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zo3mess · 5 months

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Bitter-sweet

Summary: Officers from other towns were reassigned to help the understaffed police force in Evergreen after the butterfly massacre. The good old game of cat and mouse begins with Vigilante continuing his shenanigans and one police officer determined to catch him. Except it is not entirely clear who is chasing whom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid and use protection guys), blood play, gun play (but not really) enemies to enemies with benefits type of relationship, violence, dead bodies, alcohol consumption, foul language. Female reader and no use of Y/N.

Word count: 5.4k (my hand slipped, I’m sorry)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: I realized I missed writing so much since I don’t write essays in school anymore and I got quite a positive reaction on my last work Laundry girl (I love you guys fr). This time I tried something different? I feel like this is messier than the last one, lousy idea, but you know how it is. Also I have never written smut before, so get ready for some weird shit. English is not my first language, I apologize for mistakes, especially with tenses. Criticism is very much welcomed! Thank you for every like, reblog and comment, it makes me all giddy whenever I get a notification <3

The Project Butterfly was a case that shocked everyone. Aliens invading Earth? Shady business with convicts led by Waller? Something that shocked you personally was the sudden disappearance of whole police precinct in Evergreen. Whole town ended up with no cops and needed help. Which was a great opportunity for you to start up.

Your dream? Gotham. City swarmed with villains. You needed to prove you’re tough enough for catching real supervillains. Where better to start than Evergreen? You agreed to relocate there to help, however your real target was Vigilante.

Some people said that what he was doing was good, catching criminals and ending their lives before they could do it again. But no one deserves to be above law and deciding fate of souls that can still reach redemption. Even if he helped saved the world from alien invasion.

So many times you saw him creeping through the streets late at night, but never managing to get close enough. After a few encounters, he realized you were specifically after him. A fan who kept a close eye on his work.

And since then, he started taunting you. Leaving a big V with the blood of his victims for you, quite few times even turning the signature letter into a heart. And they say romance is dead.

One night when you were stumbling home back from a bar, you heard weird sounds coming from an alleyway next to an abandoned store. Nothing out of the ordinary you would think, but it sounded like someone was in pain. You would be a bad cop to not help someone in need, no matter if it was past your working hours.

With caution you walked over there, lamp lights did a shitty job illuminating the streets, but you were able to recognize a body laying on the ground. Blood was seeping from under the man who was killed by a clear headshot, judging by the injuries you were able to see.

Quiet shuffling and groaning was audible from a distance. The realization that something is very wrong came far too late. Before you could even recognize what was happening a stranger pulled you around the corner and your yelp was muffled by a gloved hand.

“Shhhh shhh. It’s just me.” Vigilante. As if that made it any better. “If I remove my hand, will you scream?”

Decisions, decisions. You were more likely to punch him in the face rather than scream, but if he just killed the guy, it wasn’t smart to start a fight with someone riding on adrenaline and someone who is far more ready to fight. You would not cause much damage in high heels, short dress and still tipsy from the bar.

Eventually you shook your head, and he removed his hand from your face. Uncomfortable silence filled the air. Should you even ask what happened?

You searched for his eyes behind the red visor, until you noticed he was staring down. Was he…

“Are you staring at my tits?’’

“Your heart is beating really fast.” A simple observation that mesmerized him. He also wasn’t completely calm, quite the opposite. Since you disrupted his hunt so abruptly. Before you came he had been planning on drawing a nice big V on the floor for you, a greeting he sent you every time he left a corpse behind him.

A gloved hand made its way to your cleavage, pressing his hand against your skin to feel it rise and fall with every shallow breath you took. Your wide eyes followed his bold move, you felt the warmth of his body and it was making you feel insane.

All this time in Evergreen you focused on getting near to Vigilante, to catch him and serve some justice for reckless behavior, for playing God. And now he was closer than ever, even daring to touch you without a doubt in his head, it made your brain circuit.

You noticed he started to breathe faster too, his chest piece was rising with every deep inhale, and even in the low light of the street lamp you saw a dark stain on his mask. It did not take long before he rolled up the bottom half of his mask in exhaustion. No wonder he had trouble breathing when blood was flowing from his nose onto his lips that did not look exactly intact too. Must have been a heavy fight.

“Not so fast on your feet now, huh?” You had to mock him for it of course. All this time he was counting on his swiftness, it finally caught up to him.

“Shut up.” Vigilante tried to wipe the blood off his face with his wrist, groaning as he did so. Simultaneously you were taking a mental note that he was in fact comfortable with showing you the bottom half of his face. What was in your head an investigation of a target, he saw as blunt staring.

For a moment you two kept ogling each other. You took interest in the little human part he showed you, bloody puffy lips, clean-shaven jaw and few moles on his cheeks all felt surreal after all this time you saw him as a simple masked head with a red visor. Vigilante on the other had studied your eyes, how bright they suddenly looked, how they gazed at him with curiosity and most importantly how they kept flicking to his lips. He was no genius but a voice inside his head told him there was a tad more to this.

Something about stopping the alien invasion made him bolder, more confident, most of the time he felt like king of the world. Of course, people that knew him as Adrian Chase, a dorky weirdo, had no idea he basically saved the world. But you knew and he loved it.

You saw him as a villain, or at least desperately wanted him to be, and Adrian saw himself as hero of Evergreen. Heroes always get the girl, right? That’s how it should go.

He suddenly pressed his lips against yours, releasing a low painful groan when your noses got smushed. Hands dropped to your waist to pull you closer and yours found their way to his chest. Finally there was an opportunity to touch the expensive suit.

Vigilante pulled away before you could kiss him back. Maybe the alcohol made you much more reckless than you thought. “You taste bitter.” He commented and licked his lips. Was it that surprising? Considering you rocked a perfect sour face every time anyone even mentioned his name.

“I’ve been drinking gin and tonic at the bar.” Immediately as you explained your bitter lips and his bloody ones got connected once again in a far hungrier kiss. Regrets of tomorrow will be ringing in your ears for days. Will you be able to work with peace of mind when you’re making out in a dark alleyway with your nemesis?

His tongue pried its way into your mouth and brought the savory taste of blood with it. Who would have thought this psycho would be a good kisser. Conscience started flipping with guilt when you realized you enjoyed this more than running after him.

Your inner voice urged you to bite his lip, to worsen his wound, make it bleed again. You wanted to get back at him for pulling you into this situation and maybe, just maybe, you enjoyed the taste of copper in your mouth.

Your tongue swiped over his lower lip, searching and then probing into his split lip. The action made him tighten the grip he had on your waist, bunching up your coat. And when you bit harshly on his lip, tugging away and releasing it with a snap, he whimpered out the most sinful noise you have heard. It got stuck in your head, what would you give to hear it one more time. He pulled away in surprise and you got a chance to see your work, lip swelling and beautiful red appeared once again and his tongue licked the new blood that trickled down.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards before he quickly latched his mouth just under your jaw. You felt the sticky remains of blood he left with every kiss on your throat. It felt good, too good, but he you couldn’t grant him the satisfaction of you bearing throat to him. He did not deserve to feel like a predator, like he could simply latch his teeth into your weak spot.

“You realize that I have to do something about the dead guy, no matter how much you kiss me.” You manage to find the strength to keep your voice steady in between heavy breaths.

“Or you can just leave him here, he got what he deserved,” You immediately missed his warm lips on your neck. “You could get what you deserve too, if only you weren’t so stubborn. I could take good care of you” Vigilante murmured and left his position on your neck. With a little concentration, you were able to recognize two wide eyes staring at you through a red visor, twitching between your lips to your neck, clearly admiring the claim he landed on you. Blood and spit glistening all over your throat, oh could you get any sexier in his eyes?

“I should be putting handcuffs on you and taking you out of here.” You spat back and straightened your back with hopes of appearing taller, confident.

“Only if they are the pink fluffy ones you keep in your top drawer.” Smug smile played on his face as he presented his wrists up to you with a dramatic sigh. Your pink handcuffs? Wouldn't it be too on the nose for a police officer to have kinky handcuffs? He got it wrong anyway, you do not keep them in your top drawer, they’re in the third one. A stupid birthday gift can always turn out to be useful in the right situation.

“How do you know about those?” Blood in your veins grew colder in an instant. Then it hit you, this freak does more than laugh in your face every time you arrive at the crime scene too late, taunting you for every criminal he managed to catch before you.

“Are you stalking me?” Your voice cracked a little, it had been a long night and this just gave it a crown. Eyes glinting with surprise? Anger? Excitement? This is wrong, right? So why did your heart skip a beat at the thought of Vigilante watching you through your window?

“No?” More of a question rather than an answer. Fucking liar. “I happened to be walking around your house when you had your curtains open.” The way he said it was so slurred, he realized his mistake. Gloved hands were twitching along his sides, biting his lip in frustration of fucking up, wincing once the pain of split lip reminded him of his condition.

“Fucking unbelievable!” You pushed him away and with wobbly legs, you slithered past him. “I’m reporting this dead body to the precinct. Pack your shit and go.” You absentmindedly pointed to the dead guy bleeding on the pavement.

Meanwhile Vigilante was still standing there with eyes following your every movement as you walked over to his victim, listening to clacks of high heels. Part of him could not believe you would let him go just like that, especially after you learned of his occasional late-night visits, the other part wanted to run and save his ass, just to play this game a little bit longer.

Before he decided to listen to your order and leave, he took a last quick look at you as you tried to scrub off the dried blood he left on you while searching for your superior’s number on your phone.

