysparklychaos @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @lostsomewhereinthegarden @avadakadabra93 @szc56 @phoenixflying666 @l0wlifepr1ncess @reverie-sxno @fantasyhopperhea @bakusquadobsessed @adorablepandasuniverse @sad-sie

[driftd0ll]

I don't know if this has been done before but perhaps Eddie and Volt smut headcanons? If you do headcanons that is

I’ve done yandere hcs for them (which can ofc be found in my masterlist if you’re interested), but here are some non-yandere ones!

I feel like i was possessed while writing this so this may just be a jumble of a whole lotta nuthin😭🙏

Eddie and Volt NSFW hcs

warnings; nsfw/18+, threesomes, dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, semi-public sex, riding, jealous sex, voyeurism,, double penetration, switch! characters, cucking

They’re both switches, although Eddie does lean more towards being Dominant than Volt does.

As a sub, Volt is a fucking brat through and through and thoroughly enjoys being one. He’ll be given a look or even told straight-up that he’s in for it, and all you and Eddie’ll be met with is a devilish smirk and a “Why, I don’t believe I was doing anything. Maybe you’d be a dear and explain?”

As a dom, Volt is incredibly attentive but teasing. He’ll always what you and Eddie need, but he’ll only ever give you a taste of before yanking the pleasure away, dangling it over your heads unless you two ask for it. He’ll push one, single inside of you, pumping you nice and steady before stopping right as his fingers curl- He’ll act oblivious as you whine to him about it. Eddie, however, is well aware of Volt’s tactics and is already (reluctantly) resigning himself to being taken care of.

Eddie tends to flip flop on how he is as a dom. He’ll be mean as hell to Volt, edging and then overstimulating him, spanking. His big thing is leaving Volt immobile, hands behind his back and blindfolded, helpless on the bed and making Volt hear him and you moaning into each other… Granted that you’re more obedient than dear Volt is, if not? Prepare for a world of hurt. How he acts with you completely depends on how well you behave for him! If you're similar to Volt (AKA Eddie's worst but horniest nightmare), he'll get extra creative on how to punish you two.

If you're good for him, following his words obediently and just generally not acting out? Eddie will treat you so good, spoiling you - Which just turns Volt on more, he loves seeing you being treated like a princess, bonus points if you act like one as well. Eddie still likes to tease you, but in a gentler way! you know you'll get what you want in the end anyways.

Eddie gives the best, sloppiest head! If Volt ever does anything to warrant a reward, he’ll most definitely choose Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie loves spreading your folds to makeout with your pretty hole or taking Volts' cock down his warm throat. It may be considered an oral fixation.

Eddie’ll edge you if you decide to team up against him with Volt, pumping two fingers and curling them with wicked precision before stopping when you begin tensing. Volt is made to watch, his cock hard and exposed, but he’s unable to touch himself. The older male will put his forearm over your stomach while you cry out, snapping at you to no avail to stay still. The only relief you’ll get is when you finally tear up, humping as face and fighting against his arm- You’ll think you’re going to be able to cum, thighs squeezing around his head as he slurps almost aggressively. Just as you reach your peak, Eddie will pull away with a satisfied smirk and a mess all over his lower face and stubble, “What, livewire? I gave you what you wanted, don’t be ungrateful.”

All the while Volt is moving his hips, trying to get any sort of friction against his cock. He whines alongside you, just as displeased about not seeing you have a mind shattering orgasm as you are to not having one. Volt’s words are jumbled, mind hazy as Eddie grabs his long hair, bunching in his hands before slamming their lips together almost painfully- Making Volt taste you on his lips. It’s the quickest way to make Volt cry out in frustration.

Possessiveness! Volt is prone to being protective over Eddie, but don’t think you’re safe from it either. If he happens to hear Johnny trying to serenade you or Amir complimenting you in a too-familiar manner, you’ll come to learn how just how possessive Volt tends to be. Eddie’ll shake his head, but like hell is he going to stop it when Volt is biting at your skin, the back of your neck while fingering you almost harshly. His knees will keep you from closing your thighs, his long, slender fingers fucking you hard enough you think any coherent thoughts might actually be melting out of your pussy in form of slick. There’s really nothing you can say to calm Volt down until he lets the energy out, but he’ll melt against you afterwards, putting his full weight on top of you contently as if you’re going to run away.

Eddie's cock isn't as long but is girthy and his bush is trimmed at best and unruly at even better, Volt isn't as girthy but is long - He tends to be very particular about keeping his bush and happy trail maintained but keeping just enough to be seductive. Both will make you feel like they're going to break you in two.

It actually turns Eddie on a lot if he catches you and Volt at the bar, he’ll let you suck him off behind the counter, knuckles white as he grips the bar. If Volt mentions it or even complains playfully, Eddie’ll glare and murmur something about how it’s his “goddamn bar”

Eddie melts when he’s praised and Volt positively cherishes it and will tell you everything that Eddie likes being said to him, stepping back and guiding you through how to have him hissing at the two of you while simultaneously putting an arm over his flushed face. Volt’ll grab your hands and gently show you exactly where to rub and press your hands.

If you’re a dominant person, Volt will be the main submissive, but Eddie really really likes being under you as well. He thinks it’s hot when you take charge, he’d never expect to be as hard as he was when you tied his hands behind his back and made him fuck Volt, also tied up, blindfolded- Giving up complete control in a situation he usually would’ve had all of it will drive him nuts. He’s surprisingly obedient!

Volt doesn’t change. If anything, he only gets worse at the prospect of his two precious sparks glaring down at him! Eddie will sit behind up, mouthing at his neck with his thick fingers pushed between his lips, cockwarmed by Volts’ tight walls- But the real prize is you bouncing mercilessly in his lap, switching between fast, shallow bounces and slow, deep rolls of your hips while your fingers digs deep into his pale skin and leaves bright, angry marks. Volt is between heaven and hell and he’ll never want to leave (And sure, he could simply just ask for it, but where’s the fun in that?)

