#This sinking pit of sadness in my stomach

[042502]

I want it I have it // C. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: She was upset because Chris didn't want to go with you on the school trip, you use all your weapons to convince him to go.

WARNINGS: Obscenities, angry sex, and more

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :)

MASTERLIST!!

"Ah.. fuck! ma slow down!"

Chris furrowed his brows and hissed at the sight of you riding him. Your hands were using his chest for balance, panting and sweating from all the movement. You were aggressively taking his length in, you didn't even give yourself time to adjust, but it didn't matter because you were upset.

The knot inside the pit of your stomach had been forming for a while now, but because pride got the better of you, you didn't want to finish yet.

"You're gonna. Break my dick, ma... shit" He cursed, his face in pain and his toes curling. Given his current state, you gathered enough confidence and hit his cheek.

"Now I get to decide when we're finishing, okay?" You ordered, watching him widen his normally lazy eyes.

Every time you snapped your hips with his, you grunted more and more, you were reaching your limit. You hadn't even noticed the loud creaking of your bed until Chris desperately tried to hold the board. Your juices were now completely coating his dick, making it wet with and almost slippery. You lowered down to his face, still working your way up and down his dick, and welcomed him to a hungry kiss. He quickly slipped his tongue in, exploring your wet cavern while at the same time making lewd noises.

Heeventually found your exposed waist in held it tight enough to bruise your skin.

"I wonder how long you've been holding it" He whispers with an evil grin, beads of sweats streaming down his face.

"Speak for yourself" You darted back, sinking down roughly, rocking your hips forward and clenching around him.

"Oh, you're so dead" he says, throwing his head back at the warmth hugging his cock.

You allowed his free hand to grip one of your breasts as you moved back up to keep jumping on his dick. Your body was sore, and as much as you loved making Chris pay, your pleasure became a priority. Whimpers escaped your lips, finally allowing yourself to reach your climax. And then you moved off of him and between his legs.

"You can't just leave me lik- you bitch" He gasped lowly, watching you envelope your mouth around his dick, gagging on it in no time. When he would move his hands to grab your hair you would slap them away.

It wasn't long before he came undone, he was a moaning mess, shooting his hot load up your mouth, you deliberately took it in and swallowed. Just when he thinks you're done, you continue to maneuver and overstimulate him before he starts twitching.

"Ma, stop, oh my god-" You heard him beg as you licked him clean and then laid onto of him.

"That was... a lot"

"Hope you learned you lesson"

Your eyes met his, now inches away, your chin resting on his chest and your arms hugging his body. He traced his fingers so softly on your back that it almost tickled, he was so gentle with you sometimes.

"You still want that shirt?" you joked, trying the change the mood.

"Hmm, no, I think you've earned it" you had a big dorky smile plastered all over your face.

I'm falling hard for this guy.

"I'm guessing you have to go now?" you mumbled with a tone of sadness. You were used to him leaving shortly after your sessions, and of course you didn't like it"but it's not like he's supposed to stay and give you aftercare, you were fuck buddies, nothing more.

"I can stay for a bit"

"R-Really?"

He scoffed at your sparkly eyes staring right him.

"Hey... so about that trip..?" You hummed making circles on his patched skin.

"You getting cocky after I let you top me?" He chuckled and you nodded like a little puppy.

"Well, my answer's still no" you slowly got off him and sat straight.

"I knew you wouldn't change your mind, was worth a shot though"

Chris stared at you as you got up and picked up the shopping bags, dropping them on the bed.

"Instead, you'll help me pick out my outfits for the trip!" You cheered, trying to hide the fact that you were down.

"So you are going, alone?" He asked scavenging for his scattered pants and pulling out a cigarette.

"I don't know... it's our last year, and it's a free trip" You explained while taking out the items of clothing you purchased.

"Alright then, model for me, princess"

And so you did, with his attention solely focused towards you. You twirled around in your various bikinis and cover ups. He watched you with a small smile on his face, practically mesmerized by your beauty. He enjoyed seeing you happy, he really did.

You loved having him here, in your presence. He made you comfortable with yourself, something you hadn't been able to do up until this point. You wondered, how long will this last? How long until my time runs out and he's off to the next girl?

"Tie this up for me?"

"Yeah, come here baby"

Baby. It was only a handful of times you've heard those words slipped off his mouth. Maybe it was a habit of his, or perhaps he was growing fond of you, but you loved hearing it every time.

You walked to him and turned around, letting him tie up a firm knot. Goosebumps reach your skin as you feel him plant soft kisses on your back, his hands tracing over your hips.

"You like it?" You managed to say with a shaky voice as you see him play with the straps of your bottoms.

"I love it, your ass looks great" he says and you feel his hot breath. He slaps your ass for you to move forward and twirl for him.

"Shit, I'm having second thoughts about going to that trip..."

"Does that mean you'll go...?" You ask, observing him smoke from his new nicotine stick.

"Maybe" He looks the other way and you jump to hug him.

"I knew you would come through, you're the best" You squealed and kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah, now hurry up to the next outfit before I rip that off you" you blushed and continued to show him what you got. You were overflowing with joy... he was coming! He... cares.

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @dirtylittleheartsworld

[mishoru]

Don't you think I look pretty curled up on this bathroom floor?

[theemporium]

A number 15 green-eyed mojito with Nico💚

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

15. "What would I be jealous about?”

.

“You’re staring.” 

“I’m observing.”

“If looks could kill, he would be dead.”

“Tragic.” 

“Oh my god,” Jack grumbled under his breath, shooting his captain a concerned look before shaking his head. “Remind me not to piss you off.” 

Nico rolled his eyes. “You piss me off quite often, actually.”

“I—” Jack paused, his eyes narrowing as he lightly jabbed his side with his elbow. “One, that was rude. Two, you need to calm down. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend and you aren’t even her boyfriend. You’re just the jealous part.”

Nico scoffed, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

Because, as much as it pained him to admit, Jack was right. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend and he was fully aware of that. But it wasn’t like self-awareness couldn’t exactly stop the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man openly flirt with you. 

“You know,” Jack continued, something quite like amusement in his voice. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you just grew the balls to ask her out.” 

And he hated that Jack was right again. 

The crush he had been harbouring on you was obvious to everyone with a pair of working eyes. Or at least, everyone except you. Since the day you started on the team, Nico had been all lovesick smiles and longing gazes, practically throwing himself at any social media opportunity he could just so he could spend time with you. It was a little embarrassing and pathetic, all things considered. 

But the worst part was that it had been a better part of two years and Nico had made no move to confess his feelings towards you.

Which then led to moments like now, where Nico had no real reason to feel as irritated as he was over some guy from the media team flirting with you.

“Shut up,” was all he managed to mutter out.

“This is actually really sad to watch,” Jack muttered before sighing deeply. “Just know that I’m doing this because, as your friend and alternate, I’m worried about you possibly breaking your jaw before making a move.”

Nico frowned a little. “What are you—”

But before Nico could even stop whatever stupid move Jack was going to pull, he was calling out your name and waving his hands in such an exaggerated and overly dramatic manner that Nico felt his cheeks heating up. 

“I hate you,” Nico muttered under his breath as you began making your way over.

“You’re about to hate me so much more but I know you love me,” Jack whispered back before he grinned at you, the words leaving his mouth so quick that Nico almost thought he imagined it when the younger boy said, “Nico is jealous.” 

And then, the fucker was running off and leaving a gaping Nico in the dust to deal with the consequences.

You blinked in surprise before you turned to the boy. “You’re jealous?” 

“Me? Jealous? What would I be jealous about?” Nico attempted to laugh off, but it was forced and dry and it didn’t quite land the way he wanted to when he noticed your brows furrowing in concern. “Jack is just messing about, don’t listen to him.”

“Really?” You questioned, watching as Nico quickly nodded in response. “So it has nothing to do with the fact you have spent the last fifteen minutes glaring at Thomas?” 

Nico blinked, feeling the blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. “Uh—”

“For what it’s worth, I’m not interested in him,” you said.

“Oh.” He couldn’t bring himself to care how happy he sounded, how hopeful.

“I’m interested in someone else,” you continued.

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear and heavy in his voice, inklings of the previous jealousy sinking into his response.

“You might know him,” you added, trying to bite back your smile when you watched his nose scrunch up. “He’s a hockey player, has a cute accent and pretty brown eyes. Think he might even be the captain or something.” 

Blood roared in his ears and he was pretty sure his smile was going to split his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “Really?”

“Yeah, but he’s a little blind,” you teased, almost looking a little bashful despite the unwavering confidence in your voice. “I’ve been waiting for him to ask me out but he hasn’t been catching my hints.”

“He sounds a little stupid,” Nico murmured. Maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed if his heart didn’t feel like it was about to beat out of his own chest. “But I bet he’s wondering if you’re free at seven tonight.”

“Let him know it’s a date,” you said, grinning right back at him.

.

[star-girl69]

American Teenager

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you get caught in the crossfire of clarisse’s anger, and have to convince clarisse you love every part of her.

a/n: i took over a year off, cut you bitches some slack…… TELL A FRIEND TO TELL A FRIEND… SHE’S BAAAAAACKKKK!!!!!!!!!

for those who do not know, i changed my theme. yes it is me. do you like it 😀

American Teenager - Ethel Cain

warnings: NOT BETA READ!!!, ending sucks yet again but i cant be bothered, y/n gets PUNCHED!!!!!!, creepy men, violence, very sad clarisse, IT IS VERY HARD FOR HER TO TALK ABOUT HER FEELINGS BUT SHE TRIES, swearing, usual demigod stuff, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse is angry.

She has been angry all of her life, you know that. She was born with a fire in her veins that came straight from her godly father, potent and rolling around inside of her like a storm, a rabid dog biting at a cage, and nurtured over the years by a stern mother.

Clarisse was a recipe for destruction, for pain, for suffering. That’s what most people thought she was. They all thought she was her father’s daughter- full of fire, and she would never be anything else except the mean bully all the campers had grown to somewhat resent.

But she was more than that. She was your girl, she was everything you wanted and had prayed for years for. You knew she was angry, you knew she carried regret in her heart, you knew she ate up anything nice inside of her long ago.

But you didn’t care.

You gave her some of your own softness, your own nicety, drew it out of her with soft touches and sweet words, until she learned to love you and believed that she was the girl you always saw hidden inside.

Clarisse is angry.

You know that, you know the harsh girl you fell in love with, and you know the sweet girl she really is.

So, it’s no surprise to you that Clarisse has spent the entire afternoon glued to your side, glaring at anyone who walks by- but particularly her brother, Caden.

Caden has some sort of inferiority complex coupled with extreme sexism. He couldn’t stand the fact Clarisse was better than him, that she was the camp counselor instead of him. She had received her beloved spear from their father, he had no gifts to show.

Somewhere in his fucked up head he realized he couldn’t force his father to notice him, couldn’t uproot Clarisse from her counselor position, and though the next best thing was to go after you.

It started with glances that lasted too long, then subtle touches during camp activities, then actively flirting with you when Clarisse wasn’t around.

The only reason Caden had been allowed to this for this long was because you didn’t want to tell Clarisse and be responsible for what could very possibly be Caden’s death. You felt dirty, having his hands on you, barely-hidden sexual remarks whispered in your ear, his eyes on you- practically undressing you.

Clarisse would kill him if she knows what he’s done, how it makes you feel. And you really don’t want blood on your hands, so you avoid him as much as possible and attach yourself to Clarisse.

It’s a rare afternoon that you both have free, and it’s snatched with greedy hands and stretched out long like molasses, the two of you move slow and leisurely, try to sink into this time together.

You promised your sister you would help with the arts and crafts class she runs, spewing something about how you’re the best at making friendships bracelets- but really, her usual partner is on a quest and taking care of the rowdy 12 year olds is not an individual task.

So, here you are, sitting at a picnic table and making sample bracelets, feeling the sun on your face and Clarisse’s arms around you. She sits sideways, her front pressed against your side, straddling the bench. She watches the way the sun hits your face, the way your fingers move swiftly as you continue to bead and tie together.

There’s been this pit in your stomach since Caden started his advances- like a new organ had formed inside of you, pure black instead of a usual pink flesh. A physical form of all your guilt and disgust, filled with the dirt like you felt like.

It’s still there, even through the gaps of hot sunlight, the cooling shade of the tree above, but it’s easier to ignore when Clarisse is there. It’s easier to ignore, but it’s still there.

“I don’t understand how you’re so good at those,” Clarisse mumbles. She kisses your shoulder and you dig your feet into the dirt, smiling to yourself.

“I don’t either,” you smile. “What can I say? I’m the queen of friendship bracelets.”

“Ha,” she says, somewhat sarcastically, but you can hear the fond, loving smile in her voice. “How much longer?” she asks.

“Two more. Maybe 10 more minutes?”

“Okay,” she hums, drawing out the word. “Wanna get somethin’ to eat after this?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking away from the bracelets for just a second- to admire her like she gets to admire you.

“Nah, nah, you better finish those bracelets so I can have all your attention on me again.” She presses her face against yours, pushing you to face forward again and focus.

She departs with a kiss to corner of your lips, and you wonder if you really need all six example bracelets, but you know your sister would kill you if you didn’t show up tomorrow with six. You sigh and turn back to your bracelets, listening to the sweet sound of Clarisse laughing.

“Okay,” she says, leaning closer to you after a minute. “I’ll be back in a few, okay? I’m just gonna go change into shorts.”

“Okay,” you smile, and she squeezes your waist as she stands up. The feeling inside of you sinks in even more, the blackness in your stomach, but you focus on the feeling of the sun and her promise that she’ll come back soon.

“First time I’ve seen you alone in weeks.”

Your stomach sinks.

You’re a demigod and you deal with monsters and the whims of gods daily- but there’s something about humans, about demigods that makes you especially scared.

A step below a God, filled with resentment and blessed with superhuman abilities.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt fear like this.

You glance up at him, quickly gathering all your bracelet supplies, shoving it into the pockets of your jeans without much care.

You force a smile, pretend like nothing’s wrong.

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m just leaving. Nice seeing you, Caden!”

“Why you leavin’ so quick, baby?”

“Meeting Clarisse,” you smile through gritted teeth.

“Well, I just saw my sister walk away so… are you lying to me, Y/N?” he laughs slightly, almost as if the idea of you not being completely observing of his will is unheard of, laughable.

“Yeah, I was just finishing up.” You shove a pile of beads into your pocket, moving for the next one-

His hand covers yours.

“You don’t look done. Sit down, huh?”

You glance around the courtyard, not even bothering to hide your fear like you were taught- at the sight of him, his tall stature, the fact he could easily overpower you- you forget everything you ever learned and turn into a puddle of fear. You’re fucking terrified, and it would be humiliating if it wasn’t just the most basic human tendencies preserving in you.

You can’t be embarrassed about biology, about what your human body was designed to do. At the end of the day, your blood is red- not gold.