Oh, the fire you two just started will keep him awake the rest of the night, he was sure of it. Whether it was cursing the world for throwing obstacles in his life with a bottle of whiskey or succumbing to his perverse mind in the shower.

After your strange run-up with Vigilante in the alleyway everything started to tangle up more than it used to. Starting with a patchy explanation of why you suddenly found a dead guy in valley without blowing out the truth that you made out with the killer a few minutes after he shot the poor guy.

Sharp mind turned into a dull organ sitting in your head, thinking about Vigilante in the opposite way you should. If you were still in middle school, you would be probably drawing stick figures of him and you with hearts all around while simultaneously stabbing a pencil through his head. Were you truly so weak to his charm? All you needed was to clear your head, right?

Same thoughts over and over again swarmed your head, even after a long day in work. You barely dragged your feet to your small house in exhaustion. You kicked off your shoes in hallway with a sigh and went straight to the living room. All you wanted was to lay on the couch, watch some stupid chick flick and let sleep take you.

The last thing you expected though, was a large figure lounging on the couch in complete darkness. Once you switched on lights you quickly recognized the one and only Vigilante.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You yelped sternly and swiftly pulled out your gun from a holster, wasting no time to point it at him. You were used to having everything under control, nothing could surprise you, so how did this guy manage to catch you off guard all the time, how did he manage to make your life so messy and most importantly how did he manage to break into your home?

“You’ve been slacking, I wanted to know what’s up.” Vigilante cocked his head up with absolutely no other reaction to being pointed at with a gun. You wanted to shoot him in the face just for this nonchalant gesture.

“You don’t chase after me anymore,” Another bored shrug, this time he sat up on your couch and leaned his head to the side like a confused puppy. “I missed your sour face.” The way his tone changed, from accusing to clear and soft, made you loosen the grip on your gun.

The first time Vigilante got almost caught by you got him addicted even more to the adrenaline. All this time he was getting kick from killing criminals, beating up scums that don’t respect rules. Getting drunk on the feeling of power. But the second he was cutting corners, sprinting through streets with you on his tail, unlocked a whole new world for him.

The intensity of danger, one wrong step and you would catch him, put handcuffs on him and throw him in jail. This little addiction he had was as dangerous as being addicted to any other drug. Doing anything to get another dose, this time it meant sneaking into your house and confronting you from eye to eye.

“How did you get in here?” Overreaction was audible in your question and there was no wonder. Usually secure house was suddenly intruded by the masked menace of Evergreen that basked in running away from you while laughing like a maniac. Now? He came up right to you, giving you opportunity to catch him right in act of breaking and entering.

You just kept standing there watching him walk over to you without fear, without a doubt.

“You forgot to close your bathroom window,” The tip of your gun met his chest piece when he finally stopped right in front of you. Even without the benefit of seeing his face, you knew in your bones he was smirking “It was hard to squeeze through, I’m expecting applause or something.”

A frown was all he got in retaliation, nothing more and nothing else was in place for his stunt. A sensible reaction from someone whose house just got broken into, he knew it damn well, yet it did not please him.

Vigilante freed his hands from gloves and threw them hastily on the floor beside your feet, all while staring down at you. Curiosity got the better of your conscience, finger slowly moving away from the trigger, but the gun kept being pressed against his body.

Big hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs pulling at the corners of your mouth and forcing them into a lousy smile as his reward. If you refuse to give him acknowledgment it will be taken by force. His laugh was being muffled by the fabric of the dark mask, the one that had blood all over a few weeks back.

That time you were the one under the influence of alcohol that bent your consciousness, this time you felt a whiff of alcohol in Vigilante’s breath. The thought of him having to take a shot or two to give him enough courage to actually step into your territory made you all giddy inside. Maybe the all-mighty Vigilante, the menace of Evergreen, is not as indestructible as he claimed to be.

“Just between you and me, I know you don’t want to lock me up for real-“

“But I do.” You quickly interrupted him. Don’t give in.

“No, you don’t. I can see it on your face. You’re enjoying it far too much just like I do.” Debatable. But he had a point. “I mean yeah, you are pointing a gun at me and shit, but you kissed me back that night. That means something!”

He threw his hands in the air and a cheery voice just completed his dramatic bravado. However, as much as you would like to deny it, you did in fact make out with him back in that alleyway instead of doing your job.

“Do you usually make out with police officers to shake them off your track?”

“Just with you.” His hands found their place on your waist and started to play with the belt loops. And you let him continue… What is wrong with you?

“Oh I’m flattered, how is it working out for you?” With a fake smile, you pressed the gun more into his chest.

“You tell me.” Vigilante strikes again with painful truth. Yes, you were pointing your gun at him, but he had you cornered in your living room, hands seductively rubbing your hips and you let him get away with yet another murder. Well done.

His mask got rolled up and you got a chance to admire his lips. Before you could say another snarky remark, Vigilante silenced you with an urgent kiss. It was his time to shine, to bite your lip, to shove his tongue in your mouth and tangle with yours. He gave you no time to think about anything else except him.

“You know how the saying goes: Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.” He hastily unbuttoned your work slacks, pulling the zipper down far too hard you were afraid for a moment he got it stuck. Even though you should have been more worried about the fact you just got your pants shown down your thighs.

“You consider me an enemy?” You sighed out and focused on his warm fingertips playing with the elastic of your underwear. Touches light, like his fingers were asking for permission. The lack of protests signalized a green light he was waiting for.

“Only if you shoot me.” A toothy grin plastered his face when you pressed the barrel of your gun sternly to his chin and tilted his head up. How could you pass on that opportunity to rile him up like this.

“If it means you’ll stay close to me I just might.” With those words his hand slipped past the hem of your panties, going straight for the kill and giving all the attention to your throbbing clit. He chuckled at your reaction, how you acted all tough and yet your body begged for his touch.

Your eyelids fluttered at the sudden contact, the precision he held in killing criminals clearly dominated other areas as well. Small and stern circles changed to slow and light flicks and back and all of it was accompanied by an intense gaze that searched for any kind of reaction.

You wonder what color his eyes are, that red visor was not flattering them in any way. Would he stare at you so shamelessly even without his mask or did it bring him a fake feeling of anonymity that pushed the boundaries of this escapade.

Vigilante bent down his head to the gun that lingered near his face. You could not believe your eyes for a second when he pressed a kiss to the tip of it before smirking. He’s practically begging for a bullet in his head with bullshit like this. He did not care he was basically being held at gunpoint. A decision was made to hide your gun back in the holster harness, for the safety of both parties involved.

Your hands sneaked up to his neck that was bared to you, nails lightly scraping along his prominent Adam’s apple. You soon found out it made him wild, because the second you touched his neck, two fingers were recklessly shoved inside you, forcing out a loud moan out of you.

Shameful whimpers started pouring out from your lips, wetness seeping into your completely ruined underwear. You had to ground yourself against the wall since your legs started buckling under you. The feeling of submission poured over weak body, something you weren’t used to. With an abrupt yank you pulled Vigilante’s lips onto yours to give yourself just a second of control. You will allow him to take you apart with his fingers, but you will control when a how much he will kiss you.

Twisted part of your mind craved the taste of his bloody lips on your tongue again. There was no doubt he wouldn’t tolerate you biting his lip again to make him bleed like the last time. Or would he? You did not dare.

A better option was to sneak your hands to the back of his neck. A bit of hair poking out from his bunched-up mask caught your attention. Now you knew he had brown hair. Add it to his dimples, surprisingly sweet laugh, bold demeanor and an idea of a person is born, suddenly so real. Especially when he was jackhammering his thick fingers right to your G spot.

You wanted more. You needed more. Fingers tried to slip under his mask with hopes he would not notice it when you were distracting him with your tongue in his mouth. This wasn’t fair towards him at all, he was making you feel so good and you were trying to pull his mask off.

If you knew how he looked like it would not be any trouble to find him and arrest him. That’s why you came to Evergreen voluntarily after all. If all of this was just a means to an end…

But Vigilante quickly realized what were you trying to do and caught your wrist before you could continue. “Seriously?” Annoyance seeped from his voice, grip on your wrist so tight to the point it almost hurt. But your wide eyes that stared at him like deer caught in headlights made him soften his hold.

“At least buy me a dinner before you try to pull my mask off.” He laughed it off, but pulled his fingers from your pussy and you whined at the loss.

He let go off your hand and let it drop to your body. Instead he pulled his fingers from your panties and inspected the arousal coating them before bringing them to his lips. The sight alone made you sigh.

“You taste so sweet. If only you treated me so sweetly too.” Fingers popped from his mouth, covered in spit instead of your wetness. Oh, you’re fucked.

“Lose these.” You playfully tugged on his tactical belt.

“So demanding. Very sexy of you.”

The suit had quite a complicated mechanism and rather than losing his pants he just popped the button open to free his cock, hard and leaking precum. Hot and ready to go.

His gaze lingered on you as you pulled your pants and underwear down your legs. Breath got caught in his throat at the sight of your skin. A blank canvas for him to paint.

In an instant he lunged back at you, hooking hands under your knees to raise you up and making you hook your legs around his waist. Heat radiating from his body to your core was such a lovely contrast to the cold pieces of his suit that pressed against you throughout the evening.

“Are we really about to do this?” You were breathless, sandwiched between a wall and Vigilante leaning over you.

“Only if you want to.” So genuine. A man with no boundaries asking for consent, it surprised you more than it should have. “I do.”

“Baller”

Head of his cock swiped over your clit roughly. That bastard was teasing you more and more and enjoyed every second of it. His lips parted in awe, eyes were glued down to watch the pretty sight. You became something more than a police officer going after him or prey for him to take, but God forbid if he ever admitted that to you or even himself.