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Ransom Chapter 2

The "Ransom" oneshot turned into a series. Hope you like it!

Warnings: over-possessiveness, controlling behavior, eventual smut, language

Previous chapter Next chapter

Walker fell with a huff into the chair awaiting him, looking up at Bucky and Yelena with a hard glare.  “What the fuck is this?” he snarled.

Bucky sat in the chair sitting opposite of Walker and leaned back in it comfortably.  “How’s your stepsister?” he asked simply.

Walker’s eyes slightly widened.  “How should I know?” he asked.  

Bucky analyzed him for a moment.  He had a feeling that Y/N wouldn’t have a great relationship with Walker, judging by the medical reports and divorce decree they’d found online.  “I don’t know, I guess I figured that maybe you would keep up with your family,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.  “But I guess some bonds are a bit fragile after your dad beat the shit out of her mom and, let me guess, you blame her for losing your dad at such a formative age?”

Walker stiffened and frowned, his teeth grinding as he breathed heavily.  “You’re wrong,” he said quietly.  “I don’t blame her, or her mom.  My dad hurt everybody, including me, so I was glad to see him finally locked up.” 

Bucky nodded.  “Well, I’m happy to be wrong,” he said.  “So why aren’t you in contact with her now?”

Walker sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.  “She used my connections in the business to start her own thing.  We had a falling out over it.”  He shrugged as best as he could with his hands tied behind his back.  

“And she excelled far beyond what you’ve been able to,” Bucky said, trying to make a dig to get him to talk more.

Walker scoffed and nodded.  “Y/N is better at a lot of things.”  He eyed Bucky.  “And I’m guessing since you’re asking me about her, she did something better than you, and now you can’t find her.”

Bucky didn’t give anything away, resisting the urge to blink or wave away his truthful accusation.  “I know where she is,” he said lowly.  

“But not exactly,” Walker smirked.  “She’s good, Bucky.  Better than I could ever hope to be.  I don’t know what she did to piss you off.  I have no hand in it.  But it does make me a little proud to know she’s outrunning you so far.”

Bucky looked toward Yelena, who stepped forward and slapped Walker hard across the face.  Walker yelped then looked at them both angrily.  “Let me make myself abundantly clear,” Bucky said, standing and walking over to Walker before leaning down to be at eye level with him.  “This meeting is to stay between us.  If there is even a rumor, the slightest whisper about this, I will kill you.  Do you understand?”

Walker scoffed.  “You’re not going to kill me now?”

“No,” Bucky said.  “Consider it a gift for your cooperation.  That being said, if I find out you’ve been in contact with her and didn’t relay any information to me, I may just change my mind.”

Walker shook his head.  “Great, so now I’m under some surveillance.”

“You always have been, Walker,” Bucky chuckled.  “I’m always watching.”

***

It was another month before Bucky’s team figured out why they couldn’t track Y/N down in Bucharest.  “Boss!” Peter walked in one day to Bucky’s office with his tablet in hand.  “I figured it out.”  

Bucky perked up and ushered him into the office.  “Did you find her?”

“Kinda,” Peter said.  “Let me explain.”   He swiped up the screen to display the hologram in the space above Bucky’s desk.  There were multiple videos of spots around Bucharest.  “We’ve been trying to use facial recognition for her and her mother, but I noticed something in the video footage once I sat down and let it play for a long period of time.”  He pointed to one video in particular and Bucky watched it carefully.  It was a street that didn’t see too much foot traffic, with people strolling along the sidewalk and stopping at a bread stand.  After a few minutes the same family from before came back to the bread stand and bought another piece of bread…

“It’s looped,” Bucky breathed.

“Yes,” Peter said excitedly.  “She’s either using some high tech software embedded into Romania’s CCTV system or a device to loop the cameras wherever she goes, so we never actually see her.  I wouldn’t have even noticed unless I was paying attention, and the transition is so smooth I almost didn’t.”

“Clever girl,” Bucky smirked.  “So how can we bypass it?”

“I can’t access the camera feeds this far out of range,” Peter said, pulling up another video to show another looped image.  “We would either have to be in the city, or we can triangulate the loops and make an educated guess of the frequent spots she visits, which could give us an idea of where she’s staying, but that would take time.”

Bucky nodded as he looked at all the videos, watching the almost imperceptible loops in the footage.  “I guess we’ll be taking a trip to Bucharest,” he said, his smirk turning into a smile.  “I think we could all use a trip out of the country, don’t you?”

Peter smiled.  “Yes sir.”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Gather everybody.  Let’s get moving.”

***

Bucky was walking down the street of Old Town in Bucharest, enjoying the early Autumn crisp air with the warm sun shining above.  They had all arrived just three days prior, and Peter and Sam had been able to quickly override the looping technology Y/N was using and find her walking alongside her mother who was being pushed in a wheelchair down the street by a caregiver that they learned was a long time friend of the family and nurse practitioner named Wanda.  They were able to pinpoint the apartment building they were living in, as well as Y/N’s common stops and her daily routine.

Today she had left with her mother and Wanda that morning to Old Town, where Bucky could now see her sat at a cafe having brunch.  He didn’t want to make himself known yet.  He just watched on as he perused the shops.  Y/N was highly attentive and engaging with her mother and Wanda, easily laughing at something Wanda said as she wiped away some food from her mother’s mouth with a napkin.  She looked carefree and relaxed, smiling widely as she looked around.  He was calculating in his head the best way to burst that bubble, when Wanda stood and started wheeling Y/N’s mother away toward the inside of the cafe they were by.  