“No, no, I really gotta go.” You rip your hand away, mourning the loss of a few beads that didn’t quite escape with you. Instead of dwelling on that, you quickly turn around and head towards the main pavilion, where there are more campers- maybe you can find Matty or Carrie, another one of Clarisse’s siblings who would just get him off your back.

But, he follows. Of course he follows. He’s a man who’s never been told no, and he won’t be refused by you.

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice still teasing.

You clench your fists and walk faster, finally risking a glance over your shoulder- you slam into a familiar warm body you have spent countless nights with, now wearing a pair of jean shorts.

One hand swings around your waist, the other sits over her hip- where her favorite dagger is hidden.

“Y/N?” she asks, not taking her eyes off of Caden, but her voice is soft and full of concern.

“Nothing, Clar. It’s fine, let’s just go, yeah?”

She looks at you for just a second, and you haven’t had time to school your features back into a flat facade, so there’s still fear all over your face.

“What the fuck did you do, Caden?”

“Just tryin’ to spend time with Y/N. That a crime?”

He avoids calling you her girlfriend, even though that’s how most of the Ares cabin has come to know you.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly incredulously. “You hit your head too hard? She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend. I don’t know what you did, but don’t do it again.”

It’s like a sixth sense, the way you feel his eyes rake down your body, lingering on your ass. The blackness inside of you squeezes, and you feel the sudden urge to throw up, squeezing your eyes shut-

Clarisse tugs you behind her.

“Don’t fucking look at her, Caden.”

Her voice is level in barely-masked rage, and it honestly would scare you a little bit- if it wasn’t for the way her hand caressed your hip so softly.

“I’m not hurtin’ anyone. She probably likes it, huh?”

You wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s flirting with you, or just trying to piss Clarisse off.

Her jaw clenches.

“Four weeks laundry duty.”

His smile drops.

“Don’t fucking test me, Caden.”

You’re silently surprised at her strength, so you quickly grab her hand and squeeze, trying to urge her forward. Your stomach feels lighter, hoping that maybe- finally, finally he’ll leave you alone-

“Really, Clarisse?” The edge of desperation in his tone is pathetic. “You’re gonna choose her over your own half-brother. We both know who’d she choose between the two of us though, huh? The stronger one. The better one. She’d choose the son.”

She drops your hand and spins around.

“Clarisse,” you warn. “Clarisse.”

But she seems to be lost in her own world, where everything narrows down to him and the cocky look on his face, memory of his words, and you know any trace of your sweet girl is gone and it’s just the anger.

You quickly push yourself in between them, putting your hands out to Clarisse- you feel sort of stupid, but you’re desperate for her to just turn around, to take you with her, for the two of you to do like she said and get something to eat. You want to eat by the beach with her, you want to feel her in the sun, you wanna let yourself believe that four weeks of laundry duty will deter him.

“Y/N,” she says, warning you, and you know she won’t stop.

“Clarisse, I’m telling you, turn around. He’s not worth it.”

You can hear his smile.

“You won’t be saying that when I finally get my hands on you, baby.”

Fuck.

“Clarisse!” you shout, knowing its coming- she aims around you, pushing you out of the way as she sets a deadly punch on path with his face.

But it doesn’t hit him. It doesn’t hit him, and he gasps in shock before quickly running away, not wanting to deal with the consequences of his actions.

And you can’t blame him, because with your knees on the ground and the sting of Clarisse’s fist on your cheek- you should have just let her fucking kill him.

—-

Clarisse hasn’t looked at you in two weeks.

After you fell to the ground, completely disoriented by her punch, you remember the sound of her screaming and Caden laughing as he ran away. You remember her hands shaking as she helped you up, touching you as little as possible, staring at her now red knuckles.

Although you really didn’t have to, she led you to the healers, and one of the Apollo kids looked at your swelling eye, gave you something for the pain, and said you could leave.

And then, she made sure you got home safe to your cabin and hasn’t looked at you again.

In hindsight, knowing that that was the end of the relationship you used to have, it feels like a bad goodbye for something so good. You can’t even call it a goodbye, because it wasn’t good at all. There should have been something. Something more.

You remember the way Clarisse couldn’t stop staring at her bruised knuckles, you remember the way she couldn’t look you in your eyes, couldn’t touch you- wouldn’t allow herself to touch you.

That night, the relationship you had with Clarisse ended. But, you were still as in love with her as ever, you didn’t blame her for simply trying to protect you- you were the person who stepped in front of her. One second you weren’t there, the next you were. She didn’t have time to pull her punch, she didn’t have time to aim somewhere else- you don’t blame her.

You remember her saying she was sorry as she helped you to the healers. Sorry, over and over again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. You almost asked her to stop saying it, because the word was starting to sound weird. You almost told her it was unnecessary-because it was- but you didn’t get the chance. She made sure you got home safe to your cabin. She said she was sorry again, and then two weeks of torture commenced.

And you’re fucking sick of it. Sick of her acting like a coward, running away instead of owning up to the consequences of her actions- you aren’t mad at her for punching you. You never were.

You’re mad at her for leaving you in the days after, the nights where you couldn’t sleep on your favorite side because of the bruise. The nights where you would yawn and tears would well in your eyes, and it burned as it rolled down the sensitive skin. The nights where you would forget, and you would expect her to crawl into your bed like usual- but you would fall asleep alone and wake up alone.

You’re mad at her for abandoning you, for refusing to talk to you, to figure it out. Because while what you had before is gone, you can still have something new.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” your friend Tyla asks.

“Yeah,” Jackie, your other friend, continues. “Like, she did literally punch you in the fucking face- are we sure that’s not some sort of subconscious thing?”

She shrinks at the harsh glares you and Tyla give her.

“Okay. That was mean,” she says, softly. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking towards the training fields, where you know the entire Ares cabin is practicing hand-to-hand skills.

“I told you,” you huff. “She was trying to protect me from Caden. She loves me, she’s just angry. Angry at herself, but she shouldn’t be.”

“What even happened to Caden?” Tyla asks, noses scrunching at the fact she has to even say his name. “I mean, I saw him walking around with that broken face but-”

“Clarisse!”

You look up to the top of the small hill, the plateau where the sparring rings are marked into the grass by eco-friendly spray paint.

She’s holding one of her siblings down, her knee on his back, her hands holding his arms behind his back.

“Stop! I tap out, I tap out, Clarisse!” The boy screams. She smiles softly before letting him go and standing up.

He lays face down on the ground for a minute, breathing heavily before he finally picks himself up- staring at Clarisse’s offered hand. After a moment, he takes it and lets her tug him up. He nods at her and walks away to his friends, moaning about his arms and his back.

Clarisse shakes out her hands and looks around, but she knows no one wants to spar with her after that, even thought even from here you can see the fire in her veins. The need for a fight, for something to distract her. The need for movement, hard and fast. The need for anger to be the only thing she can feel.

“Me next?”

“Y/N,” Tyla hisses, and Jackie reaches out to grab you but you merely shake her off.

Clarisse’s eyes lock with yours.

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion in her eyes. Her body tenses up, she seems frozen in place like a deer in headlights. She’s scared.

“Clar,” you smile, meeting her in the circle.

She tears her eyes away from you, choosing instead to stare at the grass.

“I’m not fighting you. Go.”

“I’m not asking you to fight me,” you smile. “I’m asking you to spar with me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sparring with you.”

It’s so tense, no matter how much you try to make it like before, no matter how much you smile and try to look in her eyes.

“Can I talk with you, then?”

You shuffle closer, and she doesn’t move.

“Y/N,” she sighs. She looks up at you, but you can tell she’s staring right past you, towards the tree line. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” you snort. “Face your feelings? Let me help you?”

Her face is level, almost bored. She turns her face into a facade, a mask of nothingness. She won’t let you in, not now, and it makes you angry.

You would take anything from her right now.

You want her to hate you. You want her to love you. You want everything and anything.

You would take another punch, as long as you got to feel her skin on yours for a split second.

You dig your foot into the ground and glare at her.

“Clarisse. I’m serious, I want to talk to you.”

Her eyes meet yours for a split second, before she’s moving.

“Too bad. Forget me,” she says over her shoulder.

She fucks up and she runs away.

“Clarisse!” you shout, following her out of the training field, out of view from the eyes that were trying and failing not to look at the two of you. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t just pretend like the last year we’ve been together didn’t happen.”

“It’s better that way,” she sighs, like she’s doing you some big favor by staying away from you, when all she’s doing is hurting you.

“It’s not!” you shout, finally surging forward and grabbing her wrist-

She whips around and tugs her wrist out of your grip.

You don’t think she’s ever once refused your touch.

It burns. It burns in your heart so badly, burns worse than any regret you could ever feel.

“Don’t,” she says, like she’s warning you. “I’m- I’m trying to protect you, okay? Just- stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn.”

You take a dejected step back, even though all you want to do is run into her arms.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, folding her hands behind her back. Her eyes finally land on the faded bruise. “Why don’t you hate me?”

The heartbreak in her voice hurts more than the punch, than the nights without her.

“Because I love you, Clar. I don’t care about what happened, it was an accident- you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

“I hurt you.”

“The only thing that hurts is you being away from me.”

“Nah,” she says, taking a step back. She shakes her head, staring at your eye before finally turning away. “I’m only anger, Y/N. I’ll only hurt you. And I can’t take hurting you again.”

The feeling of staring at her back, the sound of her footsteps crunching in the leaves, hurts so bad it creates another new organ in your body.

This time, it’s like a tumor growing from your heart, encasing it so every beat is a struggle, every breath is ragged. This new organ carries your heartbreak, and it grows bigger by the second.

—-

It’s starting to feel like Clarisse is never going to even look at you again.

Even when you look straight at her from across the pavilion, she doesn’t look back. You stare at her back all day. The memory of her walking away from you replays in your mind every time you close your eyes.

You wonder, when it’s just you in your lonely bed, if Clarisse isn’t angry but rather scared. She’s angry at herself for hurting you, yes, but she’s terrified she’ll do it again. And you know Clarisse rarely feels fear, and you want nothing more but to help her navigate these unknown feelings- but she won’t let you in.

You don’t know how to let her help you, but you give her time. You stare at her when you hope she isn’t looking, you wrap your arms around yourself and pretend it’s her, you dream of her lips and the way she holds you, the way she loves you.

Clarisse took you to the docks for one of your dates. The fourth? The fifth? Somewhere around there, but it was the first time you kissed. Both of you had realized that you liked each other but agreed to take it slow, but you’d never forget the way she looked at you after you put the flower she brought you into your hair. The way she looked at you when you let your feet hang over the edge, kicking the water. The way your thigh pressed against hers, ankles hooked together.

You’ll never forget the way you looked up at her after dipping your fingers into the cool water, the control and self restraint finally leaving her eyes, her body, as her face sunk into a wide smile and she slammed her lips into yours.

The dock is sacred to the two of you, so when you’re missing her, especially during this sunset, this is where you go.

And it’s perfect. It’s so perfect you can almost convince yourself she’s here with you.

Except, if she was here with you, there wouldn’t be this tumor on your heart.

At the sound of his voice, the other organ your emotions have formed twists.

“This wasn’t my plan, y’know.”

“Go away, Caden,” you moan. Is it a crime to want to wallow in your own self pity? It is a crime to want the black organs inside of you to swallow you whole?

“I just wanted to knock Clarisse down a few pegs, and I certainly did that. Paid the price, too, you seen my fuckin’ face?”

It looks as horrible as it always does, you think, but you bite your tongue.

“I wanna be alone, Caden. Please.” You bite the word out like you’re a hyena choking on a laugh.

“But, c’mon.”

He steps closer to you, until you can feel him looming over you, tips of his sneakers pressing into your ass, he’s so close to you. You kick the water, annoyed, but he either doesn’t get the hint or ignores it.

“I’m not that bad, am I? Do me a favor, baby, let me cart you around for a few days and make her miserable.”

You’re about to just get up and leave all together when the sound of someone stepping onto the dock surprises you.

“Get away from her.”

But there’s something unspoken in the air. You’re just “her” now- not “my girlfriend” not “her’s.”

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering me, Clarisse?”

You turn around. She smiles sarcastically.

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering Y/N?”

“I’m not botherin’ her though, huh?”

He reaches down to grab at a piece of your hair, running it in between his fingers.

You flinch, but you’re more focused on the way Clarisse’s fists clench, her jaw ticks.

“Caden,” you sigh, batting his hand away.

“Seems like a pretty clear no to me, huh?”

Caden sighs and straightens, letting your hair fall from his fingers.

“What are you going to do about it, Clarisse? You gonna try and punch me- again? Try to hit the right person this time, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself, Caden.” She finally, finally, looks at you. You feel blessed and divine, like she’s a goddess who’s taken the time to merely look at you. “C’mon, Y/N.”

You scramble up to follow her beckoning hand at the same time Caden shifts on his feet.

He knocks into you, and you’re on the edge of the dock, and you scream as you fall in.

The water wasn’t that deep, but it was cold and embarrassing, and you fell at an awkward angle.

You surface, paddling to keep yourself afloat, coughing water out of your mouth and glaring up at him.

“Shit,” he swears, quickly running down the dock before you can shout some curse on his entire bloodline.

“Y/N?!” Clarisse shouts, panic on her face falling immediately at the sight of you afloat. She breathes out, fixing her hair that got all moved around in her frantic sprint down the dock. “You good?”

“Does it look like I’m good?” you deadpan.

She smiles.

“C’mon, come around to the ladder.”

She smiles as she helps you up, wrapping an arm around you even though you’re soaking wet, and you’re so mesmerized at the sight of her smiling, the feeling of her smiling at you that you can’t even comprehend it.

She has her arm wrapped around you.

She’s touching you.

Gods, did you miss this.

“Cold?” she asks, your hips pressed together as you walk down the dock.

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling how warm she is against you. “I’ll be okay, though.”

“How long has he been… doing that?”

Your eyes meet hers.

“Jackie and Tyla told me- yelled at me, really- after they cornered me the other day. They said you were really fucked up about everything, and I should talk to you and I- I don’t know. I thought staying away was for the best.”

You cringe at the memory from a few nights ago, when you finally broke down and cried like a baby in front of your friends because of how much you missed her.

“And I saw you at the dock, and then fuckin’ Caden got over here before I could,” she laughs, dryly. “Whatever. I’ll walk you back-”

“Will you talk to me, Clar?”

You both stop, beachy sand sticks to your wet shoes, and Clarisse nervously looks away before you prod.

“I’m not mad at you. And I know you’re mad at yourself, and scared-”

She scoffs, but it’s halfhearted.

“But I love you, Clarisse. I love you, and I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, and love me.”

In the sunlight, you can still see the remnants of the bruise. Softly, she reaches out and traces her pointer finger around your eye.