“I hate you.” Voice was shaking with anticipation and so was your body. A quick chaste kiss washed away the hate you felt even if it was just for a second, then he slid into you in one clean glide until your pelvises were flush against each other.

You both moaned out into each other’s open mouths. Someone would say it was just a noise of shameful lust. For you? A nasty symphony that set off something inside, the same type of addiction that controlled the man in front of you.

“If you sound so heavenly when you hate someone I’m really curious how you sound when you love someone.” He licked his lips and bucked his hips up to force another sweet mewl out.

“Go to hell” You knew it did not sound convincing and that fucker saw right through you. Because if you truly hated Vigilante so badly he wouldn’t be balls deep inside you, stretching you out with burning pleasure. With another vain chuckle, he started snapping his hips into you with urgency.

Vigilante filled you in the best and the worst way possible. Relieving the thirst your body was screaming with as well as putting a patch over the deep hole of anger and frustration he had been digging in your heart since you met him for the first time.

There was nothing gentle or graceful about what happened. Messy, desperate, vicious, and addictive is what it was.

You tightly hold onto him with arms around his neck, clinging like a koala.

If only your squad saw you like this. You have been boasting and promising how you’re gonna be the one to catch Vigilante. And here you were, it seemed he caught you more likely. Driving his cock into you in the dimness of your living room like it was his usual nightly activity.

Truth be told, he kept fucking with you all this time to make you mad, but never in a million years you would have guessed he will be fucking with you for real.

The strong grip he had on your thighs loosened with every hard thrust. Legs were slowly but surely slipping from his waist to the floor. All his power was concentrated on snapping hips and harsh kisses until nothing was left for his arms to hold you up, yet he refused to let go of you. Gnarly bruises were forming where his fingertips dug into the soft skin of your thighs, making this meeting even more bitter-sweet.

“You can be so good when you want to be,” You barely whispered it against his lips between your combined moans “You’re so good for me. Such a good boy-“

“Fuck I’m gonna cum! Fuuck!” His whine was long and high-pitched, you wanted to hear more of it, but he muffled his cries with a bite on your neck. Normally you would not allow him to bite you, there could always be an exception, and this was one of them.

Especially when he got into a sprint to the finish line, he found hidden strength to bounce you on his cock as much as this lousy position allowed him.

His pelvis was hitting your pulsating clit so gloriously, wet slaps filling your ears, moans and whimpers digging deep into your memory, there was no way you could hold on.

And you did not. Fireworks exploded behind closed eyelids, tingly heat spread from your core to the very tips of your toes, ecstasy consumed every fiber of your being.

Too busy floating on cloud nine to notice Vigilante clenching his teeth around the skin of your neck, creating another vulgar bruise. Too busy to register a loud groan he let out with one last thrust. Too busy to notice ropes of cum coating your spasming walls, filling you to the brim.

His hold no longer supported you when he leaned all his weight on you, chest rising and falling against yours with every deep breath. Being too sensitive to pull out he nestled inside you, basking in the warmth of your cunt.

“You know… You almost got me that one time. After that burglary in the liquor shop,” He murmured against your neck, pressing apologetic kisses to the spot he had bitten. “And I’ve been thinking about it tonight-”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to tell you! Don’t interrupt me, dude.” Did he just call you ‘dude’?

“I wanted to say that I realized if I’ll keep fucking you until you can’t walk, you have no chance of catching me.” He pulled away from the crook of your neck and genuinely smiled at your dazzled face.

“Bold of you to assume I’m letting you inside my house ever again. I will remember to close that window next time.” At this point, you started to struggle to keep your head calm.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know about the spare key in the flowerpot in front of your house.” That motherfucker. Now you have to relocate the key somewhere else.

“Sounds like a threat.”

“More like a promise.”

He pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants without a second thought. You watched with open mouth as he gathered ruined panties and pants while you leaned against the wall with weak legs. He acted so nicely, it made your heart melt. Just a little.

All of this almost made you feel bad for your intentions. You were there to throw him in front of a court and move on to the big league, but Vigilante just enjoyed your presence, your interest, albeit the wrong kind.

“Don’t pretend you hate me,” He handed you clothes and booped your nose with the tip of his pointer. With one last pretty smile, he pulled the mask over his face and made his way to your front door. “See ya later, loser!”

He just left you standing there with his cum running down your legs like it was nothing. Like he didn't just give you the best orgasm you had in a while. Oh God, What have you gotten yourself into…

#vigilante x reader #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #adrian chase #peacemaker #vigilante smut #adrian chase smut

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 2 months

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Moxxie Redesign! (2/4)

You didn’t think I forgot about this did you? ‘,:/

I wanted to base Moxxie off of what his name actually implies, having nerve and determination. Ive almost entirely changed his personality in certain ways. He is still an assassin but he takes his job very seriously and struggles with his inner morals because of this. Being berated by Blitz often leads to him pushing aside his concerns with his job and causing internal conflict instead that he typically only ever talks to these issues about Millie. She is trying to get him to consider therapy but he doesn’t want to lose his “sparkle” (he gives in eventually and goes and it goes fine, this would be around season 2 but definitely after episode 6)

Moxxie also doubles as a medic for any potential injuries at I.M.P (this happens often). Moxxie was also born in greed so he has the more aquatic qualities of a greed imp such as the little headlamp, frills, and gills. And for any fish nerds, yes I know only female angler fish have headlamps, thats the point. Viv has literally no main trans characters so I guess I have to do everything myself. Plus I’m tired of the super straight shit that happened a few years back, Millie isn’t any less straight for dating a trans man. I think Moxxie certainly struggles with his masculinity and also takes his job so seriously as a way to prove to himself that he’s meeting some sort of “masculinity criteria” however he’s fully aware of how silly the mindset is (hes working on it). I think som trans imps may definitely paint their horns like Moxxie, but with certain days I really doubt he gives much of a shit considering it probably gets chipped a lot anyway.

Moxxie still hates his upbringing and the greed ring leaves a sour taste in his mouth, however he prefers to use his knowledge and features from greed in his work. For example, preforming minor surgery under his headlight, it’s goofy as hell and I think any show benefits from some extent of stupid silliness like that. It’s also good for distractions!

Moxxie isn’t always super serious like in this art either, he’s still a bit stupid but still respects himself. Tough nut to crack because of his past but is very kind underneath somewhere.

Heres some notes I went off while working!

- glasses (REQUIRED. Give him those stupid little circle spectacles)

- Get rid of the stupid suit

- Maybe some interesting horn stuff?

- Make him look a bit more like his voice, not sure how to describe this

- Write a boyloser properly

- Probably doubles as a medic? I think he’d be interested in medicine with all that errrm akshully energy he has

- Make him actually look like an adult (I tried)

- More of a fishy tail

- Born in wrath but both parents are greed imps so he has those features + moved back when he was like 6 idk

- Or idk maybe imps change the longer theyre in a certain ring? Could be fun

I have a lot more I could talk about with this guy but I’ll save it for some other posts :3

#helluva boss #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva moxxie #moxxie helluva boss #helluva boss moxxie #moxxie #helluva boss rework #helluva boss rewrite #helluva boss redesign #helluva rework #helluva rewrite #helluva redesign #my art

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taurasiluvr · 3 months

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how you can help palestine

★ req. "neeeeeeddd enemies with benefits pt 2 maybe like when you’re playing against mercury and a player from mercury starts getting into it w the reader, and since the reader is the princess she doesn’t talk back but the player keeps going at her so dt kinda like say something to the player to make them stop and then the reader thanks dt in bed???????"

part one !

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. oral (r. giving), praise, fluffy otherwise.

the game against the Mercury was intense from the start. the rivalry between your team, the Las Vegas Aces, and the Phoenix Mercury was well-documented, and the tension was palpable on the court. diana was her usual fierce self, leading her team with the same determination that had always defined her. but tonight, there was an extra edge to her game, as if she had something to prove.

midway through the second quarter, sophie cunningham started getting into it with you, she was known for her fiery temper and trash talk, and tonight was no exception. every time you got the ball, she was there, in your face, throwing out insults and trying to get under your skin.

"what's the matter, princess? can't handle a little pressure?" sophie taunted as she bodied you up, her eyes gleaming with challenge.

you tried to ignore her, focusing on your game and keeping your composure. you had a reputation to maintain, after all. you were the "princess," the rising star who let her game do the talking. but sophie was not letting up.

"c'mon on, sweetheart, show me what you've got. or are you just gonna let us walk all over you?" she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.

you clenched your jaw, trying to block her out. but it was hard to ignore the constant barrage of taunts and the physicality of her play. every bump, every shove, was designed to throw you off your game - however, you knew that this was the big girl league and if you showed any sign of weakness you'd surely get clowned on.

during a timeout, you glanced over at diana. she was watching the exchange with a hard, unreadable expression. there was a slimmer of you that hoped she'd step in, call off sophie, but you knew better than to expect that. on the court, you were rivals. the secret connection you shared had no place here on the court.

as the game resumed, sophie was relentless. she knocked the ball out of your hands with a hard swipe, then got in your face again. "not so tough now, are you? just a pretty face with no game."

you felt your temper rising, but you forced yourself to stay calm. responding would only give her what she wanted. you took a deep breath, focusing on the game plan.

however, then sophie had to take it a step further. during a particularly aggressive play, she shoved you hard, sending you sprawling to the floor. the impact knocked the wind out of you, and you heard the crowd's collective gasp.

before you could get up, diana was there. she stepped between you and sophie, her eyes blazing with fury. "back off, sophie," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

sophie smirked, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "what's the matter, dee? protecting your little princess?"

diana didn't back down, her stance firm and commanding. "play the damn game, sophie. leave the cheap shots out of it, that's not how we play."

the referees stepped in, pulling sophie back and helping you to your feet. you brushed yourself off, trying to ignore the sting of embarrassment and the ache in your body. the crowd was still buzzing, the tension in the arena palpable.

diana turned to you, her eyes softening for just a moment. "you okay?"

you nodded, grateful for her intervention. "yeah, 'm fine."