Bucky decided to slip in behind Wanda while Y/N was looking away.  Wanda wheeled the mother to the restrooms, and Bucky took a moment to order a small iced latte and covrigi.  When they exited the restroom he maneuvered himself to be in their path, then suddenly bumped into Wanda.  She gasped and fell, almost taking the mother down with her as the wheelchair tipped precariously, but Bucky caught it and held it steady.  “Imi pare atat de raue (I’m so sorry)!” he cried out, looking properly horrified.  “Sunteti bine, domnisoara (Are you alright, miss)?”

The mother looked shocked for a moment before meeting his gaze, then huffed a shy laugh as Wanda righted herself quickly and checked on her.  “We don’t speak Romanian, young man,” she said.  “I’m sorry but I don’t understand you.”

Bucky chuckled and smiled widely at her.  “I see,” he said.  “I just said I’m so sorry, and are you alright?”

The mother’s eyes widened and she smiled widely back at him.  “Ah, you speak English, thank God,” she said.  “Yes, I’m fine.  Thank you for helping me not topple over.”

Bucky nodded then looked at Wanda.  “I’m very sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Wanda let out a sharp breath but smiled at him.  “It’s alright, I’m fine, we’re fine.”

“Please, let me get you something,” he said, glancing at the counter.  “A coffee, a pastry, anything, as a way of apologizing.  I’m absolutely mortified, Miss…?”

“Wanda,” she answered.  “And this is Lorelai.”

“Wanda and Lorelai,” he said with a smirk, then focused on Lorelai.  “I love that name.”

Lorelai blushed and shyly smiled again.  “Oh thank you,” she said quietly.  

They let him buy them each a small pastry, and Lorelai invited him to sit with them outside.  He happily agreed and followed them to the small table outside and tried to hide his smug smirk as they walked over to join Y/N.  “Dearest, you’ll never guess it,” Lorelai said as she was wheeled over next to her.  “We met an American who speaks Romanian.”

“What?” Y/N asked, then when Wanda gestured to Bucky she turned and froze, the friendly smile on her face falling away to a look of shock and fear.

“Hello,” he said simply, smiling at her and holding out his hand.  “I’m Bucky.”  Y/N stared at his hand for a moment then reached out and shook it, her hand trembling in his grasp.  “I nearly tipped beautiful Miss Lorelai over inside,” he said, winking at Lorelai and making her blush again.  “And I accidentally laid out Wanda,” he said, grimacing at Wanda before meeting Y/N’s sharp gaze again.  “My apologies.”

Y/N’s hand squeezed his hand tightly before she quickly let go and plastered on a polite smile, though it was stiff and her eyes were tight with anxiety.  “Well, uh, no harm no fowl, right?” she sputtered.  

“I invited him to sit with us,” Lorelai said, gaining Y/N’s attention.  “He was very sorry and bought us some pastries.”

“Oh, how…nice,” Y/N said through nearly gritted teeth as she slowly leaned back in her chair.  “Please, join us,” she said, glancing at Bucky.

“Thank you,” he said, sitting in the open chair next to her.

He took pleasure in how tense and careful Y/N was as he talked to her, Wanda and Lorelai while eating his food.  He had her, and he could tell she knew it.  Lorelai was not-so-subtly trying to set Y/N up with Bucky, suggesting that he accompany her to the shops while Wanda took her home for a nap.

“Oh, Mom, that’s–” Y/N tried to object. “I’d love to,” Bucky said quickly with a charming smile.  

“Wonderful,” Lorelai said proudly.  “We’ll see you later, dearest.”  Wanda took that as a clear dismissal and stood up, saying goodbye to everybody while Y/N hugged Lorelai before speaking quietly to Wanda.  She didn’t look at or acknowledge Bucky until they were well out of sight, then she rounded on him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she whispered, her eyes wide but the rest of her face stoic.  “You said you would let me go.”

“I lied,” Bucky said with a smug grin.  

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, then her eyes fluttered closed and she let out a shaky breath through her nose.  “What do you want?” she whispered.

“You,” Bucky said easily.

Her eyes shot back open and she let her face show her shock.  “Excuse me?” she scoffed.

Bucky leaned toward her and gave her an unimpressed look.  “You seriously thought that after you tricked me and my best guys, ransomed me for money, and then gave me a mind-blowing kiss that I’d just let you ride off into the sunset?” he asked in a dead-panned tone.  Her eyes flickered over him in surprise.  “Though I gotta hand it to you,” he said, taking a deep breath and looking around the cafe.  “You gave me a run for my money.  That was pretty smart, the looping,” he said, gesturing to a camera hidden on the corner of one of the buildings.  “Took me an extra three weeks than it normally would to find you.”

Y/N stared at him, a wide range of emotions flitting across her face before her eyes started to brim with tears.  “Look, just…please don’t hurt my mom,” she said quietly.  “You can take me, but please don’t hurt her or Wanda, they have nothing to do with–”

Bucky tsked her and shook his head.  “I’m not here for that,” he said with a frown.  “I may be a monster but I’m not that big of a monster.  And besides, I like Lorelai,” he said with a soft smile.  “She’s sweet.”  Y/N looked like she physically deflated after that, her shoulders sagging and her head hanging down as she breathed.  “I understand why you came here,” he continued.  “The clinical trials for breast cancer have been promising.”

She slowly lifted her head and glared at him.  “Jesus,” she scoffed again.  “So much for HIPAA.  What kind of research did you do?”

“All of it,” Bucky said flippantly.  “Walker says hi, by the way.”

“What did you do to John?” she seethed.

“Nothing,” Bucky shrugged.  “Just asked some questions.”

She sighed again, her hands moving up to rub at her temples.  “God, I can’t handle this,” she groaned.  “I still don’t understand what you want with me.”