Her touch is so soft, the pad of her finger so rough- that sweet juxtaposition with her has always made your mind fuzzy. She makes all the tension in your body melt away. She makes everything better.

She swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. “I know I’ve said it so much, but I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear on my father-”

Her voice chokes up, and you can tell she hates the fact she’s crying, so you draw her into your neck and let her hide away there. Running your hands through her hair, telling her it’s okay each time she apologizes.

“I know who you are,” you say when the tears have stopped, and you’re just relishing being in each other’s arms again. “I know who I fell in love with, and I know who you are. You’re angry and you’re sweet, you’re mean and you’re kind, and I love all of it. Don’t doubt that, please.”

She breathes out before leaving the comfort of your neck, putting her shaky hands on your face.

“I love all of you,” you repeat.

She smiles softly.

“I love all of you.”

She kisses your eye softly, literally almost like a butterfly landing on your eyelid, unable to not whisper one more apology against your skin.

You roll your eyes, smiling to match her.

“And don’t think I’d leave you over one mistake, seriously, La Rue. You insult me.”

She rolls her eyes too, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Oh, forgive me,” she teases.

“You’re already forgiven,” you smile, eyes traveling down to the lips you’ve been dreaming about. “But kiss me to make sure.”

—-

“-and he would just look at me all the time. That was the creepiest part, I think. Like, okay, he would feel up on me sometimes, but whatever. I could avoid him. At meals I would just be minding my business and he would be staring at me. More just annoying, you know? And, yeah. That made me feel horrible, like literally sick. I just felt so dirty, so fucked up- Clar?”

You watch as she stares up at the ceiling, cracking her knuckles.

“Clarisse,” you scold.

You shift from your stomach to your side, head propped up so you can properly look at her. Your bed is full and warm now that she’s here.

“Oh, no, keep goin’, baby.”

“Do not kill him. Do not hurt him. I told you, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Nah, I know, sweetheart. I’m just thinking about it, don’t take that away from me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but a smile crosses its way onto your face. She smiles back, and it just feels so surreal, so different- but exactly like it’s supposed to be. You know Clarisse is angry, but you know she’s sweet too. Clarisse knows you love all of her.

She draws you to lay on her chest, hand in your hair, the other slipping under your shirt to scratch your back.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me,” she whispers. “That’s the worst thing. You were dealing with all this alone- and I had no fucking idea.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause being with you made it better, of course you didn’t notice.”

She kisses your forehead. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

You smile and kiss her chest.

“I’m only not killing him ‘cause you asked, I hope you know that. If it was up to me, he’d be dead.”

“Oh, baby, I know lots of other ways we can channel that emotion.”

You glance up at her and she searches your eyes before promptly throwing you to the side and climbing on top of you.

Yeah, Clarisse is angry. But you love her angry.

—-

clarisse staring at her hands like they’re covered in blood: oh gods… oh gods what have i done. what have i done (again that picture of ivan the terrible holding his d3ad son)

y/n: ouch! ok anyways- girl you did not kill me calm down.

—-

caden trying not to die after clarisse inconveniences him for the sixth time today… hides his favorite sword, permanently sticks him on laundry duty, puts literal “kick me” signs on his back, puts holes in his favorite clothes…

—-

y/n is that one song that goes “FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZZYYYYY”

…and she’s so real for that.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1 @maxlynn17

@thewritingbarbie

—-

from this ask

[sexlapis]

my baby, my baby…

୨ৎ toji x reader

gender neutral!reader, reader is having a difficult time ;(, talks of depression, anxiety, nausea & headaches, soft!toji

wc: 1.4k

a/n: been feeling down & blue lately… craving the comfort of big man 💭🧸

masterlists

*

relief floods you as you walk into your cosy house, abruptly dropping your bag on the floor carelessly and throwing off your uncomfortable shoes. a tired and weak sigh leaves your mouth as you plod in the living room.

there is a weight of a long day that rests heavy on your shoulders, the tendons of your muscles wound up tight, as is the nauseous pit in your lower stomach.

the superficial, constant chatter with your colleagues and clients, having to skip lunch due to how busy it was, the never ending feeling of isolation and loneliness even around so many other people, the confining feeling of businesswear, the everyday stress, how everyone relied on your contributions that you believe to be insignificant and trivial, the now growing headache at the back of your head…

you are exhausted.

sadly for you, your anxious nature likes to make itself known all throughout your whole entire body, most commonly burying itself in your stomach and intestine, morphing into faux sickness and nausea that no amount of pressure point massages or medicine could solve.

you are exhausted.

this behaviour of yours has been going on for the past two months and toji, your sweet and observant husband, has obviously taken notice.

he notices your dark circles and eyebags, your more drowsy and slow demeanour, the irritableness, the skin-picking to the point of blood drawn and the hair pulling. to say toji is worried would be an understatement.

he is being more gentle with you, you can tell. it’s like he’s walking on…eggshells around you, not wanting to say the wrong thing in case you blow up or have a meltdown.

you’re not a fan of such treatment even though you are aware that if he acted in any other way, you probably would have snapped by now.

toji asks if you are okay, if you need anything, if you want anything.

and you. you say no and proceed with your picture perfect daily routine of meditation, journaling, exercise, consuming a healthy breakfast, diligently working your job and going to sleep at a normal time.

yet none of these are able to quell the hollow in the depth of your organs, the same hollow that runs through your veins, your arteries and right to your very core.

you fall onto the couch and lay your body across it, sinking into the softness and resting your head down on a pillow.

now, after this shitty day, you just want to cuddle with your big, protective husband who you love dearly.

your phone vibrates against your leg and you snatch quickly despite your enervation, wishing the notification to be a message from toji. toji will make this all better.

unfortunately, nothing about your day seems to be going to plan.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you read over toji’s message.

toji🐻🩷

gonna be back really late dont stay awake for me

a frustrated snarl escapes from your lips and you’re flinging your phone across the room in a fit of fury, that is quickly replaced with sadness.

your shoulders shake and you cover your mouth to hold in your loud sobs, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and cheek, soaking the pillow you lay on.

even in the sanctuary of your home, loneliness does not elude you at all.

the pounding in your head eased slightly, just enough for you to find repose as the past weeks finally catch up with you and you fall into a deep sleep.

*

toji enters the house around ten thirty at night. he cracks his neck, removes his shoes and places his rucksack on a nearby chair. his foot catches on something and he stumbles before regaining his balance, hissing in annoyance and looking back sharply to glare at whatever tripped him up.

your work shoes.

he looks around on the floor and sees your bag on the floor nearby.

that’s odd of you. you do not usually leave a mess on the floor, especially in the doorway.

toji huffs. “‘the hell…”

he hangs up his jacket on the coat rack and walks in the living room, where he then finds you, asleep on the couch.

it makes toji sigh. he told you not to wait for him. so why did you so clearly do just that?

*

you feel yourself being shaken back and forth by the shoulder and toji quietly calling out your name.

“_____…_____, wake up…”

you groan, blinking your eyes open. the dryness of your throat, the cracked skin of your lips and the drool smeared on your cheek is enough to tell you that you’ve been asleep for quite some time.

toji is back. it must be ten at night by now, and you arrived home at five.

you had been asleep for five hours.

toji sits on the couch next to where you thighs are, the seat dipping with his weight and places a hand on your waist, “_____, i told you to go to bed and not wait up, didn’t i?”

you sit up and lick your dry lips, trying to find your words. you look down and fiddle with your fingers, picking at your skin, “no, i…i didn’t..i didn’t,” you interrupt yourself with a long yawn, “i didn’t wait for you..jus’ fell asleep.”

“fell asleep, huh? in your work clothes and on the couch? _____, you never do that.”

a hum from you is the response he gets and silence falls thereafter.

toji takes this moment to scan you over.

the deep lines of fatigue under your eyes, the frown on your lips, the dullness in your once vibrant complexion, the newfound slowness of your movements, the lost look in your eyes..

you were not looking too good.

“hey,” he says softly, ducking his head a little to get a look at your downtilted face, “you okay? what’s wrong? please just tell me.”

the concern and tenderness in his voice flood your eyes with tears, and you whimper, “everything…everything is just fucking shit.”

a hiccuped sob leaves you as you start to really cry again, all of your pent up emotions coming to surface and you let it all out.

and toji is cooing at you, shocked at your sudden weeping but swiftly wrapping his arms around you and scooping you into his lap, “oh, baby…”

you bawl into his work uniform as he cradles you in his lap, nuzzling his face into the top of your head while rocking himself back and forth, calming you down with sweet “sh, sh, shh ‘s” and “i know, i know ‘s”.

the tension in your body lessens with each tear that rolls down your face, the release of emotions overwhelms yet relaxes you all at once.

toji strokes your head and back, calming your erratic, hefty breaths and your quick heartbeat until your weeps gradually turn into sniffles and your whimpers turn into sad hums.

it’s quiet for a while as you settle with toji’s help.

toji is still caressing your soft hair when he speaks again, “‘that feel better?”

“…mhm.”

“okay.”

a beat of silence falls over the two of you, the only sound being the crisp crackle of the fireplace and your heavy breathing.

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment at your emotional breakdown.

this was all your fault, anyway. if you had spoken to somebody about your feelings and had been honest with toji from the beginning, then this would not have happened. but that’s just the special thing about you. bottling up all of your emotions, letting the water and waves rise until the dam cracks and bursts open, destroying everything in its path including yourself.

“sorry…i’m sorry,” you garble tearfully, “i should’ve..should’ve said something sooner…”

“don’t be dumb, ‘s fine.”

toji fushiguro, the comforter you are.

toji isn’t the most gentle or sensitive man, but he’s him. he’s toji, broken and scarred and soft toji and that’s all that matters to you.

you nuzzle into his broad neck, inhaling the now soothing scent of smoke, cigarettes and rubber.

the safety, reassurance and protection you feel while in his arms was immense and nothing compared to it. knowing toji will always have your back and will always be there for and never judge makes you feel a little worse for not telling him about your issues. toji understands.

“y’know we’re gonna have to talk about this, right? no more keeping this shit to yourself.” toji asks.

“yeah,” you sigh, already dreading the looming but necessary conversation, “yes, i know.”

“but we can do it another day. ‘think someone needs some medicine and some food. and good nights sleep in a bed,” he squints his eyes as he looks down at you, making you cower. you’re definitely not saying no to that, “how does some takeout sound?”

warmth rushes through your chest as you stare at his love-filled eyes and how the orange light flickers across his face, which holds a tender expression. you feel better already.

“yeah, that sounds good toji.”

a/n: i luv toji <33

[prettybabybaby]

Dark!Ethan x reader with Ethan having his way with drunk reader in a dark alley with his ghost face costume on. He’s had a crush on her for a long time but she rejected him. She’s also apart of the Woodsboro group.

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: noncon, dark!ethan, fem!reader, public sex

¡ scream masterlist !

you were lost, ending up on an unfamiliar street as you searched for ethan. you were drunk and nauseous, vision muddled from the alcohol and exasperation as you swiveled your head from side to side too quickly. you groaned, feeling tears fill your waterline.

you felt terrible, regretting the drunken words as soon as they left your mouth. you were used to playing into his little crush enough to keep him close, unable to bare losing his friendship. but after all this time, he had finally confessed and the atmosphere on top of being intoxicated had you revealing your true feelings, a little harsher than you would without the drunken confidence. he had rushed off, an unfamiliar look gracing his features that had guilt falling into the pit of your stomach. you followed after him seconds later when your legs caught up to your compromised brains demands.

your mission was to find the ghostface, ethans last minute costume change but ghostface was everywhere. the masked killer was the most popular costume of the year and the streets were crawling with replicas. you dropped your head into your hands, sighing as your palm caught your dwindling tears.

you picked up your head as they stopped, determination overtaking the sadness as you glanced around again.

your gaze skipped past a shadow in the alley, mind barely registering the slight wave. you looked again, using your full attention follow the movement of the masked killer but his hand didn't raise itself again. you furrowed your brows, confident steps propelling you towards him as he stood perfectly still.

"e! there you are," you stood before the shadowy figure. "i was looking everywhere for you," you slur. "look... im sorry about what i said... i didn't," you sighed and lifted a hand to rest it on the stranger's arm, swallowing, "i just don't feel the same way."

moments of stillness followed, breathing from the man even but labored. he was tall, broad and intimidating. you stared into the empty eyes of the mask, slow thoughts of discomfort making your brows cinch again and your muscles tense as you kept your hand in its place. they alley suddenly felt darker.

"you're not ethan," you whispered, taking your warm hand off the cooled cloth-covered bicep. "sorry," you murmured.

he caught your wrist, slow steps pushing you towards the bricked wall. it was cold against your bare back, briefly clearing your mind and letting a dull panic sink in. "i need to find my friend," you said, pushing against the body that only seemed to get closer.

you could feel his heartbeat that thumped almost as harshly as yours. you shifted your shoulders as his touch ghosted up the sides, a slim finger trailed up the side of your neck until it reached your face. his gloved hand slit around your chin, strong grip squeezing your cheeks together. you stared at the menacing mask with wide eyes as a knee forced itself between your thighs and the empty hand on your side slithered to the apex of them. you jolted and turned your head, a strained protest forcing itself out.

the cloth pushed at the lace of your skimpy underwear, tugging it down until the strain stretched the fabric enough to dig painfully into the flesh of your thighs. you felt dizzy, tears working their way to the corners of your eyes again. your arms pushed but it has no effect, your nails tried to puncture the costume but you were no match. the rough feel of the gloves added to the sensation on your sensitive mound, making slick leak from your hole.

"stop," you mumbled, "i need to find, ethan."

you couldn't hold back the moans at his ministrations that grew rougher and quicker as your knees tried to close around his. your eyes were shut tight, hips rolling against his palm. you stiffened when a warm, hard, probing replaced his moistened glove.

you were shoved back forcefully as he slammed into you, his hips pushing against yours as if he wanted to be deeper. you hissed, sliding your hand up to his shoulder, "no, wait."

he didn't, harsh, desperate thrusts colliding with your throbbing cunt. you whined, tears slipping as you shoved his shoulder. the mask stared blankly at you, erratic grunts and groans distorted by the barrier.

your panties snapped when he lifted your knee to adjust his angle. your legs felt like jelly and you couldn't help but lean against him, "need to find..."

"are you looking for me? huh?" you whimpered as he sped up. "you're looking for me to break my heart again? no, i won't let you."

you were stunned, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to squirm away. "e, w-what are you doing?" you slur, tightening around his persistent movements. how could ethan do this?

"you'd let some random guy fuck you in the middle of an alley after you broke my heart? you'd whore yourself out like this?"

even you weren't drunk enough to think this encounter was anywhere near consensual. you whimper, "no, no, i didn't. was looking for you..."

"yeah, for what? to make me feel better?" he pulled the mask off, his hard, eyes boring into yours. the head of his cock hit a spot that had your eyes rolling, a shiver running up your spine and your walls clenching, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me."