"good," she said, her voice soft but firm. "now go show her what you've got, princess."

you laughed, giving diana a smile as you felt a surge of determination as you rejoined the game. sophie's taunts and the fall had shaken you, but diana's support had reignited your focus. you played harder, faster, channeling your frustration into every move.

the game became a blur of intense action, the crowd's energy fueling your every play. you and diana exchanged glances across the court, a silent understanding passing between you. the rivalry was still there, but so was the connection, the unspoken bond that had formed through shared moments of intensity.

as the final buzzer sounded, the Aces emerged victorious. you felt a wave of relief and triumph wash over you. the team celebrated, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears.

in the post-game chaos, you caught diana's eye across the court. she gave you a small nod, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. it was a fleeting moment, but it spoke volumes.

⠀ ── ⠀

"thanks for stepping in, by the way." you glanced up at diana, a grateful smile tugging at your lips.

you were in her hotel room, relaxing after the game. diana had just got out the shower, her expression relaxed and her hair damp, loose around her shoulders. she wore a simple tank top and shorts, a stark contrast to her fierce on-court persona.

diana shrugged, sitting down next to you on the bed. "don't mention it," she said, her voice casual but with an undercurrent of sincerity. "couldn't let sophie get away with that. only i can give you a hard time, princess, you know that."

you laughed, shaking your head at her words but as she joined you a few moments later. however, you could see the sincerity in her words as she gazed at you.

you leaned back against the headboard, feeling the tension of the game slowly melt away. "still, it meant a lot. she was really getting under my skin."

diana smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "well, you handled it well. besides, couldn't let her ruin my fun for later."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "always thinking ahead, huh?"

"always," she replied, her gaze softening as she looked at you. there was a moment of comfortable silence, the air between you charged with a mixture of unspoken words and mutual understanding.

"did you see the title articles from after, princess?" diana chuckled as she shook her head. "kept calling me soft and shit."

you shrugged. "i mean, you did step in to protect me. kinda goes against your badass image."

diana rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. "yeah, well, couldn't let sophie get away with that. besides," she added, her tone becoming more serious, "nobody messes with you on my watch."

you felt a warmth spread through you at her words. "thanks, dee. i really appreciate it. but you know, you didn't have to, i could've handled it."

"i know you could've," she replied, her eyes locking onto yours. "but i wanted to. there's a difference."

you smiled, touched by her words. the rivalry and competitive spirit were still there, but moments like this reminded you that there was something more beneath the surface. "well, i guess i'll have to return the favor next time."

diana's smirk widened. "or... you could return the favor now," she teased as her hands began rubbing up and down your thigh.

you felt your breath hitch at the touch, feeling your face flush as you looked up at diana. her eyes were dark with desire, a mischievous glint in them. the air between you crackled with anticipation.

you leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, slow and deliberate at first, then deepening as the need between you grew. diana responded eagerly, her hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer.

you rolled over, taking the lead, your hands exploring her curves, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch. diana moaned softly, her fingers tangling in your hair as you trailed kisses down her neck, savoring the taste of her.

"you're so beautiful," you whispered against her skin, feeling her shiver in response.

"and you're driving me crazy, princess," she murmured back, her voice filled with longing.

you smiled against her collarbone, the intensity of the moment consuming you. you wanted to give her everything, to show her that despite the rivalry, despite the public personas, there was a deep connection between you.

your hands moved with purpose, stripping away the barriers between you, leaving nothing but skin and desire. diana's breaths came faster, her body arching into your touch, her need matching your own.

you took your time, savoring every moment, every touch, every sound she made. diana's control slipped away, her usual dominance giving way to the raw intensity of the moment - however, you knew she couldn't give all of it away.

her hands gripped your hair as you kissed on her stomach, her eyes watching you intently. you looked up at her through your lashes before sticking out your tongue slowly, licking a stripe through her underwear.

diana's breath hitched, her eyes darkening with a mix of desire and anticipation. she tugged at your hair, a silent command, and you obliged, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her underwear and sliding them down, your movements slow and deliberate.

you took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, laid bare before you, her usual fierce control slipping further with each passing second. she was beautiful, and knowing that you could affect her this way sent a thrill through you.

you leaned in, your lips brushing against her inner thigh, teasing her, drawing out the anticipation. diana's hips lifted slightly, seeking more, her need palpable.

"don't tease," she breathed, her voice husky and commanding.

you smiled against her skin. "who said 'm teasing?"

with that, you finally gave her what she wanted, your tongue flicking out to taste her, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. her pussy was wet beyond comprehension, her hand beginning to grip your hair even tighter. you moved with purpose, each stroke of your tongue deliberate, each touch designed to drive her wild like she had done with you on multiple other occasions.

diana's hands tightened in your hair, guiding you, her body responding to every movement, every sensation.

"oh yeah, that's my good girl," she moaned, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine, spurring you on.

you continued, your tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, building her up, bringing her closer to the edge. diana's control slipped further, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her hips moving against you, chasing the release she craved.

"oh fuck, don't stop, don't fucking stop," her head fell back as she moaned and you would never.

when she finally came, it was with a groan of pure pleasure, her body tensing, then shuddering with the force of it. you held her through it, your touch gentle, your kisses soft, until she collapsed back against the bed, spent and satisfied.

you moved up to lie beside her, pulling you into her arms, feeling the steady beat of her heart as it gradually slowed. diana looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and maybe something deeper.

"that was... incredible," she murmured, her voice soft and content.

you leaned up kissed her cheek, a sense of peace settling over you. "mhm, it was."

as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away. in this moment, there was no rivalry, no competition, just the two of you, connected in a way that went beyond words.

and for now, this was enough.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

#diana taurasi #wnba basketball #wnba smut #wnba x reader #wnba players #wnba draft #diana taurasi x you #diana taurasi headcanons #diana taurasi x reader #taurasiluvr writing #wlw #lesbian #wbb x reader #wbb smut #women's basketball

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wri0thesley · 1 year

Text

canicular - yandere kaveh x fem!reader x yandere alhaitham (6.8k)

it's a tough lesson to learn.

cw: yandere. mentions of past dub-con, non-con (non-explicit), physical punishment. abuse. reader is referred to by feminine pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

If there is one thing you are not short on, it is time.

Though Alhaitham provides what he thinks are stimulating ways to pass your existence, you do not often feel inclined to read the thick tomes of Sumeru history or ancient language studies that he leaves on the table for you. Nor do you have any inclination towards the other hobbies he has tried to get you to pick up, in order to keep your hands busy and your brain exercised - what desire have you to do a jigsaw puzzle or a book of word games when you feel like a caged tiger, pacing uselessly back and forth with no end in sight?

Kaveh, at least, tries to get you to occupy your long hours with things that are transporting. His own pencils and papers and paints (a sad smile on his face when he caresses your cheek and sighs and says ‘why don’t you try drawing where you would rather be?’). Alhaitham tries to improve you; to mould you into what he expects you to be and what he wants you to be and what he thinks you ought to be.

Kaveh, at least, sees you as something human, with human needs and human feelings and human wants. Wants that are not half an hour of cursory sunshine so you do not develop a Vitamin D deficiency, not a meal chosen entirely for nutritional properties and not how it might taste in your mouth (Alhaitham is not a cook - you always prefer Kaveh’s meals, though the Scribe clicks his tongue and says things about how there’s no health benefits to the nostalgic desserts that Kaveh tries to get Alhaitham to let him make for you).

Kaveh sees in you the human need for companionship and sympathy and something other than Alhaitham’s blank face when you rage at him and sob and pound on his chest and demand he let you go home. Something other than Alhaitham’s insistence that this is better for you; that he is a good master, that your life is simpler and more suitable now, that he is simply putting the world to rights by taking you as his-- his pet, his dog, his slave, his lover--

What are you truly, again? Other, of course, than his?

In lieu of being Alhaitham’s dog in need of training, when you can, you gravitate to the architect - who wouldn’t, when your other option is a man who watches you cry and replies only with: “And what are you hoping to gain from your tears, exactly?”? And Kaveh, in return, gives you his own sympathy and his sighs and a stroke of your hair that has no hidden meaning at all, you’re sure, but his desire to comfort.

If sometimes you let him take you, after all of the comfort - if you spread your legs for him and sigh and nose against his neck and murmur soft sweet appreciation - that is neither here nor there. You have such precious little opportunity to make decisions for yourself, so why should you not? You tell yourself fiercely, with your mouth wine-stained with Kaveh’s lips, that you would make the same decision were you not a prisoner. Kaveh is the kind of man you would have sought out for yourself, you decide. And he never takes advantage; never makes the first move, waits for your sniffles and hesitant kisses and shaking hand as it traces the elegant line of his collarbone.

But Kaveh is not always home. Kaveh goes into the desert, works for weeks on a project somewhere else in Sumeru wherever his architectural genius is summoned, and leaves you to the untender mercies of the man who caused all of the heartache in the first place.