Bucky suddenly stood and held a hand out to her.  She stared at him incredulously before ultimately taking his hand and standing with him.  He held her hand tightly and led her from the cafe to an alley a short distance away.  He looked around for prying eyes then pulled her into a doorway of an old building and cornered her, invading her space as she gasped and flattened herself against the wall as best as she could.  He looked her over hungrily, taking in every curve and dip of her body then focusing back on her lips before nuzzling her nose gently.  “I said I want you,” he said.  “Your skills make you an asset.  I want you for your mind,” he angled his head and kissed her temple.  “And I want you for my pleasure,” he said, his lips dragging down the side of her face as his metal hand gripped her by the underside of her jaw and made her tilt her head upwards so he could kiss the side of her mouth.  

Y/N let out the smallest of whimpers.  “You don’t even know me,” she breathed.

“Don’t I?” Bucky smirked.  “Even the little things I don’t know, I want to learn.  Your favorite color, the way you take your coffee, the way you taste,” he whispered, his tongue barely tracing along her lower lip.  She shuddered.  “So here’s how it’s going to go,” he said, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye.  “Tonight I will pick you up for a date at 6:00.”

“Wha–”

“You will wear that stunning red dress you had on when we met,” he continued.

“Are you serious–”

“With that red lipstick,” he interrupted, narrowing his eyes at her.  She blinked, her words dying on her tongue.  “You should probably bring it with you,” he smirked.  “Since it won’t stay on all night.”

Y/N frowned, but a small smirk lit up her face.  “So sure of yourself,” she griped.  “What makes you think I want to go on a date with you, let alone kiss you?  What if I say no?”

Bucky felt a thrill at her resistance.  His metal hand tightened around her throat, and he watched her eyelids flutter and her eyes almost roll back as she sucked in a sharp breath.  “Do you dare say no?” he snarled, his breath fanning her face.

Y/N blinked rapidly as she met his gaze again, her jaw ticking as she swallowed against his hand.  They stared at each other for another minute until she finally nodded.  “Fine.”

“Good girl,” Bucky cooed sarcastically.  His metal hand released her throat and moved up to cup her cheek, his metal thumb caressing along her cheekbone.  Y/N looked momentarily stunned at the gentle gesture, her face softening at his change in demeanor.  He leaned in and kissed her cheek, keeping his lips against her skin for longer than normal, then suddenly pulled away from her completely and walked away.  He could hear her scoff as he walked back down the alley and smirked as he headed back to the long-term rental.  He had to get ready for his date with his future wife.

@vicmc624 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @angywritesstuff @quickreadz @the-fantasy-loving-angel @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @princesschyanne @ilovetaquitosmmmm @lostinspace33 @levisungjingwoo2099

[slushysturniolo]

not sure if you've already answered / written this,, but what was matt and nepo baby!reader's (sidenote does she have a nickname??) first impression of each other ?

hi! i mentioned in one single line that she remembers him standing next to her father, stone faced, as he explained why she needed a bodyguard so actually would looove to get into it! and yes she does! it’s V.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

V’s POV:

I sit with my arms crossed, sunglasses taking up half my face, and my feet kicked up on my dad’s desk like I’m in charge. “We can’t keep letting things like this happen,” was the last thing my dad muttered before leaving me alone with the stranger in his office.

His arms are crossed too. His posture is military-stiff. His eyes are so blue it’s almost scary.

I lift my sunglasses and push them up onto my head, squinting. “Are those your real eyes?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Like, do you have contacts in? Obviously.”

“No.” He tilts his head like he’s trying to figure me out. “Why would I wear contacts?”

“Dunno.” I sigh dramatically, like this is all a major inconvenience. “So, I know my dad hired you or whatever, but you don’t have to be up my ass about everything . We’re both adults. This doesn’t have to be weird.”

He smirks, slow and smug. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Kid.”

I groan. “Don’t call me that.”

Matt just smiles, and I already want to strangle him. He's fucking hot though.

Matt’s POV:

I stand in place, arms crossed, trying to appear unfazed.

She’s sprawled out across her dad’s office like she owns it—sunglasses too big, attitude even bigger, feet on the desk. I know this type. Hate this type. Rich. Bored. Untouchable. Has never had to want for anything but still acts like the world owes them something.

She pushes her sunglasses up and looks at me.

“Are those your real eyes?” she asks.

I blink. “What?”

“Like, do you have contacts in? Obviously.”

I squint. “No. Why would I wear contacts?”

She sighs, like I’m already exhausting. “Dunno. So I know my dad hired you or whatever, but you don’t have to be up my ass about everything. We’re both adults. This doesn’t have to be weird.”

I can’t help but smirk. It creeps in slowly. She’s a fucking handful.

“I’m not sure what you mean, kid.”

She groans. “Don’t call me that.”

I just smile. I’m going to regret this job, and I already know it. But god help me, I fucking can’t look away.

[lily-fics-11]

Vices - Chapter 3 (Natalie Scatorccio, Yellowjackets)

Post Crash Natalie Scatorccio

Master Post (includes disclaimer and in depth CW)

Chapter Navigation

CW: Rehab, alcoholism, mental illness, withdrawals, eating, AA (includes a prayer and mention of God once in that prayer. The serenity prayer is important in 12 step so I wanted to mention it. Any other time I will use the term higher power as a replacement which is used in other 12 step literature)

WC: 2.3k

Music therapy leaves you in need of a break, so in your room you get comfy in bed and do some coloring. But you leave the door open, for the air flow. Not to try and catch a glimpse of the girl across the hall.

Upon hearing footsteps you turn your attention to the door and there’s Natalie, arm up over head, leaning against the door frame. And fuck does she look hot, you unintentionally draw in a sharp breath. The way her black t-shirt, that she must have cut into an off the shoulder top herself, hangs around her body. And the way her pale skin shows through the holes of her ripped jeans, and offsets the straps of her red bra, is exquisite. Whatever creator there is above took extra time molding Natalie into perfection before your eyes.