[rainylana]

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds out that you self harm.

warnings: reader self harms and is severely depressed, undertones of poor eating habits but very brief, language, lots of tears, blood, angst to the max, mentions of periods.

a/n: this is the longest that i’ve posted yet since getting back into writing and i’m super happy with how it turned out! it is a sensitive topic so it won’t be for everyone. this is dedicated to all the ones who can relate to this fic. i hope you all have an eddie in times when it gets too much. please let me know what you think. it means the world and more than you can imagine.

You knew that what you did was not healthy. You knew it was sick and messed up. You knew that if anyone found out, they’d think that you were insane. The scars you gave yourself had no real reason to be there. You blamed yourself for that. You didn’t know how to deal with your issues any other way. The moment you were alone you’d drift off to the bathroom, turn the shower on and begin your twisted ritual of self abrasions.

Life for you was difficult, but still, marking your self up was no excuse. You had tried to quiet, of course. Many times you had, but it was a habit you could not break. You were too used to doing it. It was an everyday thing. It was like breathing. You breath to live. You can’t not just breath. So for you, cutting yourself was like breathing. You didn’t think you could stop. It helped you deal with your pain.

If you’d have known what the evening was going to hold for you, you would have slit your throat the moment you woke up.

Darkness clouded your mind. Sitting in class, the fog you knew well was storming your brain cells, making everything else fuzzy and hard to understand. Everyone looked blurry, their faces funny and distorted. They sounded odd. Your heart ached and sunk into the pit of your stomach like it always did. You had no way of explaining what this feeling was and what it meant, but you didn’t like it at all. Once it got you, it had you.

You didn’t try to share any of this with Eddie. You didn’t want him to know how much you struggled. Scaring him away was your worst fear. It was why you never let him see the tops of your thighs. Sex was always under the covers. Lights off. Eddie didn’t complain of course. To him, sex was sex.

And god, did you love him. You loved him with your whole heart and soul. You’d be devastated if he knew your secret. It felt awful to bare, this huge burden you carried on your shoulders. You wondered if any of your other classmates shared it too. There was a darkness in your heart that was eating you alive.

“Babe,” A warm, thick hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you from sinking to the bottom of the pool you were drowning in.

“Huh?” You said a little louder than you’d realized, blinking rapidly as your vision spun around the room. “What?”

You turned around in your seat to find Eddie’s doe eyes narrowed. “You good?” He whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve been staring at the floor for fifteen minutes.” Your class wasn’t even doing anything important. You had a sub, so everyone was doing their own studying or reading. Eddie had been talking to you until you drifted off.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with a swallow, grabbing his hand that still laid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Ed.”

“Just checking on my girl.” He gave you a wink that made you blush. “You coming over tonight?”

“Yeah.” You whispered with a fake smile, exhaustion taking over. He could see the way your lips had faltered. You turned back around and laid your head on your desk, arms being your pillow.

Eddie stared at you.

He might not have been the brightest bulb in the shed, but he knew you weren’t the happiest girl in the world. He knew you were sad and weren’t telling him about it. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to pressure you into it, but still, he was worried about you. He wished for one night that they both could talk about you instead of his problems for a change.

Maybe tonight could be the night.

•

You must’ve gotten your period, he figured. Here it was four o’clock in the morning, and for some reason he couldn’t sleep. He had gotten up to get a glass of water but stopped when he’d seen blood seeping through the tops of your sweatpants, the blankets kicked down below your feet.

“Babe,” He said groggily, giving your shoulder a light shake. “Y/n, wake up.”

You hummed back asleep.

“Y/n, I think you got your period,” He rubbed his eyes, leaning over you to switch on the light. “You’re bleeding.”

That woke you up. “Huh?” Your eyes went wide and you sat up. “Oh,” You gasped upon seeing the red leaks of blood seeping from your sweatpants. An inhumane shock of terror left your throat and you leapt from the bed to disappear into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Eddie, thinking it was your period, thought it was a little funny, even if he was exhausted. He got up and followed you to the door. “Baby, hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll get some new sheets from the closet, alright? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You didn’t respond. He waited for a moment to see if you would. He even knocked a few times before giving up and switching out the sheets on the bed. In fact, he did a lot before you actually came out. He changed the bed entirely, knocking again until you muttered a shaky response that you’d be out soon. He bit his thumb nail and paced for another five minutes before he went out for a smoke. He remained seated on the bed when you finally came out.

When he saw you, he knew something was deeply wrong. Your face was white and you were visibly shaken. Your face was stained with dried tears, your eyes bloodshot. Your heart felt like it was broken. This was too close. Nobody had ever gotten this close of finding out. The idea of him knowing made you feel sick. It was your burden and yours alone. It was yours. As sick as it was, it was who you were. Who were you if you didn’t do this? You were so used to it. It was routine for you. Half of the time you did it just to….well, just to do it, to feel something. You were addicted.

“Y/n,” Eddie glanced you over. “what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He stepped toward you, grabbing your elbows lightly. “Hey,”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to bed.” You dismissed, now wearing a pair of dark leggings.

“Wait— babe, you’re crying,” He followed you to the bed, watching as you fixed the blanket over yourself. “Are you sick?”

“No, Eddie, I’m fine.” You adjusted your pillow, your body shutting down into survival mode. You needed the situation to be dismissed, shut down. “I’m sorry about the blood, was just my period.”

He sat down on the bed by your thighs. “Don’t be sorry bout’ that, honey. Just want to make sure you’re alright. You need anything? You want some water or something?”

“Eddie, I’m okay.” You stressed, laying down and turning your back to him. “Just forget about it, please.” Your voice broke.

He absolutely did not want to forget about it, not with the way you were trying not to cry. He sat there in the same spot for almost three minutes, eyes glued to your cheek. “Y/n,” He said again. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You groaned into the pillow. “Damnit, Eddie, lay down!”

“See, I know you,” He shook his head. “You would never be this bothered over your period. Hell, last month you chased me around with your tampon!” He said bewildered, chuckling slightly. “Something else is wrong and you’re not telling me, and when something makes my girl cry, I want to know what it is, so tell me what’s got you so worked up, huh?”

You let out a sob and curled into yourself. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. God, you were so stupid. You shouldn’t have cut so deep.

“Baby,” Eddie frowned, leaning down to lay his torso on you, his chin laying on your shoulder so he could look at you. “Did I hurt your feelings today? Did I say something?”

“No.” You cried into your pillow. “No, Eddie, it’s not you. I promise, it isn’t you.”

He thought maybe he should just drop it, let you go to sleep and maybe it would be okay in the morning, but you were still crying, little puffs and pouts here and there. He couldn’t just dismiss that.

“It’s me.” You found yourself saying, out of the blue.

“What?” He missed what you had said. “I can’t hear you, honey.” He strained his ears to hear you.

“It’s fucking me!” You sobbed into your pillow, chest heaving with a heavy breath that made him jolt. “I’m the fucking problem!”

He had no idea why you were so upset. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped harshly. “Y/n,” He cooed, shushing you gently. He scooted closer, holding you tighter to place a kiss on your temple. “I’m here, baby. Shh, shh, I’m here.”

You let go, sobbing in his arms and into your wet pillow, you broke down in sobs. Most of it was just because you were purely exhausted and you were emotionally drained, depressed. This week you were in a deeper funk than what you’ve normally been in. You hadn’t been eating properly to start. Your showers consisted of laying on the floor and imaging yourself drowning. The idea of Eddie knowing your secret made you want to die, yet you spoke anyway.

“I’m so sad.” You whimpered while Eddie rocked you in his arms, his hands stroking your hair.

He’d thought maybe you’d fallen asleep. You’d been quiet for several minutes. “Why, baby?” He kissed your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” You thought, a crinkle in your nose as you tried to reason why you felt the way you did. “Something is wrong with me, Eddie.”

You were starting to scare him. He’d never heard you talk like this before. He swallowed hard, batting his eyes across the room like his answers were a poster on the wall. “Y/n, if you tell me maybe I can help you.”

God, was help possible? Could you stop? Did you even want to? Who were you if you didn’t have that one constant in your life?

The idea brought on a wave of fresh tears, your lips turning down in a blubbering frown. “You’ll think I’m disgusting.” Your back shook against his broad, bare chest. “You won’t— you won’t ever look at me the same. You’ll think…fuck, you’ll think I’m disgusting.” You sobbed broken-hearted.

Eddie started at your face, features masked in concern. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better, and his mind was flashing the worst things that could’ve made you so upset, his imagination getting the best of him.

“Sweetheart, I promise whatever you think I’m going to say or do isn’t true.” He leaned over to wipe a tear. “I’m going to love you no matter what you say. That’s how this works, remember? Please, baby, tell me. You’re worrying me.”

Guilt made your heart pound. You let out a long mewl, curling up like a cat so you could cry. Eddie still didn’t let you go. This was your nightmare, yet you, yourself, were making it come true.

“I didn’t get my period.” You said with wet lashes.

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes down at you.

You let out a sob, holding a hand to your stomach. “I mean, I- fuck, I didn’t get my..my- period!” You hyperventilated through your breath.

“Shh, calm down, sweetheart, you don’t have to rush,” He soothed you, rubbing your arms. “Come on, sit up with me.” He gently lifted you by the torso, your hair cascading down your back. You looked like a scared little girl. Your eyes were wet and your face was soaked like you’d been laying in the rain. Eddie sighed, his mouth in a frown as he tried to help you.

“Breath, honey,” He fixed your hair, smoothing it down in rough places.

“I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, grabbing his hands tightly, squeezing them.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, angel. Just want you to tell me what’s got you so upset. What is it that you want to tell me?” He knew whatever it was, you wanted to tell him. And deep down, you did. Maybe that was why you couldn’t shut the hell up.

“I’m so scared.” You shuttered a breath. “I’m so scared that you’ll…what you’ll think of me.”

His heart was beating loud in his chest. “You said that you didn’t get your period,” He tried to question you gently. “What does that mean?”

Did you really want to do this? Did you want to just let it all go within a blink of an eye? Truthfully, yeah. Yeah, you did. You couldn’t do it anymore. At least not alone.

You sat up slightly, fingertips grabbing the waistband of your sweats as you tugged them down to your knees. You didn’t look at him as you sank back down to sit on your ankles.

“I cut too deep.” You wept, staring down at your thighs. It was your canvas, your target area. They were scared on every inch. Some white and faded with age, some angry and red.

When Eddie saw them, it connected all dots instantly. His eyes widened in horror at your legs. They looked absolutely terrifying. He couldn’t help let out a gasp. “Oh, god, y/n,”

His large palms ghosted over them, and he leaned down so he could examine them closer. “Jesus,” His own eyes blurred with tears, his bottom lip quivering with emotion.

“I know,” You shook your head shamefully. “I know, Eddie, but I can’t help it.” You lifted your head up as you shuttered out a tearful breath. “I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. It’s the only thing that helps me.”

“God, y/n,” He traced your scars with his fingertips, jaw fallen slack in shock.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You bawled. “I’m so…I don’t know, I’m just- just- so miserable and it’s the only thing that seems to help. I’m just so used to doing it and I don’t think I can stop!” You blubbered, snot dripping onto your cupid’s bow and dipping into your lip.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Oh, baby, come here.” He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. You crawled to him immediately. He cradled your back as you threw your legs around his waist, your chests flush together in a bear hug. You sobbed into his shoulder, his kisses peppering your neck. “I’m here, I’m here.” He repeated.

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Your body wracked with moans and groans of heartbreak, but you couldn’t deny the amount of relief that left your soul. It finally wasn’t alone on your shoulders. “God, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Eddie hushed you. “You have nothing, nothing at all to be sorry about. I should be apologizing. I should have realized. I had no idea you were unhappy.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Your voice muffled against his skin. “I don’t even know why I’m sad I just- I just am! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Stop saying that.” He held the back of your head with his palm. “How you feel is perfectly understandable. I’m glad you told me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Baby, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone, but I’m right here now, okay? I’m gonna help you through this. I’m gonna help you rise above this because you’re so strong and you don’t even realize it. But you’re my girl and I know.” He rocked you in his arms, cradled you like a baby as you cried. “I know, baby, I’m here, I’ve got you honey.”

“Please, help me.” You fisted his curls, your chest hollow, yet heavy with emotion. “I need help.”

He nodded, whispering soothing words of encouragement as he fought off a wave of tears. “You can get past this. I did.”

You pulled away, your face an absolute mess. Red, snotty and tearful. Your lips pulled down in the deepest of frowns. “Oh, Eddie,”

He turned his elbow in a 90 degree angle, and angle you’ve never exactly examined, and cried when you saw the faded white scars. You went right back to his chest, holding him like a teddy bear. “Oh, Eddie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

He held you close and kissed your shoulder, allowing one singular tear to spill that you didn’t have to see. He stopped when he met you. You were his saving grace. He’d be sure and do the same for you. His angel baby.

[qinluofu]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤrhodochrosite 🫧 shidou ryusei x gn!reader

in which shidou tries his best to comfort you from your toxic ex rin + asshole rin is very real in this au so beware

sfw work + 400++ wc

"it's me or them"

You couldn’t even look at Rin, trying to hold your tears. You could feel his gaze upon you, as you waited for an answer.

Rin sighs, “don’t make this difficult for me”

“I just want to know”, in your heart you already knew a definitive answer, you just wanted to hear him say it, say it so you can know he doesn’t love you, so you can move on

“I’d choose them”

And that’s all you needed to hear to never look back at him ever again.

You know that feeling when something heavy falls onto your stomach and you start crying uncontrollably? Yeah something like that

During the first day, you lay in bed all day with no appetite for any food and especially the pastries from the coffee shop just down the street (he always bought you the egg tarts). You kept checking for your messages, never blocking Rin just to see what he had to say, staring at the chat histories.

During the second day, everything sinks down to you and you realize you have lost the only person that cared about you. Were you really not enough? You tried to find fault in everything, everyone, but at the end there was still no one by your side.

During the third day, you felt rage inside you. You wanted to ruin his football career, you wanted to ruin his new partner, you almost could feel the motivation to get out of bed and properly confront him, to get the closure you deserved.

because rin isn’t the type of person to just cheat out of nowhere. because rin isn’t the type of person to be able to fake his love for someone for 5 years because you can’t accept the fact that he doesn't want you anymore

shidou knocks on your door. he knows your home, he knows you broke up with rin, he knows your sad.

despite his external layer of brassiness he knows well that its time to invade your personal space and rescue you from the pits of your bed before you suffocate of emotional damage.

shidou has to juggle between beating rin up or giving you a hug, beating rin up can satisfy his personal needs but might intensify your sadness so the latter seems more promising.

you slowly opened the door after knowing it was him after seeing the cameras and he nervously holds out his hands to embrace you, unsure if you would accept his hug.

surprisingly you didn't push him away. his hug felt warm, warmer and more sincere than any hug rin itoshi could ever give you. shidou slowly closed the door and coo's at your crying.