Alhaitham is never later than ten minutes after work (and on those occasions, his normally calm face has a twitch of fury about it). He never forgets what time he has set your meals for, never forgives an order that has gone unfulfilled (and you have the marks over buttocks and thigh and back to prove that), never lets you answer back or skip out on one of his ordained rituals for your health. He is a constant; a knife that carves out your life, ever sharpened and ever ready.

You practically throw yourself at Kaveh when he returns, if you have been alone with Alhaitham too long. Bury your head in his neck and sigh about how you missed him the moment that you can get him alone, smile and thank him with earnest words when he produces some treasure he saw whilst he was out and about and gifts it to you (they are never lavish gifts; Kaveh does not have the Mora to spare. But a fresh Zaytun peach or a Sumeru Rose plucked from the wildest parts of your nation is a treasure to you nonetheless, when your life is a narrow square of home-and-garden you are not permitted to leave).

. . . It is easier to force yourself not to notice the way Kaveh’s golden eyes catch yours after the gift, as if he is waiting for and expecting the kiss that you press onto his lips as a thanks that never seems to end at just a kiss.

Kaveh’s comforts do not come often enough, in your opinion. Certainly their number does not match up to that of Alhaitham’s firm commands - his lips on yours, his hand on the top of your head forcing you to your knees, his insistent quizzing on the book he left for you today that you have not so much glanced at, his carefully marked schedules of when you should eat and when your period is due and all of the other minutiae of life you had never stopped too long to consider before.

In the past, you had not needed to dwell on these things. You had daydreamed some, of course, of some loving faceless significant other who might hand-feed you slices of Harra Fruit and write you poetry and curl against you until you felt like the two of you were one - but you had always had faith that this would come for you. Perhaps when you least expected it, a fanciful fairytale dropped from the sky into your waiting lap--

You had not reckoned on Alhaitham.

If nothing else, he has provided you with plenty of hours to daydream. An endless yawning, stretching chasm of a future that you try to fill with the paints Kaveh brings you, with constant machinations about an escape route. Sometimes when you imagine leaving, you are hand in hand with a blond man with a smile like a fresh flower blooming, feather haphazardly stuck in his hair, a promise to somehow find enough Mora to build a pretty little cottage in the middle of nowhere where one does not have to worry about stern silver-haired scholars.

You have the time.

Summer in Sumeru is difficult at the best of times. Under Alhaitham’s captivity (you never think of it as Alhaitham-and-Kaveh, so certain are you that the architect would free you if only Alhaitham were not in the picture), it is even worse. You can no longer open the door and stroll out into the Grand Bazaar, where the air is darker and cooler. You can no longer stop off at some merchant or another to buy a cool treat, take a dip in one of the lakes if you so feel like it - all you can do is try and find the shadiest spot in the locked house, lie upon your back and wish for a breeze or two.

“You shouldn’t stay there all day,” Alhaitham says, reproach evident in his voice, when he comes home at seven minutes past five in the afternoon like he always does. “Your muscles will atrophy.”

You sigh in response, long used to the fact that if you argue he will twist your words around until you’re sure of nothing - if you argue too much, you’ll lose some other privilege you hadn’t realised was a privilege until Alhaitham had taken it away.

(Once it had been hot water that you’d had removed, and Alhaitham had stood in the bathroom with you as cold water drenched your hair and your body and gooseflesh broke out along your skin, his face unmoving despite your nakedness. You know that he does, at least, hold some attraction to your naked form - the fact he had not let even a flicker of desire cross his face as you shivered and shuddered there was testament to his insistence you must learn your place. Actually, though, right now, you do not think a cold shower would be a punishment. It sounds rather nice, even if Alhaitham is there to watch you with calm inexpressive eyes.)

“It would be cruel,” you say instead, “to leave a dog in these conditions all day.”

He prefers this kind of reasoning; a debate, and not an argument. If you stay calm and even and you appeal to logic, you might have a chance of survival.

“There are some folding-fans in one of the drawers,” he says. “A present from one of the Inazuman clients Kaveh worked for, I think.”

“Surely they would just blow hot air back in my face?” You ask him. He considers for a moment, looking at you on the floor where you have not moved. You are in one of the loose robe-like garments you are permitted to wear around the house (far less chance of you trying to escape, Alhaitham reasons, if you feel indecent - he has not bargained on the fact that at this point you would run naked through Sumeru City if it means breaking out of his oppressive regime), thighs bare, neckline pulled as far apart as it can go so what little air there is can touch your sweat slicked skin.

“What would you prefer?” He asks, with a note of warning in his voice that most people would not pick up on. You must tread carefully.

“Leave the window open a crack,” you suggest. “Not enough for me to get out. Just . . . enough for a breeze. So that I don’t feel the air around me is pushing down on me until I suffocate.”

“Hyperbole,” he says. “You cannot suffocate on air.”

You bite your tongue. The request shimmers in the air for a few moments, a tangible thing - Alhaitham weighs up the pros and the cons.

“No,” he says, and the thread of hope you hadn’t realised you were holding snaps. “Not whilst I’m out. Not whilst nobody is here to watch you.”

Any response you might have made dies on your lips as a key clatters in the door and it opens, a long-limbed elegant body tumbling through in record time. Kaveh always enters like this; as if he is afraid that if he takes longer than a moment, shouts will rise up around Sumeru City and mock him and his secret will be splashed across every noticeboard in town. Kaveh pretends he does not live here, because he is an important man who should be doing better. You pretend you do not live there because you are still holding your own home in your heart - your own garden of flowers and fruits, your own shelf of books and your own hobbies and things strewn across surfaces.

Alhaitham does not pretend; he merely avoids speaking to anyone about his home life. You had been as surprised as him when Kaveh had unlocked his door and walked in to see what the thumping and muffled noises emanating from Alhaitham’s room were, and had come across you. Alhaitham had not mentioned a roommate to you even before your captivity, and Alhaitham had not mentioned a pet human to Kaveh at any point in time or given any indication this was the kind of thing he would do.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kaveh had said, immediately upon seeing you, crouching down next to you, his hand hovering by the gag wedged into your mouth. “I . . . did Alhaitham do this to you?”

You’d nodded tearfully, and Kaveh’s eyebrows had knitted into sympathy. You recognised him only vaguely, but you did at least see the emotions flittering across his handsome, open face - so much more than you’d ever gotten from Alhaitham. Even when he’d unceremoniously locked you in his bedroom and you’d screamed yourself hoarse into a gag and rubbed your wrists sore on the rope, Alhaitham had done nothing more than raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“I’m going to take the gag away,” Kaveh had said to you, at the time. “Please don’t scream.”

He had been so earnest in the request, and you had been so grateful to see somebody who was not Alhaitham and was clearly properly horrified by your predicament and was not treating it like it was perfectly normal, that you had nodded. Calm, clever fingers had worked beneath the wedge of cotton in your mouth and pried it spit-slicked from between your lips.

“Can you speak?” He’d asked, and when you’d tried and you had not managed to get out more than a wheeze he had fetched you a glass of water and held it to your parched lips.

“I can’t untie you,” he’d said, helplessly, his gold eyes flitting to where the ropes had rubbed you raw. “Alhaitham would be . . . unhappy with me. But maybe I could try and loosen them? Move them higher up, so I can take care of the blood?”

You had thought that he must be some other prisoner of Alhaitham’s, back then. As he’d given you more sips of water and you’d hiccuped and grated out some of the story that had lead you here, and he’d nodded and made soft little noises of horror and understanding, as he’d cleaned the wounds and commiserate with you over what a brute Alhaitham was, even to him, the Scribe’s senior. He’d knuckled your bruises away so gently that you’d cried more, and admitted to him that you feared you would never feel a tender touch again.

“You poor thing,” Kaveh had repeated, looking at you with those pools of molten gold. “Don’t worry. You and I are comrades in arms. We’ll take care of one another as best we can.”

You know now that Kaveh’s predicament is not quite the same as yours - partly based on Kaveh’s own stubbornness and pride, instead of the unmoving unrelenting coldness of Alhaitham instead. But that first night, he firmly positioned himself as an ally. Had argued with Alhaitham when the Scribe had come back about how he could not gag you, could not tie you so tightly, could not leave you waterless and foodless in his bedroom all day. A knight in shining armour, you had thought - and the first thing you had done when your bonds were finally loosened was wrap your arms about the surprised blond and thank him.

“Anyone would have done the same,” he’d said, as you’d sobbed into his shoulder and Alhaitham had watched, lip curled at the corner, face unreadable. “Anyone with a heart.”

He’d held the embrace just a little too long.

“You’re home,” you say to Kaveh, back in the present, and you smile at him, a trembling, wavering thing. Sweat is beading on your brow. The brief rush of cool air that Kaveh lets in is a welcome change, and Alhaitham sighs as he walks towards the window. You notice which drawer he goes into - the tiny key that he produces from one of Kaveh’s many cubby-holes on the architect’s desk. Amongst rulers and tiny screwdrivers and silver-flashing scissors. Alhaitham allows the window to open the smallest crack - the one that looks out only into the garden, so nobody passing by might hear voices they do not expect coming from a house they know belongs to Alhaitham.

“I am,” he says, with a smile. “I brought you a present.”

“You’re spoiling her,” Alhaitham says mildly, as you turn your head to Kaveh. You hear the drawer click; another key turn. It is never so simple as ‘get a key from a drawer’. Alhaitham is not so foolish. “What has she done to deserve a present?”