“You coming to lunch?” She asks in that unintentionally seductive tone.

Nodding, you don’t say anything, too distracted by the way the light shines through the window onto her.

“We are leaving in 5 minutes,” Natalie informs you but doesn’t move until you’re by her side, then she makes sure you follow her.

The dining hall is nothing special, but there is some art made by patients on the wall. The line is just like any cafeteria. Following Natalie, you get your food then sit down next to her.

Eyes locked on the tray, you pick at it. Overall, you just feel so off and it’s killing your appetite, but Natalie offers an encouraging smile. Everyone else at the table looks surprised to see it.

Some girls seem to grumble about the quality of food, but Natalie appears to be a ‘food is food, be grateful for it’ kind of person. It makes you wonder what has instilled that attitude in her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie watches to see that you are making an effort to eat.

“You’ve been to places like this before?”

After finishing what’s in your mouth, you tell her “basically.”

“Basically?”

“I’ve spent my fair share of time in psych wards, but not rehab,” you explain.

Natalie raises an eyebrow. “Switzerland… by any chance?”

“The farthest I’ve been for treatment is Chicago… Why would I have been to Switzerland?”

“Just someone I know….” Natalie trails off, getting monetarily lost in thought, pain in her eyes.

“I couldn’t even tell you what language they speak there,” that breaks the ice and snaps her out of it.

Her smile is barely there, but it clutches your heart nonetheless.

The afternoon is dedicated to AA Step Study, where you are grouped with the other residents that are also on the same step.

In the conference room everyone on step 1, as well as those on step 2, are gathered around the table with a therapist.

Step 1: Admitting that we are powerless and that our lives have become unmanageable.

Step 2: Believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.

The meeting starts with the serenity prayer.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

After that comes the promises.

Promise 1: Knowing a new freedom and happiness.

That is intriguing, but promises aren’t easy to trust.

Promise 2: Not regretting the past, nor wishing to shut the door on it.

It’s clear that Natalie neither believes she will be free of regret, nor is willing to leave the door open. The look of pure disgust on her face says it all. She appears to be genuinely offended.

The group leader starts asking what the promises mean to you. For whatever reason they ask you, the newest person, to go first.

“Well… I guess freedom and happiness is what I’ve been looking for when I drink. But now I’m stuck in here… so I’m definitely not free.” That earns a few laughs.

“Maybe drinking is stopping me from those things, but… I didn’t have it anyways so what’s the difference? I don’t know if quitting will actually give me that… but I guess I’m going to try since I’m here.” Moving through these steps is the key out of this place. Maybe that’s the point. Requiring the people here to do the steps so they can leave, and hope they take something away from it.

“That’s good. What about the first step itself?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever denied being powerless. Or that my life is unmanageable. My life was that way long before I started drinking. I’ve felt powerless my whole life. It’s one of the reasons I’m so fucked up, why I take power in anyway that can. So drinking helps me feel like I have power, any harmful thing I’ve ever done to myself gives me an illusion of power… so I don’t know.” As the words come out there’s a nearly undetectable quiver in your voice. But Natalie notices.

“That’s not uncommon. But our goal is for you not to feel like you need alcohol, or any other maladaptive coping skills.”

Nodding, you watch the group leader turn their attention to Natalie.

“Natalie, what does the second promise mean to you?”

“Nothing. It’s bullshit.” Arms crossed over her chest she rolls her eyes, the therapist gives her a look, like they’ve been through this before. So Natalie starts to elaborate, knowing the consequences if she doesn’t.

“Some people have done things that they will never not regret. Some people have to keep the door closed for their own sanity. I know you’re going to ask me about the second step so I’ll tell you. There is no higher power that can restore sanity. All it can do is take your sanity away.”

The room goes totally silent. Not a breath or a tap of a pencil to be heard.

“Natalie…”

“Don’t bother.”

Unsure of whether or not the source of your discomfort was the intensity of the session or the withdrawals alone, you’re happy to get out of there. There was a step study assignment given, but that can be dealt with later. Was the room hot or is it just your body going haywire? Queesy is the only way to describe the sick feeling in your stomach, tired the feeling in your heart and soul.

The smoke break after step study is vital, it would be unsurprising if the group had been put at the time it is in order to let everyone wind down after with a cigarette or two.

In Natalie’s case it’s 4.

It’s quiet on the smoke deck. Not just the step 1 and 2 group, but everyone. Talking about this stuff is draining both physically and emotionally. Thoughts of what the later steps will bring must be wrestled away to be worried about later.

Natalie still sits with you. Not saying a word though, and you don’t dare say one to her, not after what she said earlier. She’s the person in the group that’s been there the longest, stuck on step 2.

Of course the group was hard for you too, but seeing the state Natalie is in now makes you want to save it for your nightly journaling and help her through this. You have a feeling that her emotions go far beyond anything you could even begin to understand.

But Natalie doesn’t accept help. From anyone.

Gaze lingering on her, her leg is bouncing and her pale hands are shaking. Natalie smokes 4 whole cigarettes in the allotted 10 minutes. Most people would probably fall when trying to get up after that, but with a deep sigh she does so as she normally would. A narrow eyed glance is cast over to you, forcing your eyes elsewhere.

She doesn’t go to dinner, she doesn’t come out of her room the rest of the night, except to smoke.

“Can’t believe she still sat with you,” Charlene throws out casually while you are getting ready for bed as she’s taking a quiz in one of her magazines.

“What?”

“I can’t believe Natalie still sat with you on the smoke deck. Usually when she’s in a mood she stands in the corner by herself.”