"everything's gonna be fine from now on."

a/n: there's gonna be a part2, i think.. this has been sitting in my drafts for a considerable time so i hope this was fine to read

[lilywastaken]

What do you think Simon would do if reader started dating someone or if reader flirted with someone in front of him?

Honestly, I don't really think reader would be able to fully enter a relationship during the first years of Tommy's life, she'd probably be worried that her partner would take up time she would need to take care of Tommy, and there'd probably be some underlying feelings for Simon that would fully prevent her from starting something, but I don't think she'd fully close herself off, she'd maybe start talking to someone but never commit herself to them

There'd be no way you'd tell Simon about it, you couldn't bear the thought of seeing him upset (you don't even know if he would be upset, but if he was, you'd be torn), so you stayed quiet about your little flirting with some guy you'd met, texting him in secret and only when Simon wasn't around, not wanting to risk it.

It isn't until you're sitting at the park getting some sun, Tommy in your lap while Simon stands a few feet away (the requirement you forced onto him whenever he decided to smoke, he couldn't be anywhere near Tommy during it), that the guy you'd been talking to comes up to you with a bright smile and flushed cheeks.

You're a bit taken away at first, going along with the conversation and letting the guy meet Tommy, hoping to God that Simon believes it's just some old friend who hasn't seen you in a while and not your sort of boyfriend, but with one glance at him, you could see the almost crushed cigarette in his fingers and the clenched jaw beneath his mask.

He doesn't say anything the whole way back, taking Tommy to bed and turning on some random TV show to eat dinner to, not moving an inch when you sit next to him with your own plate.

"it's not serious..." You mumble, watching him take a swig of his beer.

"Okay." He grunts, in a tone that gives off indifference, as if he truly did not care for your love life.

You feel upset, rejected maybe, a feeling you can't understand because the guy is nice, he didn't care that you were a mother, he was always sweet to you, but he was just... Not it.

He doesn't even seem surprised when you tell him you'd like to stop whatever you've got going on, telling you it's for the best and that he hopes you and your ex-husband work it out.

That, gets you stumped.

Ex-husband?

Did he mean Simon? Did he really think you and Simon had been married? You think to yourself as you sit in bed on night, a book abandoned open in your lap as you bite nervously on your nails, not even acknowledging Simon as he walks in and dumps one of the pillows from the sofa onto the empty side of the bed (his side ), collapsing onto the mattress and leaning front side down, head buried into the cushion.

"I broke it off with him." You announce out of the blue, cheeks growing warm as he turns to look at you.

"...okay." Once again, indifference, making your heart sink into your stomach at the thought that you'd broken up with a guy as sweet as sugar for nothing, turning off the light and curling into the covers trying to ignore the pit of sadness forming in your tummy, squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep to forget about this whole ordeal.

Luckily, you're not tired enough to immediately fall asleep, if you had been, you wouldn't have felt the mattress move beneath Simon's weight, you wouldn't have felt his warm hands grasp at your waist, you wouldn't have felt him press you into his chest, his warm breath hitting your nape as he pressed a short sweet kiss to your nape, as if confirming to you that he did care, your cheeks growing warm as you feel his stubble scratch at your skin, realising he'd taken off his mask just to kiss your neck.

"Thank you." He murmurs, caging you with his arms as you snuggle further back into him.

"...yeah." You breathe out, resting your head against his bicep.

> This blurb is part of my series — MÉNAGE !

[imaginedisish]

Sparks (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLLOOOO everyone!!! Here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This is my first fic in a few months so please forgive me. I am exhausted, and I’ve been writing this throughout my day (may or may not have been writing and editing in class). Thus, this may be incredibly sloppy. I am so sorry. HOWEVER, this is incredibly SMUTTY so minors SCRAM! I hope you guys enjoy. The song I reference is “Sparks” by Coldplay and it very much inspired this....but so did Cardigan by Taylor Swift. Anyway...enough of me talking...ENJOY!

Summary: Din looking out for you turns into so much more than either of you could have ever imagined (featuring *there’s only one bed*). 

Warnings: Major pining, Jedi!reader, SMUT so 18+, cursing, PIV, fingering/oral (f!receiving) no mentions of birth control so WRAP it before you TAP IT FOLKS, references to canon typical violence and injuries, idiots to lovers, crest still exists bc im a lazy writer... I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,221

The stars flash by the Crest in a streaky, messy blur. The light reflects off the beskar clad man next to you. The conversation had died down a half an hour ago. Now you and Din sat in warm, comfortable silence. You should really head to your bunk, but you don’t want to. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open at this point. You feel like a child on the back of a speeder, confidently telling their parents they aren’t tired, that they won’t fall asleep on the way home this time. Every second you get with Din counts, even if it means falling asleep in the cockpit and waking up with a sore back. The uncomfortable chair was worth the reward of just being next to him.

But you’d never let him know that. You couldn’t.

It probably went against his code. Or even worse, there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same. The thought alone makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You quickly shake it off and glance over at Din. His visor is set on the deep space in front of you.

“You’re tired,” He says, his modulated voice breaking the silence.

“No, I most certainly am not,” You jokingly insist, shifting slightly underneath the blanket he had gotten for you just a few minutes ago.

“Sure you aren’t, cyar’ika,” He chuckles softly. He knows he’s right, and you do too. But you don’t want to fall asleep, not now. Not when he’s next to you, teasing you, leading you on. It doesn’t matter if this ends in heartbreak. You just want to be with him, to hear his voice, to feel him near you.

You smirk at him, and you hope he’s smirking back underneath that helmet of his. “I’m fine, really,” You insist, your smirk turning into an appreciative smile. He nods and turns back towards the stars ahead.

You quietly wish he was still looking at you.

And then, he breaks the silence again. “Your back is gonna hurt tomorrow if you fall asleep out here,” He says softly, intently. Your heart drums away rapidly in your chest. “Don’t need you getting more hurt than you already do because of me…” He trails off. There’s a sense of sadness in his voice. “I’m supposed to look out for you.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The blaster shot, just a week ago. Your hand finds its way underneath your shirt, rubbing softly at the wrap Din had resecured over the injury earlier this morning while you were still on Tatooine.

“Din,” You whisper, inching to the edge of your chair to be closer to him. “I’m here because I chose to be, because I want to be,” You pause for a second to stop yourself from giving away more than you mean to. “And I’d be getting into trouble no matter what, with or without you,” You joke. It was true. Maybe it wouldn’t be bounty hunting, and it certainly wouldn’t be Jedi stuff like your parents had tried to force you to learn throughout your childhood, but it would’ve been something.

If you were to be completely honest, one thing you’re fully convinced of is that whatever it would be, it would always be with Din, in every universe, every timeline. Something called you to him, clung you to him. The stars, the force, something. Whatever it was, it kept you here.

He turns his helmet towards you and stares in silence for a few seconds. Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest at the attention. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. He takes a hand off the controls and reaches towards you, resting his hand on your own.

“Thank you,” He mutters through his vocoder. He’s rarely ever this open, this vulnerable with you.

“You don’t have to thank me for being honest,” You whisper, practically unintelligibly. Your nerves are getting the best of you. One more move from Din and you’ll melt into a puddle of words you’ll never be able to take back.

He squeezes your hand softly and pulls away. Somehow, your hand has never felt colder than it does in this very moment.

After a few minutes, his voice fills the cockpit once again. “Just don’t fall asleep out here, ‘kay? Take the bunk if you’re tired. You need rest.” Despite the modulator there’s a warmth in his voice. You could swear there’s even a hint of care, possibly even love…

No, You think to yourself. Maybe you should head to the bunk. Maybe you do need space from Din. What are you supposed to do when you can’t hold these stupid feelings back anymore? What are you supposed to do when the inevitable happens, when he delivers that final crushing blow, ‘I don’t feel that way about you, I’m sorry.’ You stare off into the distance. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You were doomed from the start. So foolish, so fucking foolish, You think.

“You okay?” Din’s words yank you from your thoughts. He’s staring at you again, and you’re more than positive that there’s a look of concern hidden beneath that visor.

All you can muster is a quiet yes and a subtle nod. Din nods back, but you know he’s not quite buying it. He looks towards the control panel, quickly flicking some lever on. Your eyes are too heavy to pay attention to what he’s actually doing. “I know I’m not as…open as you,” He pauses for a second, debating what to say next, “But if something’s wrong, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

“I know,” You whisper back. And Maker, did you want to.

The cockpit finally succumbs to comfortable silence once again. Despite your endlessly wandering mind, it was even harder to stay awake now. Thinking about all the possibilities and paths was far too overwhelming. It took up more energy than you had. So, just as Din expected, you drift off to sleep, your exhaustion finally taking hold.

He looks over at you, curled up against the co-pilot’s chair, laying on your side, facing him. You had fallen asleep; he knew you would. You always did. Din smirks, you never did listen. He loved that about you, your stubbornness, your independence. He knows you can’t stay like that though, sleeping on that rigid chair, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. You barely sleep enough as it is.

He stands up from the pilot’s chair and walks over towards you, carefully taking your legs under one arm and your upper body under the other. He scoops you up and walks out of the cockpit and towards the one and only bunk on the Crest.

You can feel the cold beskar against your side, your skin slightly exposed as your shirt rides up your stomach. You absent-mindedly nestle into Din’s chest, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Din?” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. Part of you thinks this isn’t real, that you’re dreaming, and you’ll wake up in the co-pilot’s chair alone.

He shushes you softly, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your shoulder. “I’ve got you, cyare.” His voice is calmer than usual, more relaxed. “You fell asleep in the cockpit.” He approaches the bunk, loosening his hold on you ever-so-slightly as he carefully places you down onto the bed. But you don’t let go of him, you want to keep him close.

Once he’s sure you’re secure in the bunk, his hands slide out from under your body and up to where your arms rest around his neck. He doesn’t let go. It isn’t until you feel his fingers brushing against your bare arms that you realize his gloves are off.

Maybe now is the time to test the waters. You can feel the word vomit coming up, burning your metaphorical and emotional esophagus. And Maker, do you wish he’d just lay down with you, sleep next to you. Maybe the risk is worth the reward.

“Would you stay with me?” The words finally leave your lips. You’re shocked at your ability to ask a question like that. You had never shared the bunk before. One of you always slept in the cockpit. “You should rest too,” You say, trying to cover up your true intentions.

Din shifts a bit in his spot, but he still doesn’t let go of you. You can see the gears turning in his head. “Okay,” He decides. You practically gasp with shock, and you embarrassingly do your best to hide it.

He takes his armor off, but not his helmet, like he always does. You’ll never get over how he looks without his chest plate, his broad shoulders, his tan skin. You move further into the bunk, giving Din space to climb in next to you. He shuts the door to the bunk, and only once the tiny space has been encased in darkness does he remove his helmet.

You’re up against one another, face to face, no space in between – not even an inch. You’d never been with him when he didn’t have his helmet on. Your stomach does a backflip at the thought that he feels safe taking it off with you, even if it’s in the darkness.

He hesitantly drags his hand up to your waist, resting it softly just above your hip. “Is this okay, cyare?” You had never heard his voice unmodulated. It’s clearer, unadulterated. Honey, golden, but still somehow rough. You want to replay every word that he says.

You hum a yes into the darkness. You nervously bring your hand up to his neck, waiting briefly for him to protest – but he doesn’t. “What’s that mean, cyare?” You ask, struggling to pronounce the word.

He takes a few seconds before answering your question. You can’t help but think that you’ve pressed too far. “Don’t worry about it,” He says finally. Yep, pressed too far, you think to yourself.

You quickly remove your hand from his neck, immediately realizing that you’ve crossed a million boundaries all within a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry I just-,”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far away from him. “It means beloved,” He says curtly. “And cyar’ika,” He pauses, and you can hear him swallow harshly. “It means sweetheart.”

You try not to overthink his confessions, or translations rather. They could just be meaningless pet names that have absolutely nothing to do with how he feels for you. Why get riled up only to be brought back down?

But then again, there’s no avoiding this forever, and there’s no time like the present.

“Din,” You whisper. You’re not sure you can finish your sentence. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. “I…” You trail off, noticing how much the bunk smells like him, musk and spice and something else you can’t quite place.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He asks.

You laugh anxiously to yourself. “You didn’t tell me what that one means,” You say, trying to stall, to buy time.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me what’s on your mind,” He says coolly, as if none of this is affecting him. He knows what he’s doing.

You take a deep breath. “I think about you Din,” You mumble nervously. “All the time, and I think I-,”

He cuts you off, stealing the words from you, as if he could read your mind. “I love you.”

His lips come crashing down onto yours in the darkness. The kiss isn’t rushed or hurried, but there’s a hunger to it, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Din wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him – if that’s even possible.

You’re almost upset when he comes up for air. It isn’t enough, you need more. You want to be forged to him somehow, irreversibly, and irrevocably sealed to one another.

“I love you,” You say to him, breathing heavily, your heart beating out of your chest.

“I know,” He says back, his lips meeting yours once again.

His hand slips under your shirt, his thumbs dragging against your skin. Heat rushes to your core and you can’t help but let out a soft moan – after all, you and Din are far beyond touch starved.

He pushes himself up and over you so that you’re held down underneath him. Your hands explore his entire body, his waist, his stomach, his abs, until you finally reach his face. You find his lips with the tips of your fingers. Din peppers them with kisses as you glide upwards towards his nose, then the bags under his eyes, his forehead. You wished you could see his face, but for now this would do. This was more than enough. This was more than you could have ever asked for.

“Wanted this for so long, cyare,” Din says between breaths. He burrows his head into your neck, nipping at the exposed skin. “Wanted you this whole time,” He says, his lips pressed against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move further up your body, pushing under your bra. “Please Din,” You mumble. “Need you.” And that’s all the permission he needs. He pushes your shirt up and over your head, throwing it somewhere in the mess of bunk, along with your bra.

He rolls his thumb over one nipple before moving to the other. “You’re so fucking perfect, so beautiful,” He sighs, pinching your nipple slightly before trailing down towards the waist band of your shorts. He tugs on the fabric and dips his hand inside. He feels the outside of your panties, already soaked through. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so wet for me mesh’la.”

You squirm underneath him. You need him to touch you, to do something, anything. “Din,” You mutter. “I-,”

Before you can finish your sentence, he’s yanking your shorts and your panties down your legs. He climbs back over you, his hand trailing up your inner thigh before diving into your folds and settling on your clit.

“Wanna make you come, pretty girl,” He whispers against your ear, his fingers making quick work of rubbing your clit. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing. His words alone could send you over the edge.

You shudder under his touch as he quickens his pace. “Feels s’good,” You moan into his mouth as his lips come down onto yours.