“You don’t have to do things,” Kaveh argues. “It’s nice to have nice things!” You see now that he is holding a small bowl, the kind that the food stalls give out with food bought to travel with - he walks towards you with a smile on his face and holds it out. Inside of the little pale brown half-moon of a bowl are three scoops of some kind of frozen treat, and your mouth waters. You finally move from your spot on the floor to reach out for it.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Alhaitham says sharply, before your hands can close around it. “Or I’ll have it myself. No doubt he paid for it on my tab.”

Kaveh glares at him from under his pale brows but does not argue - you, with your throat dry and hot, babble out thanks to Kaveh and reach out again. Alhaitham clicks his tongue once more.

“Wait,” he tells you, command in his voice. “You’re not even going to ask me if you can have it?”

“Alhaitham--”

“She has to learn,” his voice is final, a rough lightning strike through the room, a man who has never wavered in his convictions. “A disobedient animal is no better than a wild one.”

“Please,” you say to Alhaitham, sensing that arguments are brewing, that tension is crackling. “Please may I have it.”

Green eyes catch yours and leave you hanging desperately and wordlessly for a moment. You dare not move. You wonder if he’s going to bring up you asking about the window, and use that as an excuse - or perhaps what a waste you’ve made of the day, how you should have made yourself move from the cool floorboards like you’re supposed to. You cannot breathe.

Alhaitham gives a wordless nod as he turns on his heel.

“I’m going to get out of my work clothes,” he says. “Have a cold shower. Make sure you behave, and we’ll go into the garden at dusk when it’s cooler.”

Shoulders untense. Kaveh smiles at you and holds out the bowl again. Your mouth waters as you reach for it - you barely notice that Kaveh does not relinquish the hold of his long fingers upon it until you’ve kissed him on the cheek and let him kiss you softly on the mouth in return. It does not seem important.

His own mouth tastes like the dessert, too. He did not have to wait to be brought it by some kind, sympathetic soul. He could have had as many servings as he liked.

You savour every spoonful.

You know your way around the house. You have earnt freedoms to be allowed to wander it at will - if you want to, you can go into the kitchen and fetch yourself something to eat (Alhaitham encourages that, in fact - as long as it is that you’re eating one of his approved foods). You can choose from the many tomes that line the walls, can sit in the living room or the study or on Alhaitham’s desk chair if that’s where you wish to be.

You cannot leave, of course.

Golden locks mock you wherever you look; some intricate, some simple, but none with a key you possess. You’ve seen Alhaitham with two keys to the front door - a cruel joke, when you are not even permitted one. The keys to the windows, to Alhaitham’s desk itself, to all of the drawers and the places you are not allowed to look sit side by side on Alhaitham’s keyring like sentinels guarding you from freedom.

You think about the open window, when Alhaitham cracks it just a little when he comes home. Stand by it and try and get some breeze; strain to hear the voices that are very far away, wondering what’s going on in the life you have abandoned like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Has the mould you had been battling with, beneath your own bedroom window, finally beaten you? The spider that dwells in your darkest bathroom corner started a family? Has post piled up on your doormat - letters that will go unanswered for who knows how long?

You have only one hiding place. One loose floorboard, in the very corner of Alhaitham’s room - Kaveh doesn’t go in there often, or you’re certain the architect would have noticed it. You keep some trinkets in there - a dried flower Kaveh had once put in your hair, a necklace he had given you made of cheap beads that he’d bought from some do-gooder selling them for charity.

(Alhaitham had seen you wearing it and pursed his lip; later on that night, when he’d taken you into the shower to wash your hair, he had unclipped it and dropped it into the wastepaper bin.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he’d said. “It will just break and the beads will scatter everywhere. There’s no reason to be giving you any presents right now.”

Whilst you’re sure he meant all of those things too, there’d been something else running through the current of his words; I don’t want you to wear anything that I don’t pick out for you. You’re mine, and if anyone were to collar you . . . it would be me.)

And, your greatest treasures of all - loose Mora, left about the house by Alhaitham and Kaveh. Alhaitham is always complaining about Kaveh dusting and tidying and moving money and not telling him where it has gone - sighing over Kaveh not paying enough attention to things. The idea that you would take it does not cross his mind. He doesn’t know about your hiding spot, so in his mind you’d have nowhere to keep it--

But, too, there is this.

You stay in his home all day, a mostly well-behaved prisoner. He provides you with nutrition and food and clothes. He provides you with attention (whether you want it or not). You have nowhere to go, nothing to buy, and not a single reason to have even a coin to yourself. What would you do with Mora?

It is one of the places his rationality fails him.

In both small and large denominations, you have more than enough Mora to make it to Liyue, Mondstadt, and far away from Sumeru stashed away on a boat to the island nation of Inazuma, where even Alhaitham (you’re certain) could not drag you from your new life.

Kaveh is the one who gives you the opening, in the end. He and Alhaitham have an argument in the early morning - from your position wrapped in Alhaitham’s sheet, you half-listen. It’s about you. It often is. Kaveh is trying to argue with Alhaitham about how he should be allowed to take you out with him into the garden in the morning, that the one half-hour of sunlight is not enough and perhaps you and Kaveh could even cultivate a little flower-patch out there, to give you something to do--

It’s a well-worn argument, one that Alhaitham always wins. Kaveh is not responsible enough to be in sole charge of you outside, Alhaitham says. He spoils you too much. You smile into your pillow as you imagine that little cottage once more, of tending to a garden with Kaveh--

Kaveh slams the door on the way out. Alhaitham comes back to you to rouse you from bed, sighing over Kaveh, scolding you for not getting up yourself - he, too, is distracted by the argument, and that distraction does not ease. He is working from home today, he tells you, so the window can be cracked all day.

At seven in the evening, the window has still not been closed, and Alhaitham has pulled you onto his lap to read with you perched there. At eight in the evening, Alhaitham grits his teeth that Kaveh hasn’t come back yet and tells you he is going to the tavern to drag his ungrateful roommate home--

And he leaves with the window still cracked.

At quarter past eight, Kaveh is dragged into the room smelling of wine and Alhaitham follows him in, sullen as ever. He still does not notice the cracked open window, as he drags Kaveh into the bathroom and commands him to brush his teeth, to splash himself with cold water and pull himself together.

The window has not been seen to. The drawer that he had put the window key back into remains unlocked.

When Alhaitham returns to the main room, you pretend to be worried over him. You ask if there’s anything you can do, framing it as a kind of shaking fear the Scribe may take out his frustrations on you, and you let Alhaitham take you into his bedroom to work off the stress.

You stare into the empty space behind his shoulder while he’s inside of you and think about slipping through the open window and out into the world again.

The next morning, Alhaitham chances a gaze at the window and nods to himself when he sees it - for all intents and purposes, locked. You’d shimmied the frame up painstakingly slowly last night when you’d murmured about needing the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t remember. He’d grumbled in his sleep but had not protested.

He leaves the same time he always does - Kaveh, slumped in his own bedroom from the hangover, stays where he is.

And you hold the unlocked window like a secret flame in the candle of your heart.

You still do not dare do anything until an hour after Alhaitham has left, terrified that he will return and you will be punished horribly for daring to think escape would be possible. But as time ticks on, and the sun rises higher in the sky, you begin to convince yourself that this is all going to be fine.

You go into the living room and to the window. It leads out into the garden, but that is fine; you can scale a fence. That is no difficult task after everything else you’ve been through. You test it, wiggling it open just a crack, and a light breeze hits your heated face as excitement begins to rise in your bones.

Back into Alhaitham’s rooms to go beneath the floorboards and take your little pouch of Mora, heavy in your hand as you tie it with cord around your waist. You do not have a bag, and your flimsy robe has no pockets - but those are things to be thought of later. Perhaps you will take some well-worn dress from a washing line, where it dries in the wind. Perhaps you can spare a few coins for something that does not show off the ample curves of your body so much. You can allow yourself, now, to think of those things.

Content, you open the window wider. You let yourself linger there in front of the window for longer, fresh air on your face and the promise of escape playing a siren’s melody. This time tomorrow, you will be free.

You look towards Kaveh’s bedroom and smile.

So will he.

All of those dreams you’ve had can be made reality; you will both find yourself out from beneath Alhaitham’s thumb with a future stretching ahead of you, together. You can repay Kaveh for his kindness - can sometimes be the one to bring him a gift of flowers or fruits or a beautiful leaf on the ground. You can walk hand in hand with him and this will be but a distant memory.

You rap softly on his door.

“Kaveh?” You call into the crack of the hinge. “Are you awake?”

Kaveh mumbles your name. Stirring from within his room, as he moves about it, a murmured response that he’ll be out as soon as he’s decent - you can barely wait. Unrestrained tension fizzes through all of your veins, excitement and pleasure and anticipation. You let yourself imagine him boosting you out of the window, both of you laughing as you tumble onto the grass beneath the windowsill--

His door opens and he stands there, dark shadows beneath his eyes and his hair more ruffled than usual but the kind smile that you have grown so fond of firmly on his face.

“I have something to show you,” you tell him, tugging his arm. “Come on, come with me!”

“Is it a new painting?” He asks, mildly, letting himself be dragged along with that smile still on his face. “Ah, have you found another lovely tale in one of those books you want to read to me? I do adore you, you know--”

You pull him into the living room and, with a bright, optimistic look on your face, motion to the wide-open window where the wispy white curtains are fluttering in the breeze.

Kaveh does not speak for a time.

He swallows.

You can see his thoughts racing behind his eyes and you mistake them for fear; trepidation of a life with nothing. But that’s alright; you have made provisions for such things!

You jingle the Mora, as those sharp golden eyes move from you to the window and back again.