“Hm…” is the only reply she receives. Crawling under the covers you search for any distraction from the delusions Charlene is feeding.

Do you think there’s some inexplicable connection between you and Natalie? Of course.

A girl like that… so strong, so beautiful, so deep, she’s a dream come true in the most twisted way.

To her you’re surely just the person she gave a tour to in exchange for cigarettes, that lives across the hall so she feels the need to be polite.

But Natalie… She's not polite, is she?

She’s calculated and only out for herself.

She could have had more cigarettes, she could have her peace and quiet.

So why? What the hell is going on in that beautiful head?

The next morning Natalie appears to have slept off most of what she was feeling the night before.

There’s a high turnover rate when somewhere like this. Get over whatever you feel because something else is always coming.

At breakfast you decide to take a seat next to her, when she doesn’t give any dirty looks you settle in, as it seems safe to stay. She picks at her food, as do you.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“Hey,” she sighs, looking up from her food.

It’s embarrassing how long it takes you to think of what else to say.

“I um…. Wanted to say thanks?”

“For what?” The brunette grumbles, pushing her choppy side bangs out of her eyes to look into yours.

Voice soft and nervous, “being nice to me,” is all you can manage under her intense gaze.

Natalie’s reply is snappy but not mean. “I haven’t been nice to you.”

“You gave me the cigarette, you made sure I ate.”

She looks away, like she’s hiding something.“I treat you the way I treat everyone else.”

“But…” you begin, but are at a loss for words, and fear pushing away the girl that can’t be held on to.

“But what?” Natalie’s not callous or cruel, but it’s a challenge, and she expects to win.

“N-nothing,” you stutter.

“Clearly it’s somethin’.” Her displeasure brings out that New Jersey accent.

Lip stuck between your teeth you debate whether or not to be honest.

“It’s just that… Charlene said…” you finally start to admit but fall short.

Natalie’s eyes narrow. “Charlene is full of shit, you’ve seen all those gossip magazines she reads,”

“Yeah… she reads them a lot…” the words come out so quietly, so disappointed, that a hint of regret flashes through Natalie’s expression. But instead of apologizing she goes back to her food and ignores you.

The rest of the day, in an attempt to maintain the little pride you have left, Natalie is avoided at all costs. Sitting at a different spot to smoke, sitting with the other people your age at meals.

Those other twenty-something’s are welcoming for the most part, but it’s Natalie who possesses that ever present draw.

It’s not that she’s a challenge, or just that she’s attractive, it’s that she has a depth you’ve never encountered before. She thinks and feels so profoundly. She’s more like you than anyone else in this place. There is so much, an abyss, beyond substance abuse that plagues you both, in a way that would not resonate with the others. You two are the only ones that could scratch the surface of understanding the other.

Afternoon rolled around and it’s time for a first session with your therapist.

She has a comforting warmth about her. Not toxic positivity, in the annoying way some therapists do, but in a way that makes her feel like a safe person. The session mostly consists of processing being admitted and adjusting, she says that until that’s done it’s hard to make progress. She gives you homework, starting on a comprehensive timeline of what’s brought you here, saying to focus on detail as opposed to finishing quickly.

Some decompression is necessary after that session and before starting the assignment.

With everything else going on, the tail end of withdrawals, and adjusting to the schedule, you only make it from 1979 - 1982.

The last smoke break of the night was a godsend after that timeline work, until the tension with Natalie is brought back to the forefront of your mind. Leaning up against the fence, avoiding her, her eyes are on you. She’s waiting for you to accidentally make eye contact. When you finally do it surprises you both, all cheeks involved flushed bright red. She’s all the way on the other side of the smoke deck, willing you to come back to the table normally shared with her. But that doesn’t happen, a deep fear of rejection too strong to overcome without more of a push from her.

Charlene is watching a late night talk show in the day room afterwards, so you share the room with a book instead.

Until someone clears their throat in the doorway.

Arms crossed, Natalie leans against the door frame.

Not sure what to say, Natalie notices and takes the lead.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Not accusatory, no. Just a little.. disappointed?

“I…. Well…”

“You don’t need to defend yourself… I get it. I was…. Yeah. And I… shouldn’t have been. Because you were right,” Natalie admits.

“I was right?” Bewildered is an understatement, the whole day has been spent trying to bottle this all up and forget about it because it was seemingly a delusion.

Natalie nods, lips pursed, eyes on the worn wooden floors.

“So you do treat me differently?” Your tone is gentle and you bite your lip nervously.

She just nods.

“But why?”

“Don’t know.”

Now it’s your turn to nod.

“I saw you doing the timeline assignment, I have the same therapist. Make sure you take a lot of breaks, it’s a lot to do all at once.”

“Oh… thank you…”

All Natalie does is offer a nervous smile and then she practically stutters when she says “goodnight”.

Leaning forward to get a better look, you watch her go into her own room.

Book set aside on the night stand, there’s a ghost of Natalie’s face as you stare up at the ceiling.

Tags: @mel6ncholixc

Feel free to comment to be added to the taglist:)

[lullxby]

.✦ SHAMEFUL COMPANY (THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY CH. 2)

warning(s) : alcohol use mentioned!

w. c. : 2.3k

CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3

Rafe Cameron woke up with a pounding headache and wrinkled t-shirt. One of the legs of his jeans was hiked up uncomfortably to his knee, his belt only halfway on. It was a miracle he slept through the night.

It was a miracle he slept through any night he didn’t have you by his side. But he was getting better at it. He was getting used to his world being turned upside down after three years of it being that way.

Then, it flipped rightside up again, which seemed harder to adjust to.

He knew why, of course. When you were God knows where, it was easier to deal with. It was awful not having yoh with him, but he didn’t feel this weight in his chest knowing you were just out of reach. He wasn’t dealing with the fact that you were back in town but actively chose not to come see him.