“Doing so good for me,” Din murmurs. “Being such a good girl.” You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as Din’s fingers press harder against your clit, circling faster. You throw your head back and moan his name.

Then, out of nowhere, Din’s hand leaves your heat. You need more, you need to feel him. “Please don’t stop,” You beg shamelessly. The covers shuffle as he moves, and you can feel the weight of the mattress sink a bit.

He doesn’t give you much time to grieve the loss of his fingers, his tongue dragging up the inside of your thigh. “Oh fuck,” You whimper as Din’s mouth meets your heat. You can feel his beard softly scratching against your legs. He brings his fingers towards your folds, pushing inside. “S-shit,” You stutter as Din pumps two fingers in and out of you.

His tongue alternates between swirling around your core and sucking roughly against your clit. “You taste so good, so fucking good,” Din’s voice vibrates against you, making it harder to hold on. “Can’t wait to be inside of you.” His fingers pick up their merciless pace, pumping in and out.

“Din, I-I can’t…” You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. You’re on the brink, you can’t hold back any longer.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” Din coos. He laps at your folds in between sentences. “Let go for me mesh’la.”

You feel your walls tightening around his fingers as waves of searing hot pleasure wash over you. “Din!” You cry out, his fingers still pushing in and out of your folds, his mouth still sucking softly against you. He slows his pace as you come down from your high before finally pulling away from you.

He pushes himself back on top of you, his forehead coming up to rest against yours. You reach down, your fingertips brushing against his erection.

“Need you inside of me, Din, please,” You beg, jerking him off gently through his pants. Din groans audibly, and you stop for a moment to hook your fingers under his waistband. Din helps you, shoving them and his boxers down his legs and casting them off into the mess that you two had made.

He grabs his cock in his hand, jerking it off a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. You can feel the head of his length as he pushes through your folds and sinks all the way inside you. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he fills you up. He moans your name, and it hangs in the air, reverberates against the walls of the bunk.

“So fucking tight for me,” He groans, pulling himself out of you to pump back in and bottom out. He’s so deep inside of you, hitting the right spot with each thrust. “You feel so good.” You clench around his length at the sound of his voice.

He reaches down, the tips of his fingers once again finding their way to your clit. Din immediately begins rubbing rough circles, just as he did before. He finds his pace, rutting in and out of you rhythmically. It isn’t long until you feel yourself growing closer to your peak.

“Din,” You sigh, barely able to get a word out. “I’m so close.”

“M-me too, pretty girl,” Din stutters, somehow finding a way to pump into you harder and faster. “F-fuck, taking me so well.” He presses harder into your clit, circling around your core. You bring your hands up to his back, digging your nails down into his skin. It was too much. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust. You can feel your walls tightening uncontrollably around him. “That’s it, good girl. Come for me.” And you can’t help but give in.

“D-Din!” You practically scream his name, coming undone around him. You throw your head back, seeing sparks and stars as you hit your peak. Din is close behind, his pace growing sloppier as he comes inside you. He slowly thrusts in and out before pulling out.

He takes a deep breath, his forehead coming down to rest on yours.

“You’re so perfect,” He whispers, his breath ghosting your nose. “Shouldn’t have waited so long to do that…” He trails off, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you Din,” You say, still out of breath. “I always have. I would’ve waited longer if I had to.”

He kisses you again, even gentler than last time. “I always knew you’d be the death of me,” He chuckles. You can feel his laugh vibrate through his face, through his whole body. No beskar, no hiding. “And I promise, I will always love you, cyar’ika…

“Always.”

Yeah, I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

And I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

[gravehags]

something so precious

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: reader being sad and lonely, comfort from darling Copia, terzo being a scheming little matchmaker, mention of RATS OHWHOOOOAHHHH

Words: 1,461

Summary: When Terzo asks you to eat dinner with the rest of the abbey, how bad can it get?