You give him a hopeful smile, all bright eyes and idealism that you’ve always thought he’d share with you. Freedom calls; a life away from Alhaitham. “We can leave,” you say. “We can go out through the window! A whole future, Kaveh, together--!”

Kaveh is still not smiling back at you.

“I--I’ve thought of everything,” you say, falling over your words as Kaveh does not immediately fall upon your open escape route. “We can go to Inazuma, I have enough Mora, we can put as much distance between us as possible and you . . . architects are needed everywhere, we might have to sleep rough a while and I know you’re not that used to it and it might seem scary but we could get a little cottage together and a g-garden and . . .”

You tail off as Kaveh’s gaze stays trained on you, pitying, sympathetic. He should be delighted. He should be pleased. He’s looking at you the way that Alhaitham looks at him, when Kaveh gets started on one of his talks about how everyone in the world is good at their core. You have always agreed with him - mostly.

(“Present company excluded,” Kaveh had said once, waving a hand, wine glass in his grasp, at Alhaitham. You had laughed, and Alhaitham had made you bend over his knee and spanked you hard upon your rear ten times as Kaveh silently watched).

“Stay calm,” Kaveh says softly. “Step away from the window, darling. Let’s talk about this instead.”

Dawning comprehension settles about you like the hot summer air.

It seems a foolish thing not to have realised before all of this - you suppose, in Kaveh’s sweet soft smiles and cooing gentle voice and his whirlwind way of coming and going, you have never stopped to think about it. Your voice comes out dry as old paper.

“You’ve had a key the whole time.”

“I live here,” he says. “Surely you realised I’d have to let myself in and out--”

“You could have let me go any time.” Your tone is flat. Kaveh looks at you, anguished, and a thousand thoughts flit into your mind - a thousand times he could have just unlocked the door and held your hand and the two of you could have walked out of the house and you could have walked right out of Alhaitham’s grasp. Instead, he had given you fruits and trinkets like you were supposed to be grateful and taken the reward of your gratitude in hungry kisses and the press of his body upon yours--

“No, darling,” he’s trying to soothe you. “I couldn’t have - you know what Alhaitham has over me, you know that he could ruin my life - I’m just as much a prisoner as you, really--”

The earnestness in his voice could almost make you forgive him. It has, in the past - when he’s knitted his brow and said of course he can’t let you out of the cage, but he’ll make it up to you when Alhaitham lets you out. You’ve written off things like that before.

No longer. Not with the window fully open, not with escape beckoning you.

“Then leave with me,” you repeat, shaking. “Come out of the window. We’ll get out of Sumeru, we’ll go somewhere nobody even cares about the Akademiya, somewhere he won’t reach--”

The bag full of stolen Mora tied about your waist feels heavy, jingling on your hip. Your throat is dry. The robe you are permitted to wear suddenly feels all the flimsier, all the more embarrassing to be seen in, full thighs on display and the curve of your chest far too revealed.

“Don’t,” he says, softly, moving towards you. He places his hands up, palms facing you, like soothing a wild animal likely to flee. “You know that wouldn’t work. You know he’d find you.”

(You, he says. Not ‘us’.)

“Kaveh!” Dreams of that little cottage and a little life slip through your fingers like grains of sand. “Don’t-- don’t you care about me? Do you want me to die here?”

“Of course I do.” He’s closer now. Your shoulders shake, lip trembling. He reaches out for you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Of course I don’t. We take good care of you. Better care than you might have gotten, before. Have I ever hurt you?”

You want to scream. You’re hurting me now!

“Alhaitham has,” you whisper. “And you . . . you’ve never stopped him.”

You’re crying, you realise, as Kaveh’s face turns into concern and he wipes a tear away.

“I can’t,” he says, with a soft little sigh like he is the injured party. “If he threw me out . . .”

“You don’t want to leave.” You try to keep your voice flat, but it cracks on the ‘want’. You want, you want, you want - and from Kaveh’s kisses, from his murmurs and his gifts and his indulgence of ‘draw the place you wish you could be’, you had always thought that he wanted too.

“I have a reputation,” he replies, steadfast. “My architecture, my name, all of the things I worked hard on--”

He doesn’t say anything about your achievements. He’d smiled at your little drawings and said how talented you were, he’d sighed over how pretty you were and how much of an inspiration you were, looked at you with such warmth in his eyes as he’d listened to you talk about your dreams and all of those little romantic fantasies you kept cherished in your heart and had thought that, perhaps, he would understand--

But now? He says nothing. As if you do not exist outside of this prison.

He thinks himself far more important than you.

“I just want some freedom,” you whisper, your face wet, your throat dry, your body feeling pulled in all ways at once. You had never envisioned that Kaveh would be like this - in all of your daydreams, he had gone willingly with you. You chide yourself now, for your own foolish romanticism - but you cannot let go of nights spent in this house with only Kaveh for comfort. “I just want a life.”

“We take care of you,” Kaveh says in a voice that sounds like a beg. “Alhaitham’s right, you’d never have lasted alone out there--”

“I was d-doing just fine.” Tears clog up your throat like ice.

“Were you?” He asks, quietly. His hand on your face feels like a brand, as he rubs his thumb over your lip and sighs, as he pulls back with a strand of your hair twirled around his finger. “Darling. The world chews up and spits out people like us, sometimes. I just want you to be safe--”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say to him, trying to be strong and failing miserably with every tremulous syllable. “We’re nothing alike, Kaveh. I would have been out of this window the moment it was opened, if we were in one another’s shoes.”

“No,” he says, and his voice is still disgustingly tender. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d see that you’re too fragile, too romantic and too lovely and too idealistic to survive for much longer. You’d see that this is the best option for you.”

“Alhaitham says you’re an idealist,” you whisper bitterly. “A romanticist. Just like me.”

Kaveh sighs.

“This could have been you,” you continue, stubbornly, bitterly, wildly grasping for something to say that could hurt even a fraction of how your heart has shattered. “In another world, you’d be where I am, and you wouldn’t be saying those things to yourself--”

Kaveh looks at you and seems to understand a kind word will not fix this; a stroke of your hair, a hidden treat. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head, instead.

“I’m going to close the window.”

You don’t reply. You stand like a statue, silent, as Kaveh walks to the window, reaches for the frame to pull it back up into position. Your future trickles out of your fingers like sand through an hourglass. The cottage is reduced to rubble by lightning storms, the flower garden does not grow, and the blond man beside you in your dreams becomes as grasping and hungry and monstrous as any nightmare has ever been.

The door clicks open once again. A voice calls out;

“I forgot to bring anything for lunch,”

And then Alhaitham walks in.

His eyes quickly take in the scene before him - you, and Kaveh, and the window that has not yet been closed.

“You forgot to close it last night,” Kaveh says, without turning around. “She wants me to leave with her.”

“And so? What will you do now, Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s voice is clipped. The question hovers in mid-air. Kaveh lets out a huff of breath through his nose, and for one horrible, glorious moment you think he is about to break and come back to your side--

“Close the window,” Kaveh replies instead. “Lock it.”

You stare at Alhaitham - as the Scribe’s lips press together and curve, in a satisfied smile. You wonder if the shattering of your heart is an audible thing, or if it simply sounds that loud in your head. The window lock clicks with a finality that makes you want to throw up.

“Good,” he says. And then he turns his attention back to you, as Kaveh moves across the room to stand just to one side of him. Kaveh’s golden eyes are apologetic - but it is not enough. Your heart has been pulled out of you and trampled upon and there is no coming back from this - no number of peaches or soft kisses or reassurances whispered into your hair that will make you ever think of him as a reprieve.

Perhaps he’s worse. At least Alhaitham does not try and hide behind anything.

You have no friends here. Just two men who, in the end, want the same thing from you.

“You understand I’m going to have to punish you?” Alhaitham asks, and his tone is reassuring in its sharpness. “Trying to run . . . when all I’m doing is giving you the best life you could possibly get?”

“I understand,” you say, exhausted. Kaveh tilts his head to one side and puts on the face that you now know is a mask; concern and worry and pity. You see your future laid bare before you like one of Kaveh’s blueprints. The summer heat seems a visible thing once more - or perhaps that’s your own anger, coalescing, at the fact Kaveh has the nerve to look compassionate.

Later on that evening, when the welts on the back of your thighs sting and you’ve been divested of even the flimsiest garment, when Alhaitham has retired to bed with his door wide open and you curl on the thin blanket of the cage that Alhaitham only uses for the very worst infractions, you slip into fitful nightmares of keys clicking in locks and lion keychains and golden-eyed masks that only lie. The summer night is no cooler. You wake up in the early morning light, golden shafts with dust motes dancing, and you see that in the night the architect has brought you a peace offering.

A small bowl sits beside the cage. The bars are just wide enough for you to reach a hand out (how many nights, in the past, has Kaveh curled his littlest finger around yours whilst you sobbed over the indignity of it?). You could take the spoon sticking out of the bowl and bring mouthfuls of the frozen dessert to your lips, letting it soften and thaw on your tongue, savouring the refreshing coldness of the treat.

You do not.

Instead, you simply sit there, caged, and you watch it melt into liquid drop by drop by drop.

#writing #commissioned work #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #dub con cw #non con cw #yandere cw

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stuckinapril · 1 year

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Something you've learned this year?

Never force connection. Probably the biggest lesson I’ve learned this year. This doesn’t mean leaving it to the other person to make all the moves, but if something isn’t clicking after you’ve tried to make it click more than once, it’s probably time to let it go. Doesn’t matter what the reasons are—if it’s not working, it’s not working.