Then again, you had gone three years choosing not to respond to his text, calls, or even comments. He could stand another day. He had spent so long building walks around his heart, he couldn’t let you shatter them in just a single day of being back.

Especially without him being able to see you.

He knew what you looked like now, of course. He had practically been stalking you for years. He told himself it wasn’t weird because he knew you, he wasn’t just some nobody. He was Rafe fucking Cameron.

It wasn’t his fault. You lit a fire in his head. You were a pyromaniac. He was a stalker. Two negatives made a positive, right?

So he waited. He changed, he showered, he baked. He fucking baked, because you said it clamed you down when you were anxious and he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He couldn’t think of anything besides you.

Topper and Kelce must’ve cleaned the place up while he slept. He should thank them, but he wouldn’t.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

He practically fucking ran to the front door. He felt like some desperate 13 year old again, writing ‘mrs. cameron’ with a finger to your back, everything shrouded in a darkness that felt everything but heavy.

You weren’t at the door. He thought he was being pranked. That a camera crew would jump out of the bushes that lined his massive driveway. That you’d jump out with them, and run into his arms like old times.

But you weren’t at the door. You weren’t in the bushes. Only the girl from last night, her bleach-blonde hair pulled into a tight high-ponytail on top of her head. He found it tacky. You’d never wear your hair like that, and if you did, it’d look worlds better.

“Uh— hello?” He choked over his words, or, word. Who could blame him? Dreams of you standing in front of him like he was now took control of his days and nights. He couldn’t be cold, but he couldn’t shut off his brain.

He could just try with cocaine and liquor.

“Yeah, you seemed… distant yesterday, so I brought something to cheer you up!”

Fucking muffins. As if blueberry muffins could solve everything that happened. It sounded stupid coming from anyone but you. He wasn’t distant. You were.

Maybe, just maybe, this girl would help him finally get over you. Back then, he couldn’t make excuses for you. Maybe you had spotty signal. Maybe you didn’t see his comments. But now, you had every resource you needed to come see him, and you chose not to.

He bit down on one of his already chewed off nails, something he did before he did something he knew he’d regret.

“Yeah, come in.”

His voice was nowhere near welcoming.

Still, she walked in. He didn’t need to say it, but she made herself at home. He didn’t know if he wanted her to. The muffins landed on his marble counter top, stained with small red splotched that you had a certain way to get off.

He cleared his throat after noticing her staring at the stains.

“We painted the room a while back. Looked just— awful. Painted over it immediately,” he explained bluntly, not really caring if she believed it or not.

Based off of the look he got, she didn’t.

“I saw her down town.”

“Don’t fuckin’—“ He was still reeling, his mind boggled from the past twenty four hours.

“You can’t talk about her.”

Christy got the hint, for fucking once in her life, she got the hint.

Rafe ran an exasperated hand over his sweaty face, and effect of his hangover he was dealing with. He pointed towards the massive white couch, not meaning to be as harsh as he seemed.

“You can go sit. Jus’ put on a movie or some shit, I’ll be back,” he instructed, watching as she quickly scurried over.

He strode towards the bathroom, where he splashed some water on his face to start. His fingers gripped the edge of the polished countertop so tight his knuckles turned white. He stared up at the mirror, just watching as the water droplets slowly ran down his face, mimicking the tears he desperately wanted but never allowed himself to shed.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He just wanted you back. It was like you had cut out his heart, and he finally sewed the wound back up just for you to come back and rip at the stitches all over again.

He shook his head, shaking off the water that had met his bangs. He patted his face dry from the tearful, watery mess with the hand towel, its color a sickening green that he never bothered to replace.

He plastered on a smile. God, it looked insane on him. He wasn’t the type to smile at girls. Especially not ones who invaded his house with stupid muffins that he didn’t need to try to know they didn’t taste as good as yours.

“You pick one?” He asked her as he slid onto the couch. Far enough away that they weren’t touching, close enough it wasn’t obvious he was avoiding her.

“The Notebook! It’s about this guy who waits—“

He internally groaned.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know what it’s about. Pick a different one.”

The girl thankfully didn’t argue. She just backed out of it, scrolling on Netflix and eventually ended on some corny knock-off Hallmark movie.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. She was trying her best, even if her best didn’t even compare to your worst. He needed to stop thinking about you, and this was definitely a way to do it.

Better than drugs, right?

Not better than you. Though, when he put that to the back of his mind, he didn’t hate Christy. Sure, he had a bit of hate in his heart due to what she had called you, but besides that she seemed like a sweet girl.

He only caught himself looking at the door, looking for you, a few times. Each time he’d just play it off as ‘hearing something.’ Of course, Christy ate it up, actually thinking she had a chance.

Who knows, maybe she did. Maybe he’d get over you. But maybe was never certain, and until it was, you were the only one in his heart. And off of Do Not Disturb on his phone.

NEW POST! by @/yourusername

He couldn’t stop himself from clicking from it, but he immediately regretted it. He felt his stomach sink as he scrolled through the photos. You with the Pogues, you with other guys, more importantly. The fact they were Pogues just added to it.

Suddenly all he could see was green. Not an angry red, but the same sickening green of his bathroom hand towel as waves of jealousy and hurt rolled through him, each as powerful as a tsunami.

He ran a hand through his hair before speaking, trying to jeep his temper at bay. Something he was famously awful at.

“Hey you gotta… you gotta go, man,” he grunted to the blonde who had been inching closer to him for the past hour or two.

“What’d you get in your phone? Is that why you’re kicking me out?”

That attitude made everything boil over. He bit his tongue, using all the strength he could muster to just kept his mouth shut.

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business. Get out and take your pity muffins with you.”

It may not have been nice, but it was a hell of a lot better than what he truly wanted to say.