a/n: I hc Copia as being an extremely lonely person, particularly when he's a Cardinal, so naturally he would be the best person to receive comfort from when you're feeling isolated and alone.

~~~

“Terzo?” you ask, leaning back in your squeaky leather chair. “Why do none of the siblings speak to me?”

Papa Emeritus III, currently sitting on your desk twirling a pen between his fingers as he hides from whatever duties Imperator has requested of him on this day, stops his movement and looks at you askance.

“Well obviously, bella,” he starts in that smooth voice you’ve come to recognize as the signature tune he uses when he wants to convince someone of something, usually involving accompanying him to bed, “it is your immense beauty. Your stunning intellect. Your–”

You lean forward in your chair abruptly with a tired expression on your face.

“Cut the bullshit, please,” you say, snatching the pen out of his grasp, “I’ve been here almost a month and not a single person other than you, the other papas, Cardinal Copia, and Sister Imperator has approached me. Are my vibes that bad? Is it because I’m not a member of the church?”

“Eh…” he begins hesitantly, “the best guess I have is because you’re basically upper clergy, dolcezza. Most siblings don’t casually associate with anyone higher in rank unless it’s for…” his painted lips quirk into a lascivious grin, “...other reasons.”

You frown. “Upper clergy? How exactly am I upper clergy? I’m literally just an employee?”

“Well,” he says, hopping off the edge of your desk and slipping into the chair opposite you, “a cardinal once held the position you do. Performed the same duties you are performing. Therefore in a way, your status is equal to that of a cardinal. Capisci?”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat deflated. Terzo immediately picks up on your tone and hops out of his seat to stand by your side and take your hands.

“Come to the dining hall tonight, eh? I know you’re content to eat alone in your rooms but it will be good for you, I promise.”

You’ve been avoiding the dining hall like the plague since you got here, preferring to eat your sad bowls of cereal on your couch every night. Maybe it would do you good to have an actual square meal. You nod at him and he beams, squeezing your hands.

“Bene! I’m sure you will find your place at the abbey soon, mia ragazza.”

He pats a gloved hand on your cheek and bounds out of your office to go cause mischief elsewhere. You sigh deeply and prop your elbows on your desk.

“It will be fine,” you murmur to yourself before turning back to the work you had abandoned when Terzo came in, “you will be fine.”

—

This, you decided, was the worst fucking idea.

When you first walked into the vast dining hall you were taken aback by its beauty. Paneled walls lined the room and a dramatic arched wooden ceiling soared above you. After you finished gazing at your surroundings, you were hit with the fact that half the room was staring at you.

Oh fuck, you think, skittering over to the food line in an effort to blend in better. You gratefully take your bowl of hearty vegetable stew and sizeable hunk of crusty bread and turn around to face the room. Siblings eye you, whispering amongst themselves and suddenly you’re struck with the worst pit of anxiety in your stomach. The room is filled with a number of tables in varying sizes and as you scan the room, your heart sinks when you realize there are no empty tables. Shuffling with your food into the center of the room you’re about to panic and give up entirely when you turn to a four-person table in a corner with one occupant.

Cardinal Copia.

He’s hunched over his bowl, delicately spooning stew into his mouth when he spots you hustling towards him. Dropping his spoon, his mismatched eyes go wide as you approach the table, jaw falling open slightly.

“Can I, um,” you begin in a hushed voice, “can I sit with you?”

A beat passes and you’re starting to wonder if he heard you when he rockets out of his seat, straightening his black cassock. Before you can say anything he’s drawing a chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit.

“Please, signorina!” he says in a hushed, almost reverent tone as you take a seat. “Your company is eh, most welcome.” Copia returns to his own seat and gives you a nervous little smile that makes you smile in return. Graciously, he upturns your glass and fills it with water from the carafe sitting next to him on the table.

“Thank you,” you say, mirroring his hushed tone. “Thank you so much. This place…this place is like high school all over again,” you say in a rush as you finally spoon some much needed quality food into your mouth.

“Is it?” he asks, “I ah…wouldn’t know.”

You cock your head and your brows draw together.

“How so?” you say, leaning forward to take another spoonful of the delicious stew.

“I completed all my schooling within the church,” he says, pushing a carrot around his bowl.

“Oh! Were you raised in the church then?” you ask, truly intrigued.

“Sì…in Roma. I’ve been groomed for this position,” he sighs heavily, “my whole life.”

You had no idea the depth and breadth of the church’s reach throughout the world. Truly it both baffled and fascinated you. Not knowing quite what to say to his revelation, you both continue eating in silence.

“How are you…how are you liking it here?” he asks with a hint of concern.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t imagine a prettier place to live and work.”

“That’s not what I meant, signorina.” His eyes, particularly the white one that almost glows, burn into yours.

“I…” your voice chokes up a little so you clear your throat, “I don’t have a lot of people to talk to. No one will speak to me, you know? I left all my friends behind and I’m so isolated now and–” you cut yourself off, feeling the tears welling in your eyes. He looks startled by your confession, and reaches a gloved hand across the table to take yours. When he looks at you with more softness than you have seen from anyone in a very long time, you let out an embarrassing sob.

“I know,” he whispers, thumb stroking your knuckles. “Believe me, signorina. I know.”

You wipe your tears with the cloth napkin at the table almost viciously, feeling humiliated that you’ve let Copia of all people see you like this. You hold him in such high esteem and you cringe at what he must think of you now.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, removing your hand from his. “I…Christ this is so mortifying.”

“Not mortifying at all, signorina. I asked you a question and you answered with your heart. I…want to be someone you come to when you are feeling like this, sì?”

You nod, smiling at him gratefully as you watch him pick up his hunk of bread. He’s so…so wonderful and empathetic and charming and lovely and…and he’s currently picking apart his bread into tiny chunks and placing them within his napkin.

“Um,” you begin inelegantly, unsure of how to proceed, “what are you doing?”

“Hmm?” he looks up at you and his cheeks redden when he realizes you’ve been watching him. “Oh I…eh…”

You nod conspiratorially. “Midnight snack, huh?”

His painted lips twist into a smile and he chuckles, causing you to smile again.

“Not for me…for my bambini.”

“Peculiar babies who eat table scraps, no?”

“Eh…they’re…they’re rats.”

He’s positively glowing with embarrassment but your smile gets even wider.

“Oh!” you cry, clapping your hands together, “tell me about them! Can I meet them?”

He swallows several times before cracking a nervous half-smile.

“Sì, of course! They are such sweet little things…”

He’s got such a fond look in his eye, but you’re not sure if it’s regarding his rats or you. The thought makes you flush and look down at your lap.

“I’m glad Terzo told me to come to dinner tonight,” Copia says in a small voice, smiling at you. Your eyes widen at the revelation but you say nothing, simply mirroring his grin.

“He’s Papa for a reason,” you state simply. “Are you done eating? I’m dying to hear more about these babies of yours.”

Hours later, the two of you are the last people to leave the dining hall after being ushered out by irritated siblings. When you part, it’s with the promise that you will one day soon visit Copia’s rodent children. You bid your soft goodbye, hand lingering on his bicep when you thank him for his time and you begin the walk to your quarters.

Maybe the abbey isn’t so bad after all.

[theemporium]

please Remus with shy reader who gets jealous and sad when sees someone flirt with him

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

You trusted Remus, more than you trusted anyone else in your life. 

You knew he loved you. You knew that he thought you were the best thing in his life. He was a love-struck fool who kissed the ground you walked on and loved nothing more than spending every waking moment he could next to you. You knew all of this because he had told you as such countless times, his friends had told you countless times. 

But still, that didn’t help disperse the bitter feeling in the pit of your stomach as you watched the girl standing beside him at the bar, smiling and laughing and tossing her hair over her shoulder in the most photogenic way you had ever seen. 

The fruity cocktail you had been sipping on tasted like ash on your tongue.

But you didn’t say anything once Remus returned to the booth your group had grabbed when you entered the bar a few hours ago. He slid in beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulders as he placed his new bottle of beer on the table in front of him.

“Hey, darling,” he murmured as he flashed you a lazy smile before he leaned down to kiss you. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?” 

However before his lips could press against yours, you had turned your head to the side so he placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek instead.

He frowned at you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Hm?” you turned to look at him, giving him a soft smile. “Nothing, I think the drinks are getting to me.” 

His fingers traced shapes along your arm. “Do you want some water? I can go get you some.” 

Your stomach twisted at the idea of him going back up to the bar, of the girl approaching him again and making a bolder move this time. You quickly shook your head. 

“No, I’m fine,” you said to him before you spoke up again. “Actually, I think I need to go to the bathroom.” 

“Want me to come with?” 

But when you shook your head again, Remus’ concern only grew as he watched you disappear into the ladies’ bathroom.

When you exited, he was standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and lost in his own thoughts. However, Remus always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to you, and his head quickly snapped up so his gaze met yours.

“Remus—” 

“Be honest with me, baby,” Remus murmured, the music playing from the bar a little more muffled in the little corridor you were standing in. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” 

You let out a sigh, pulling the sleeves over your hands as you spoke, knowing full well you couldn’t keep it a secret from him. “I saw that girl you were talking to…”

His brows furrowed together. “What girl?” 

“At the bar,” you murmured, your chin tucked against your chest. “The pretty blonde who was flirting with you—” 

A slow grin spread across his face. “You telling me my pretty girl was jealous?”

Your cheeks flushed. “I—” 

“Baby,” Remus murmured as his large hands cupped your face, lifting your head so you couldn’t hide away from his gaze. “You got no need to get jealous, pretty girl, I only care about you.” 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, closing your eyes and sinking into the feeling of his touch. “It’s just…you’re pretty and pretty girls come up to you and—” 

“And I tell them that I’m not interested because I am dating the prettiest girl in this whole fucking world,” Remus hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “C’mon, baby, give me what I want.” 

A smile slowly grew on your face. 

“There it is,” he grinned triumphantly. “C’mon, let’s go get another one of those drinks you like. And then let’s go home so I can get it into that pretty head of yours that you’re the only girl in my world.” 

Your cheeks burned but you couldn’t deny your body hummed in anticipation.

.

[sanjisluvbot]

Could we get a Yandere platonic strawhats x reader, where someone from the reader’s world somehow also gets isekai’d- and maybe tries to encourage the reader to look for a way home behind strawhats backs?

Masterlist

A/N: Sure thing !

Warning: Slight Stockholm

The night fell and only the stars and the moon light up the Sunny. Laying in bed with someone you once considered a friend when a thud on the deck peaked your curiosity. You didn’t want to wake anyone, sneaking around the room to the door clenching the knob as quietly as you could. You open the door slowly, not only for discretion but for protection as your eye peaks through the crack. Without the light you couldn’t see but a figure was sprawled out in the middle of the deck, unmoving.

You look over your shoulder, silver glimmers through the moonlight invading the otherwise dark room on the corner of the girls vanity.

A pocket knife, you snatch it and creep back to the door, cringing when you hear a slight squeak under your foot. The knife safety secured in your right hand waiting to strike as you walk out onto the deck, slowly approaching the unknown.

The moon helps you see better when you get closer, it was a normal looking human. Your hand reaches out and that’s when the person in front of you woke up. As they were about to scream your hand quickly makes it way to their mouth. As this happens your able to see their face clearly, a familiar face.

The revelation soon comes to the two of your and you embrace one another, after doing a little catching up a new light appears.

Zoro had woken, ears as sharp as ever and he immediately gets defensive over the unwelcome guest aboard. You try to keep things under wraps but before you knew it the entire Strawhats crew was woken due to the commotion.

The same questions arose from when you first got here, a familiar sense of dread set in your stomach as well. You were already in a dire situation, your friend could very much end up the same if they were to find out how they’d gotten here.

When you were able to get some alone time you warned them, you could tell my the expression panic had set through your dear friend. You did your best to calm them down and assured them that you’d both get home without doubt.

However, this time around they’d become even more overbearing. You had a feeling they realized you two were from the same place, you should’ve known when you were the one who defended them when they were being interrogated. Letting out a sigh your rake your hand over your face beginning yet another day of figuring out ways to go home.

You’ve read every book, scroll, anything with words, hoping you’d get a clue or an answer, yet nothing seems to pop up pertaining your situations. Your friend was more creative in this aspect than you would’ve thought.

During times you were left alone your friend shared multiple plans getting away from the Strawhats and of getting home without ending up here again.

When you would make pit stops on islands the two of you would partner up going door to door for information, until you felt the eyes of the crew burning holes in the backs of your heads.

A smirk fell in your face when your friend came to whisper, “ This is harder than I thought, they’re like predators waiting to pounce. How could they be onto us.”

It made you chuckle both in humor and sadness. God forbid someone else ends up here, it’ll take some time but that sense of danger and the deep sinking feeling of dread always makes itself known.

Your friend never stops encouraging you though, reiterating plans and quirking them only to realize that they were two steps ahead of us. Always.

You gave up hope along time ago but, your friend always gives you a glimmer and your grasp for the first embers that on every occasions are just beyond your reach.

Sometimes you were thankful your friend was here. Not just because you felt alone with 11 other people on the ship but, because you could finally be completely alone for more than five minutes as the crew was now heavily infatuated with their new member.

It was as if you were back to watching one piece through a screen, watching everything play out the same way it did when you first arrived but to your friend.

Luffy’s eyes flickering in excitement of having a new friend to play with, Sanji trying to enchant them with charms and drinks, Zoro making mental notes about the little things they do, the entire crew just seemed robotic and fake before your eyes.

Time flew and as the attention was now barley on you they hadn’t realized how much you’d changed. It’s not that you even craved the attention but the growth you had made was so externally shown that it shocked you every time you glanced at the mirror.

Although it’s unclear through screen, each member of the crew was incredibly toned. Even the ones who seem weak, and fragile, the muscle definition before your eyes made them all look like Olympic gold medalists.

While they were so distracted you accustomed your body to the standards of this world, making yourself stronger and faster. Surprisingly even your friend hadn’t noticed, maybe reveling in all the attention stolen from you.

Like a moth to the flame. The flame of attention that followed your friend, no, don’t let intrusive thoughts fuel the growing hatred of your friend.

You’d been here for half a year now, your friend arriving only three months after you arrived. Who would’ve known that you’d not only still be here but be here with your friend. It was nice to still spend time with them when the straw hats weren’t down your throats.

Looking at the endless sea they turn to you, “ I know how hard you’ve been working, I never said it but I can tell.”

You him and turn to them, your peripheral vision giving you a small view of Robin watching the two of you while pretending to read a book. You almost groaned till they started speaking again.

“ I know we’ve tried everything. Everything that we could think of… that was considered safe. Sage enough that we couldn’t get caught.”

You nodded wondering which direction the conversation was going to go. You eyes widened at what they said next, completely shocked by the now growing excitement tingling in your joints.

“ We need to get out the box we’ve put ourselves in, try things that aren’t so safe. I know you’re capable, but so do the rest of them.”

You relaxed your face, not wanting to show joy that would invite unwelcome guests in your vicinity. You were glad to finally start getting serious with your friend, you concluded long ago that you wouldn’t get away from them if you played everything safe, never taking a risk.

You could also argue about why you play it safe in the first place, remembering nights where they’d lock you in a room at the bottom of the ship, only your thoughts to sleep with, listening to the eire sounds of the ship rocking back and forth against the merciless waves. Or when their grip shattered the bones in your wrist making you feel less than human.

There were many reason why you had to place it safe, but that glimmer of hope that made you want to finally just reach for it.

You finally decided to say something, and the smile on your friends face rivaled a child’s expression on Christmas Day.

“ We can leave tonight.”

A/N: I actually really liked this, I wanted to go on and write more maybe expanding on the different things that happened over the three months with Y/N’s Friend and the crew but I didn’t want to make this too long as I have a chapter to write and a few more asks 😭. Hope you enjoyed !

[bendydudeinc]

UGH MORE DAZAI BRAIN ROT

these have been completely self indulgent lately I’m sorry aheh

I’m on marry wana, this is not entirely proof read !

Warnings: public play, almost getting caught, getting fingered in the bathroom lol mentions of Chuuya I’m sad there are never any transmasc fics

Dazai has me pressed to the bathroom sink, one hand gripping my jaw and making me meet his eyes in the mirror as his other hand works it’s magic inside of me. He trails his hand down my jaw to tighten around my neck and snap my eyes back to his when his three fingers inside of me curl just right and my eyes roll back into my head. I can feel the pit of anxiety growing in my stomach as my eyes lock on the door in the reflection of the mirror, heart ramming with nerves when I think about someone walking in. Yet….

“You’re clenching ‘round me Bella…..you’re scared someone’s gonna walk in huh?”

I get an extra harsh few thrusts of his fingers that makes me slap a hand over my mouth to muffle a choked moan. He smiles like a mad man and only speeds up, taunting me as his fingers hit with precision and dance against my g spot consistently as if he never runs out of energy.

“I hope Chuuya stumbles in after too much wine…Can you imagine how- fuck, you want him to see you like this hm? Can you imagine the look on his face? It would be absolutely priceless~”

My soft moans and whimpers are muffled in my hand, but I go silent as a mouse and feel my face heat up rapidly when I see the doorknob to the bathroom begin to turn. My eyes meet Dazais in the mirror with panic, catching my breath in my throat as I feel my heart drop to my stomach and my throat tighten. He on the other hand smirks, a dark look in his eyes as he thrusts his fingers in hard, curling them carefully and running the pads of his fingers back and fourth against my g spot.

“Oh my f-fucking god like that Dazai-“

I almost mewl, chest tightening and forcing out a pathetic sounding whine instead as I squeeze my eyes shut tight to avoid the inevitable embarrassment. To my dismay however, Dazai grabs my face hard and forces me to look at the reflection of the door in the mirror as the door opens a few inches. My face looks like a mixture of horror, and like I might just cum on the spot. The movement of the door pauses, time seems to slow down, until it closes again, handle back in its resting position. Whoever was on the other side must of decided- they didn’t want to know. The adrenaline of my situation hits me all at once, and my orgasm rips through my body in what feels like sonic waves as I gasp and cry out, unable to hold back anymore as Dazai talks me through my orgasm and keeps my eyes on his in the mirror. If it wasn’t for his strength, my legs probably would have given out. I can feel my cum dipping to my thighs and lewd sounds begin to echo in the bathroom as he finger fucks my cum back inside of me. I whine at him to be more quiet or someone will actually catch us next time.

“Oh, I’m sure everyone already knows what happened in here baby.”

In conclusion? Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai Dazai

[cyraclove]

Happy Sunday, have a little hellcheer thing that I needed to evict from my brain:

Eddie is ten years old. He wakes up around the same time he usually does on Saturday mornings and shuffles into the bathroom, bleary-eyed and barefooted.

It’s quiet this morning. There’s no coffee maker gurgling, no newspaper rustling. He doesn’t hear the muffled sound of a newscaster droning on about the weather. That’s weird.

As he runs his toothbrush under the faucet, Eddie thinks back to the night before. His dad had come home late, tearing through the house looking for something. His words were slushy as he stumbled around, muttering something about a suitcase.

Eddie had watched him for a while until he tired himself out and slumped into his armchair like he usually did. He’d still be there in the morning, wearing the same clothes as the night before.

He isn’t, though. Not this morning.

Furrowing his brow, Eddie pokes his head into his father’s room. The bed’s empty, still made.

“Dad?”

There’s no answer, just the soft clink and whir of the ceiling fan above him.

Eddie walks out and into the kitchen, a strange tightness in his chest. Sunlight streams in through the window above the kitchen sink, but there’s not a single light on. Nearly all of the cabinet doors have been left open.

A rusted, red Folgers coffee can lays toppled over on the counter. There are two quarters on the floor right beneath it. Fifty cents, Eddie thinks to himself. Two more and he’d have a whole dollar.

The front door creaks open and Eddie startles, whipping his head toward the sound.

“Dad?”

It’s not his dad. A tall, graying man with a sad, weary smile stands in the doorway. Eddie recognizes him from pictures and a couple of Christmases. He looks older than the last time he’d seen him.

“Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne sighs as he crosses the room toward Eddie. His eyes are wet as he looks down at him. “Hey, kiddo,” he says softly. “Still in your jammies, huh?”

Something icky gurgles in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, the same feeling he gets when he knows he’s done something to make his father mad. This isn’t right.

“Where’s dad?”

Eddie sees Wayne wince, swallowing hard. He pauses, like he’s not sure what to say. “Listen, Ed—“

Before Wayne can finish, Eddie darts past him and all but crashes into the screen door, running out onto the deck. The wood is gritty and wet from the rain the night before. His father’s truck is gone.

Eddie’s face is hot and his eyes sting as he looks around. There’s no one outside but him.

“Dad?”

The wind whines through the trees.

“Dad?”

A dog barks from behind the fence next door.

“Dad?”

Eddie swivels toward the unfamiliar voice, gentle and kind. Machines beep and hum in the background as he stands next to a hospital bed, his clammy hand wrapped tightly around the plastic bedrail.

A nurse in a papery yellow gown smiles up at him as she cradles a snugly swaddled, ruddy-faced newborn.

Eddie’s throat is thick. His voice sounds all croaky when he speaks. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” the nurse chuckles. “You ready to meet your boy?”

The air leaves Eddie’s lungs when the baby is placed gently in his arms, a wiggly, fussy little thing that can’t possibly weigh any more than a dictionary. He’s soft and warm and staring right up at Eddie with big, pale blue eyes.

Eddie turns to Chrissy, laying in the hospital bed looking breathless and beautiful. She’s sweaty and starlit and beaming at him, her lashes glittery and damp.

“A boy?” he asks her. They’d waited to find out. “Did she say boy?”

Chrissy nods, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Yesterday’s mascara smears her cheek as she gives him a sniffly smile.

The mattress dips as Eddie gingerly sits on the edge of the bed next to Chrissy, her hand resting on his thigh. She’s all wires and medical tape and hospital bracelets. She’s amazing.

He stares down at the little boy nestled into the crook of his arm, at their son. Chrissy leans her head on his shoulder and his heart feels too big for his ribcage.

“Hey, kiddo,” he murmurs. “Happy birthday.”

[rillils]

i hate my angst loving self so much sometimes

think about a confused and not-entirely-there bucky screaming at steve, asking him why he left him there on the snow, asking why he didnt come back for him, telling him how long he waited for him to come and save him

FINE HONEY, YOU WANTED ANGST, I'LL GIVE YOU ANGST. AND I'LL CRY ABOUT IT 😭

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, tw: suicidal thoughts, very mild gore, nightmares, post-catws, angst is definitely not my thing what am i even doing here asjdhsjdh wordcount: 3815 a side note: while the language here is used in accordance with steve's profound sense of guilt, it doesn't reflect the author's personal beliefs on the matter - aka IT'S NOT HIS FAULT SKDLKS MY POOR BABY 😭😭

It always starts off quiet, like the darkened hall of a theater in the split second between the curtain opening over the stage and the actor’s first line. Silence, please. The show is about to begin.

The scenery changes sometimes, but it’s the mountains Steve sees most often in his dreams: the soulless gray of stone, and the blinding white of snow coating everything, from the peaks, to the valley, to the copse of fir trees, huddled together like children in the cold. Just like he remembers from that day in the Alps. No one knows how to torture him better than his own mind.

The wind rises sharp and icy, lifting sleets of frost with it, and a chill rolls down Steve’s spine. It’s not the cold, though.

It’s fear, congealing like a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. The show is about to begin. And he’s watched it all to the end countless times before.

“Steve?”

His head whips around, and Bucky’s right there, like he always is. A fixed point, unchanged, unmovable, his boots sinking soundlessly in the thick layer of snow beneath them.

He looks so beautiful, so oddly alive against the backdrop of his desolate place; a man at the peak of his youth, the pink of his cheeks nearly glowing next to the deep blue of his uniform, his hair combed to a movie-star shine, parted neatly to the side. It’s cruel, how perfect he is. Preserved like a cherished heirloom in Steve’s mind, never fading, never aging; a living picture, soft and rosy-cheeked. He belongs in a dance hall, in a crowded street, in the cheerful chaos of the fourth of July, in the color and noise of fireworks, in the tangle of ooh’s and aah’s under the firelit sky. He doesn’t belong here. But he’ll never leave this place.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side, confused. “You left a long time ago.”

“Bucky,” Steve tries to say, but the name dies on his lips.

The light in Bucky’s eyes dulls to a flicker, carrying a heavy gloom over his features. He looks so sad, all of a sudden. He never looked sad when Steve was around, Steve remembers that – and Steve never learned how to make it better.

He can never make this better.

“Steve.” All the color’s draining from his cheeks, quickly, leaving only the paleness of death behind. His eyes – they pierce right through Steve, empty and cold, so cold, and Steve shudders from head to toe.

“I waited for you for so long,” Bucky’s blue lips say, with a mournful lilt Steve used to hear in his mother’s voice when she would sing to him, all those heart-twisting songs about a home she’d never see again. “Where were you?”

Something dark spreads from within across the pristine blue of Bucky’s coat, dripping slowly from his shoulder, black like ink–

blood

– smothering the rich color underneath, reaching down, down–

he fell

– down along Bucky’s arm, until it’s streaking the back of his hand–

blood, it’s blood, he fell, he’s going to fall

– pooling ruby-dark at Bucky’s fingertips.

Soon the drops will spill all over the fresh snow, staining it red, too.

“You left me here.”

Steve can’t breathe.

“Why did you leave me here, Steve?”

Steve can’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and the next breath stings in his lungs, ice-cold and merciless, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, so sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he chants, hands clawing at his own chest. But what will it help? He can’t undo this. He can never undo this. “I should have held onto you,” he sobs brokenly, and it’s strange, how he can never tell when he starts crying in his dreams, but he always feels the tears streaming down his face, real as his grief is real, clogging up his throat. “I never should have let you fall.”

Bucky steps forward, dark blood trailing behind him on the ground. Steve’s heart jolts like a spooked horse, pounding loud and fast with adrenaline.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

He sounds so gentle. So devastatingly sad.

“Did I mean so little to you?”

Steve shakes his head, No, no, no, everything, you meant everything, always, I swear, tears flicking off the edge of his jaw to be lost in the snow-packed wind. “I t-thought you were dead,” he sobs, like he’s still curled up into the blown-up flank of that train, like he’s still got his face pressed to the ice-burn of its metal and praying for everything to end, now, before reality can reshape itself around him and tell him that Bucky is gone forever.

Something mean slithers behind Bucky’s eyes. “And you would have left my body to the wolves?” he says, his voice dangerously sharp over the moaning wind. “You didn’t think I deserved a proper burial?”

It’s snowing on the outside, but it’s inside that Steve feels ice gripping at his guts.

“You could have sent me home to my folks.”

It burns.

“To my sisters.”

It burns so bad, the shame crackling under his skin.

“At least then my family would have had a body to cry over. But it never even occurred to you, did it.”

Steve’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he pushes out uselessly, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve–”

“Or did you think that I was like you?” Bucky presses on, a cruel sneer forming on his white face. “Is that it? You fooled yourself so nice, you really thought I was like you? Like poor little Stevie? With no one left in the world who would miss me? No one who would even care if I was dead or alive?” He pauses, lips curling as though a new and amusing thought only just occurred to him. “Oh. Stevie, no. Did you think you were my whole world? Are you really that pathetic?”

“No,” Steve rasps, swallowing back tears and still drowning, drowning in them, “I never thought, I never– Please, Buck, I’m so sorry–”

Bucky’s silhouette blinks in and out of sight, and when he comes back, one moment later, he’s standing right before Steve, so close he need only reach out to touch him. His sneer is gone, but the depth of hurt in his eyes slices at Steve’s heart just as sharply.

“They took me, Stevie. You left me behind and they took me. Look,” he says, showing Steve the torn flesh where his left arm used to be – it was here just a moment ago, it was, Steve could swear it, it was right here – the bloody pulp of it, a frayed shard of white bone jutting out through the ripped muscle, sickening. His mouth, when Steve can finally look back, is curled back to show his teeth, the smile almost kind if it didn’t feel like a knife tearing at Steve’s own flesh. “This is all your doing. Isn’t it pretty?” Bucky tells him sweetly. “Tell me it’s pretty, Steve. Tell me it’s pretty.”

Without warning, Bucky’s hand darts up to clamp around Steve’s chin, gripping his face viciously. His touch is like ice, searing painfully into Steve’s skin, and Steve staggers in place, helpless but to look right into Bucky’s wide, desperate eyes.

“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers, hot tears spilling over his deathly pale cheeks. “I was locked in that place for so long, I couldn’t tell day from night anymore. It was so cold, and I was so alone, so alone without you, Stevie.”

His fingernails claw into Steve’s skin until they’re drawing blood, and Steve can only sob, can only take it, can only hope this will sate the hollowness he sees in Bucky’s eyes, if only for an instant. But it won’t, he knows it won’t. It never does.

If he could kneel at Bucky’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, keep him warm with the heat of his own tears, wash the blood away–

“I thought I was going to die. Every time they dragged me back to that table, I would tell myself, this is it. This is how it’s going to end,” Bucky tells him gently, nodding his head. “Sometimes, I even thought I should end it myself, before they could. But do you know what the worst part was? I didn’t die. No matter how bad I wanted it, none of the stuff they put me through ever did it. Hope kept me alive,” he snarls, soft through his bloodied smile. “That was my curse. I believed in you. I thought you would find me, save me. I told them you would come for me, and they laughed in my face, Stevie! They knew better.”

The sound that spills from Bucky’s mouth is the twisted, poisoned imitation of a laugh, emptied of all feeling, sharp like fingernails scraped across a blackboard.

“Don’t say that,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head, “please, don’t say that, no.” And he’d cover his ears if he could, lock that ugly truth out of his mind forever, but no muscle in his body will move until Bucky’s done with him.

“Do you know what happened then, Steve? You do know, don’t you?” Bucky asks, thrusting his face into Steve’s until only mere inches separate the tips of their noses – his eyes staring into Steve’s, a creeping echo of insanity gleaming from their depths. “They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.”

Hell. This is Hell.

“Because of you.”

This is what true torment looks like. No fire and brimstone, no howling souls of the damned, no blazing hail raining down upon him.

“It was always because of you.”

Just him and Bucky’s ghost, and a winter that never thaws.

“Bucky...”

The snowstorm rises against him with violence, angry, roaring in Steve’s ears, spreading frost over his chest, his arms, his bare face, freezing the tears caught in his eyelashes. Quiet, it demands. Don’t you speak to me. You have no right to speak to me.

But the yawning hole in Steve’s chest won’t stop screaming at him, starved for forgiveness, for a respite, for a mercy he never earned.

“Please, Buck... please...”

Bucky’s hand guides him down, pushing him to his knees. He crouches over Steve, gaze locked with his, heedless of the blood dripping dark and thick between his fingers; leaning in like he’s about to share a secret.

“I held out until I just couldn’t anymore. I tried to be strong, for you,” Bucky says in a harsh whisper. “But you never came.” His face, twisted by grief, wet with new tears. Steve cups it in his palms, but it’s no use: he can’t soothe this hurt. It’s too late now.

“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, forgive me– please, forgive me...”

Bucky’s grip on him relents; his fingers smear red over Steve’s cheek, four bloody streaks, and he strokes his knuckles over them, unbearably gentle.

“I waited for you for so long,” he says, mournful. His face is as cold as ice between Steve’s hands, stinging, burning. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

It hurts, it hurts so bad, so deep inside Steve’s heart.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

The wind surges up around them, rattling Steve’s bones from within. The snow’s soaking into his pants, swallowing up his knees, colder, colder, the blizzard’s smothering him, blinding him, only Bucky’s eyes bright in his vision, crying, accusing, screaming, screaming, screaming–

“WHY DIDN’T YOU LOOK FOR ME?”

-

Steve jerked awake in the darkness, gasping for breath, a handful of sheets clutched dangerously tight in his fist. He barely even registered the soft, alarmed noise coming from the other side of the bed.

“Steve? It’s all right, you’re safe now.”

His eyes scoured the dark bedroom frantically, fighting through the chilling veil of ice still creeping at the edge of his vision. His heart hammered loud like thunder in his ears, pulsing so wildly in his throat, he thought for a moment that it would burst out of his body.

“Steve.”

Where was he?

The mountains–

“It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re home.”

His gaze focused on the only source of light: the faint glow filtering in through the blinds, the familiar orange hue of the street lights in their neighborhood, casting a striped pattern on the floor. A rug, there was a rug there – and a pair of slippers flicked just a bit too far from the bed.

“Come back to me, baby.”

The crumpled lumps of two discarded socks, that never made it to the hamper – oh, Bucky hated it when he did that.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?”

A flicker of white–

– snow–

– Alpine, uncurling from her favorite spot and slipping soundlessly out of the room.

“Can you look at me? Steve.”

He turned his head towards the sound, staring wide-eyed into the shadows until finally, the outline of Bucky’s body emerged, sitting only an arm’s length away from him.

“That’s it, that’s good, Stevie.”

There was kindness in his voice, but his brow was creased with worry. His torso was half-twisted towards Steve, his body poised as though ready to reach out for him, but Bucky hadn’t touched him yet. Good, that was good. No. It hurt. That hurt.

Steve swallowed.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Can you do that? For me? Slow and easy, c’mon, with me.”

It was only then that Steve became aware of his own heavy breaths, the harsh sound of which filled up the room, gasp after gasp. He let go of the sheets and lay his hand on his own chest, where he could feel his pounding heartbeat, and tried to match Bucky’s calm, measured breathing as best as he could. He thought he was going to throw up.

“That’s it, just like that,” Bucky encouraged him.

Bucky–

Something flashed before Steve’s eyes; a fragment of a pale white face, with sneering lips and blood-stained teeth, taunting him with its cruel laughter.

You left me behind and they took me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”

Bucky shifted minutely on the bed, and a fleck of light caught the metal plates of his arm, a silver gleam darting quickly in the night.

Steve’s chin trembled. His throat closed up.

They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.

The tears came back before he could stop them, gathering hotly behind his eyes, pressing urgently to spill over.

“Bucky,” he choked out, and in the next moment he was crawling into Bucky’s open arms, curling his shaking body into Bucky’s sturdy frame. Bucky cradled him close, rubbing a soothing hand between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve sobbed freely, pouring all of his anguish in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“W-when you fell,” Steve stammered pitifully, clutching at the back of Bucky’s t-shirt with the desperation of a drowning man, “I should have come looking for you, I should’ve been there, should’ve– should’ve brought you back, I–”

“No, no, Steve,” Bucky rumbled, rocking him gently in his arms, “don’t do this to yourself. Please, baby, I’m begging you.”

Steve shook his head no, hiding himself deeper into the nook offered by Bucky’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. His chest felt too tight, too full – like a balloon filled with water and straining to contain it, the paper-thin skin tense to the point of bursting.

“I should have come for you, they – they never would have taken you, I wouldn’t have let them,” he stumbled on helplessly, “I would have died first! God, I would’ve... I would have died first, I swear, Buck, I swear...”

Bucky stroked his hand over Steve’s hair, kissing the spot above the shell of his ear, dark with cold sweat. Steve felt the dampness of it across his whole body, under the clinging cotton of his pyjamas, the unpleasant moisture cooling on his skin and leaving him to shudder in Bucky’s embrace.

“Look at me,” Bucky called softly. It was a simple request, laced with just the same gentleness Bucky would use sometimes to coax Alpine into his arms, but still Steve felt panic pool in his stomach.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look Bucky in the eye, not like this. Not when the truth – Because of you. It was always because of you. – was out at last.

What a scam he was. A whole lifetime spent preaching bravery, and the one time it truly mattered, he couldn’t even be brave enough to face the consequences of his own mistakes.

Please, don’t hate me, he sobbed silently against Bucky’s neck. You should. You have every right to. But please... please...

“Sweetheart, please, look at me.”

It took more strength than Steve had ever even known he possessed, but slowly, hesitantly, he let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot, and lifted his gaze to meet Bucky’s, if only for a fleeting moment.

Bucky’s flesh hand reached up to cup his jaw, working his thumb tenderly over Steve’s skin to wipe his tears away – a sweet, but fruitless endeavor, as more salty tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks, relentless.

“The truth is, neither of us could have known I would survive that fall,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against the flood of fresh tears. “I should’ve tried anyway, I should have come to you. I should have been there with you.”

Bucky grasped him by the arms, barely squeezing at all. The force wasn’t in his touch; it was in his voice, quiet to match the nighttime gloom, but firm nonetheless.

“What if they had taken you, too? What if they’d made you like me, what then?” he said, an edge of desperation coloring his voice, as if he couldn’t bear the very thought. “Do you think you could have lived with yourself, if you’d woken up one day to find that you had the blood of innocents on your hands?”

Steve’s head snapped up then, heat flashing fiercely in his chest. “What would I have cared, when you were there with me!” he cried out, panting heavily in the wake of that outburst.

Perhaps he couldn’t call this bravery; but when Steve could breathe again, their eyes finally met again.

If he’d feared he would see hate, or disdain, or resentment looking back at him, he didn’t find any of those. What he did find instead, staring at him from Bucky’s ever-familiar face, was the stubborn mark of love, shimmering brightly in Bucky’s eyes.

“Of course you would have cared,” Bucky whispered fiercely, cradling Steve’s face in both of his hands. “It would have killed you, and it would have killed me too. I could have never, ever forgiven myself, if they’d gotten their filthy hands on you because of me.”

His voice wavered, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. Steve could see the glossy sheen of them, threatening to spill over Bucky’s cheeks any second now, and felt his own heart split in two at the sight.

“Bucky,” he rasped, wetly, clasping Bucky’s wrists with his own hands to hold onto them, turning his face into those beloved palms to kiss them helplessly, one and then the other. Bucky never stopped holding him.

“Listen to me,” he said urgently, “listen to me now. We can’t change the past. We can’t, Steve.” A new sob ripped itself painfully from Steve’s throat, one he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to. “We can’t. It’s done, it’s there, we can’t take it back. And God, do I wish we could, believe me. But I want you to hear me when I say this: I am so grateful for what we have now. In the present. Our present.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath that rippled through his whole frame, as he openly struggled to keep his words clear and his voice steady. He was always the braver one, Steve thought, thrusting one of his hands out to grab a fistful of Bucky’s t-shirt, right over his breastbone.

“Steve. God, could you have ever dreamed that we could have this? I never even dared to hope for something like it, not even on my best days.”

He paused. Steve clung to him, his chest tight with emotion.

“The way we got here... Would I have chosen that? If I’d been given a choice, would I have wanted it to happen like that? No, of course not,” Bucky continued. “But if you asked me now, would I do it all over again, just for a chance to be here with you? I would say yes.” Steve whimpered, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face; but Bucky held him firmly, looking him right in the eye and nodding just as stubbornly, a watery smile on his lips. “Yes, Steve. Yes. A million times yes.”

He broke at last, and Steve lost what little control he had of himself. He tugged Bucky forward by his shirt and threw his arms around him, crushing their bodies together as if his life depended on it. Bucky returned the embrace with that same urgency, holding him tight as Steve muffled his sobs against Bucky’s shoulder, and buried his face in Steve’s hair in return.

The pinprick-like sensation of Bucky’s tears wetting his skin, as Bucky trembled quietly against him, felt like a bruise to Steve’s naked heart.

“Forgive me,” he begged, and he couldn’t have said what it was that he was seeking forgiveness for: if the pain he had caused Bucky now, or the one he couldn’t prevent so long ago.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Bucky murmured in his ear, his voice thick. “But I’ll say it, if you need to hear it.”

“Please,” Steve whimpered.

Bucky hugged him impossibly closer. “I forgive you. Always, sweetheart.”

The tightness within Steve’s chest unraveled, and in that moment, he breathed anew. Relief washed over him – and he cried, and cried, like a person cries when they’re gifted with kindness for the first time in a very, very long time, he cried until he thought he’d exhausted all his tears.

Bucky laid them both back against his pillow, chest to chest, shushing Steve’s hiccupping breaths with whispers of sweet nothings, never once letting him go.

“All that’s left to do now,” he said softly then, pressing a kiss to Steve’s brow, “is for you to forgive yourself.”

Steve burrowed deeper into his warmth, spent.

It would take a long time for that, and a tough, strenuous walk on the tortuous path towards that healing place. In the meantime, though, he could wrap himself into the safety of Bucky’s arms, and slip into a dreamless sleep for once.