A minute ticked by after she left. Then five. Then twenty. Then he was on his feet. There was a location linked— the Boneyard. He had always warned you not to do that, that ‘creeps and stalkers’ could easily come find you. Now he was just grateful for your stubborn pride that had made you disregard his advice.

He got in his truck, you always loved his truck. He never removed your lip gloss from the cup holder.

He drove down to the Boneyard. It was fairly desolate. The sun wasn’t out, and it was chilly. You’d be shivering, you always ran cold. It was just you and the fucking Pogues.

The ‘bad news thiefs’ that he had metaphorically lost his sister to already, and he refused to lose you to them as well. He tried to ignore how he had already technically lost you.

He didn’t care. It wasn’t over until he said it was. He felt like he was born to be alone, like he was heavy to hold in one’s heart and too cold for someone to even touch.

He wouldn’t let you fall through his fingers again. He had you here, and he’d be damned if he didn’t fight for you.

The truck’s ignition barely killed before he was out of it, slamming the door so hard the whole shitty vehicle shook. He could but a better one, but you loved how ‘understated’ it was.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

You were on Maybank’s shoulders. Why the fuck? What happened while you were gone? It was like you were a new person.

“Dude, she’s the one on top of me right now,” JJ was quick to bite back, the other Pogues jumping at the volume and surprise of Rafe’s booming voice.

Rafe stepped up to the blonde boy, who he practically nerfed. He would’ve knocked the kid’s lights out if you weren’t still on him. He couldn’t risk hurting you. Nothing would be worth that.

Even watching Maybank’s lifeless body crumple to the ground.

Rafe tried to stand his ground, but it was beyond difficult whrn you were just sitting there. So pretty, so delicate. Still smelling like the same perfume and… cheap beer?

“Are you drunk?!”

His voice was loud, but there was an undertone of gentleness to it.

“I had like, two beers. I’m tipsy at best.”

“Put her the fuck down, Pogue,” Rafe spat, and this time JJ didn’t protest.

“Rafe, calm down.”

He hated himself for it, but he did. Just the sound of your voice, even if it was angry, worked wonders on him.

“Baby, can we please just—“

“I’m not your ‘baby’,” you interrupted, and it hurt like hell.

He grabbed your wrist, his grip tighter than he may have wanted it to be, and pulled you away from the group. There was a ball, hot and heavy in his stomach. Guilt, anger, hurt. Maybe everything combined.

But he knew there was a deep rooted sadness in it. Like when a character you love dearly dies in a book. But this time, it was his favorite friendship dying.

That hurt more than he could ever imagine.

“Just please come back to my place, yeah? We can talk, like, proper shit.”

You’d say yes. Right? You had to.

“No, Rafe, just go home,” you hissed out.

Now he was mad. And confused. You left him, and you were angry?!

“Hold up, hol’ up. You left me for three fucking years without a word, and you’re the one that’s mad?”

“You have no right being here! You— I don’t know what you did, but you certainly aren’t invited.”

You were shouting at him. You never did that.

“Shit, what is this? Is this the end of us or somethin’ because you’re acting—“

“We can’t end if we didn’t even start!”

That knocked the wind out of him. Took the fight right out of him. You always were good at that. His hand went to his mouth. Surprisingly, his nails weren’t bleeding, even st this point. He debated leaving, turning around and making sure it was final.

He felt a lump form in his throat, and then he knew he had to leave. He would never let you see him cry, especially not now. Not to mention the whole fucking gaggle of Pogues was barely out of earshot, messing around by the shore.

He didn’t even reply. Just turned around as the first tear rolled down his cheek. He scoffed, shoving his large body back inside his shitty pickup.

He threw your lip gloss to the floor of the vehicle, ripped the notes from you he kept in his dashboard compartment.

Then he sped the fuck out of there, leaving you with the people you should be damn well ashamed of.

T1TGA taglist :

[starbuck]

the tags on that post are fucking relentless… “but some people HAVE been divorced!” “but the sunset tree is SO relatable” i KNOW!!!!!!!! i made that post about that hippolytine feeling, papagallo, and noche del guajolote, alright???? please listen to more songs and embrace the borderline incomprehensible

[changguscomet]

the hiring manager in the job interview I had today asked what my favourite app on my phone is and my dumb ass was like … tumblr 🧍‍♀️

[hana-bobo-finch]

the 4 30 am desire to make undertale-esque themes for all of my ocs

[clawsextended]

on a note to all: my plotting style is something i like to call i have adhd and if i see you on the dash and have an idea chances are i’ll im you about it. i’m an anxious little dude who isn’t always active in a broad scope, and it’s always been my nature to reach out to people. that doesn’t make me even remotely anxious. not even remotely expected to answer me — i totally get it, sometimes you don’t feel the vibe — but a general psa about how i work. i come from the dinosaur era where the only way to communicate with one another on any level was to directly talk to them and frankly i don’t even know how else you’re ever supposed to plot with a person otherwise. like… how do you write if you never talk????

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

health issues already fuck up every aspect of life, but if there’s one thing that i thought would be something i treated and then was done with, it was cancer. but it’s haunting me like a fucking vengeful spirit

[j-esbian]

there’s a certain type of person that gets such tunnel vision about their interests, and i don’t mean in a hyperfixation way, but in the way that like. they can’t imagine that the things they like aren’t universal and assume that if you don’t share their preferences, you spend all your time staring at a brick wall in silence

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[the-golden-dragoness]

Not crying and being guilt ridden again :))))))

[moonsaurora]

yall know anyone can do the knocking method right..like are yall forgetting queen mary where they had a 30 minute knocking conversation? or literally any time there’s a random knock in a haunted place? like just cause cody was doing it alone awhile ago doesnt mean they’re faking