Don’t be anxious about something twice. If you don’t have actual proof as to the existence of a problem, you’re better off giving it the benefit of the doubt until you’re absolutely proven otherwise.

Your worth does not shift with other people’s opinions of you. The biggest act of resistance against that mentality is continuing to take care of & love yourself even if other people might perceive you unfavorably at times.

The scarcity mindset is bs. There are 8 billion people out there and just as many opportunities to take on. There’s always something out there if one pursuit doesn’t work out.

Piggybacking off that point: rejection is redirection. Better switch gears than waste time on a relationship / opportunity / just whatever wasn’t meant for you.

There’s a difference between being the first option and just being the available one. Someone’s attention doesn’t automatically mean they’re actually into you—sometimes you’re just right there & they have nothing better to do.

Striving for romance isn’t bad, but it should never be the goal. It’s definitely a nice thing to experience, but tbh the one cliche I’ve learned to be true over and over again is that self love does really eclipse all else. Obsessing over somebody else 24/7 isn’t as cute as the books make it seem to be.

Being an excessive people pleaser does not make people like you more. It just makes them like the advantages that come with befriending someone who has no boundaries.

Cry it out. Write about it. Take some deep breaths. Then make that tough decision. Allow yourself to process something before you act on it. There are some situations that really do prove to be time sensitive, but 9/10 times it probably would’ve served you more to just think it over first.

You can provide for yourself what you wish another person would’ve provided for you. Buy yourself flowers; write yourself a love letter that you could look back on in ten years; take yourself on a luxurious date. While it’s undeniably nice to have these gestures made for you by someone else, ultimately they hold no less weight coming from you to yourself.

Work on your composure in stressful situations. Emotional suppression is never great, but being unable to control your reaction under pressure can be disastrous if not curtailed. (To that end, be able to put on a good poker face when need be.)

Pick and choose who you put time into. Being capable of giving is crucial, but it doesn’t amount to much if you can’t determine early on who’s worth giving to and who isn’t. Neither our energy nor our time is infinite; they have to be used wisely.

#and many more but these were the major ones for this year <3 #ask

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nightswatchdisbandmentera · 7 months

Text

I really don’t think we should be treating morality as a linear thing in ASOIAF because what often happens is that we start to stray from the actual conversations that we need to be having regarding the depths of making a moral choice and even the circumstances involved. To try and blankly paint any one character as the “most morally good” isn’t really taking us anywhere. And it certainly isn’t helpful when people in this fandom want to try and prove that characters are “grey” but not moral (what does that even mean??) because they did one “bad” thing. If ASOIAF stans were to have their way, then:

Jon is not a morally good person because he threatened Gilly

Dany cannot be considered to be compassionate because she sanctioned torture against the wine seller’s daughters

Arya cant be good because she has killed people

and so on, and so on….

But this is such a draining, and oft times frustrating, conversation to have because you see just how shallow the above listed examples are? Readers are listing only singular instances across a narrative that spans thousand and thousands of pages, and there’s absolutely no context involved. Why did Jon threaten Gilly? Why did Dany resort to torture and at one point did she do it? Who did Arya kill and why? And why do those singular instances negate everything else in their arcs?

What usually happens when we have the 12847647282th unnecessary conversation about who is the “most good” character in ASOIAF is that we start getting blanket statements with no elaboration. And the only people ever considered are Ned, Brienne, and Davos, and sometimes the children like Shireen or Tommen. Mind you, Ned and Davos are not perfect or without their own faults either; much has been said about Ned’s abilities as a father and it’s implied that Davos was not entirely faithful to his wife. And based on her current arc, Brienne will surely have to make morally tough choices regarding oaths and knightly honor. Plus theres the irony of including literal children when they have not been put in situations where they actually have to make morally difficult choices and live with the consequences.

ASOIAF shows us that people who are capable of incredible kindness and compassion are also capable of doing unpleasant things.

Jon threatened Gilly….because he was trying to save another child whom he believed to be at risk of human sacrifice(!!) and was stuck between a rock and a hard place. But why does that singular instance negate the fact that his arc has been about him standing up for the “lesser than”? Why does that negate the fact that he stood up for Sam against a superior when there was nothing to gain for him? Why does it negate the fact that he went out of his way to equip Arya in a way that society would have deemed inappropriate? Why does it negate the fact that he dedicated the entirety of his time as Lord Commander to fight an institution that had upheld racism/xenophobia for millennia? Why should we filter out all those moments of kindness, compassion, and deep empathy that Jon has even without him thinking?

Dany sanctioned torture….but she was trying to solve the murder of an innocent victim AND this brought her no joy. But why does that negate the fact that when she gained unimaginable power, she could’ve high tailed to Westeros to use it to her benefit and become queen, but instead chose to stay in Essos where she has no personal responsibility just so she could fight the institutional evil that is slavery? Why does it negate Dany who went to personally treat plague victims at great risk to herself?

Arya has killed some….but it’s in self defense or in defense of others who are disenfranchised. But why does this negate that she is one of the few people in the series how goes out of her way to show kindness and friendship to those who are not as economically or politically advantaged as she is (e.g., Mycah)? Why does it negate that she took fellow slaves under her protection when she herself had little power to fight for her own survival at Harrenhall? Why does it negate that when she saw those caged soldiers whom she was angry with for their actions, instead of leaving them to die instead offered them the only kindness she could at the moment: a drink of water?

Trying to have arguments about morality but stripping everything down to ‘x character did y bad thing (regardless of context) and that’s why they can’t be good’ is, to be blunt, ridiculous. And it isn’t a particularly interesting way to engage with the text. Character journeys, especially well written ones, are rarely ever in a straight line. There’s amazing highs and terrible lows. GRRM gives us so many characters like Jon, Dany, Arya, Sansa, Ned, etc. who even in their lows, have gleams of compassion and exceptional kindness. It doesn’t do anyone any good to filter those moments out to make the books more digestible; and I’m being a little generous here, because so many readers have a very shallow level of engagement with the series and it shows in conversation. And we also shouldn’t pit these characters unfairly against those who have never been in similarly difficult situations that required them to make hard choices. Because when we do, we start to completely miss the point all together.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #yeah this came out of a particular thread on Reddit and I was just like….🫠 those people can’t be serious fjsnsnssjsb #trying to argue that jon is not a good person because he *checks notes* slept with ygritte and broke his nw vows #yeah let’s crucify a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD for not conforming to absolutely ridiculous norms that have absolutely no bearing to his true purpose #asoiaf stans when a literal child isn’t happy about dumb rules set by a penal colony that’s akin to indentured servitude:#surprised pikachu face #and the audacity to say garlan Tyrell is a better person that Jon or Dany or arya #what books are yall reading????#what has he ever done that’s remotely comparable to these people that proves he is the height of honor or selflessness??#nothing #we know literally nothing about this guy I’m-#tagging #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #arya stark #because it’s relevant in context

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oddverse · 4 months

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If there’s one thing about Pesci Prosciutto could never figure out, it’s the idea of why. Specifically, why does he dress like that?

Prosciutto’s many years as a gangster told him that to be feared, you have to look scary. To be dangerous, you have to look dangerous. That’s why he kept himself so clean all the time. What, with his well manicured, tied back blond hair, fashionable suit, and dangling gold necklace of course. He learned he had to be like this, because no one takes you seriously if you look stupid.

With the rest of his gang, it seems they learned this too. Everyone looked sharp and deadly, like a set of knives. Ghiaccio dressed very literal to the name, Melone’s style is more seductive and tempting, Risotto has his strength and eyes to do the job, hell, even Illuso and Formaggio had their styles show their danger.

But here comes Pesci! In his self-made self-botched Mohawk, old fur coat he must have worn for years, and in a heart covered jumpsuit. What is this, yoga hour? He should be on the treadmill, not on a mission!

Doesn’t he know you have to dress like this for a reason? Seriously, it’s like he doesn’t even want to try and look dangerous! He doesn’t dress to benefit his strong frame, he doesn’t dress to represent his precise stand, he doesn’t even dress to at LEAST look menacing!

Prosciutto knows Pesci is strong. He knows that he could lift a stone column like a bar of lumber. He knows he can snatch the cork off a one bottle in one piece. But he doesn’t dress like he can and as a result, the rest of the team bullies him for it! He looks weak, so they view him like he’s weak!

You dress to demonstrate you’re tough. Prosciutto thought every man in Italy knew this by now. He was SURE his father should have taught him this lesson by now. I mean, hell, prosciutto didn’t even HAVE one and he learned this. So why does he dress like that? What is he hiding? IS he hiding anything?

Your clothes are for other people so they can’t see your insides. If your insides are weak, you dress like you’re strong. If your insides are strong, you dress like you’re strong. You dress strong no matter what. You have to. Good dressings are strength. Strength is respect. And if you do not play the part, you are kicked out of the show.

IM SORRY for the wait on a reply ive just been hoarding this message all to myself trying to come up with a good response. Ive probably reread it a dozen times because its such a vivid description, and i just know Prosciutto HATES that jumpsuit. (Aside from the designer coat Pros insisted upon) He cant even look at it for long because he'll just give himself a headache trying to figure out the enigma that is Pesci. Take Risotto for example, its extreme but it sends a message, he should be trying to accomplish that!

Prosciutto wants to see the razor wire that Pesci is hiding. He knows its naivete, or just obliviousness to the precariousness that hes found himself in, Prosciutto knows Pesci thinks there will be an escape, an opportunity to leave this life far far behind, he knows thats why he wont/cant kill, hed be stuck then, the point of no return, Prosciutto also knows thats not going to be a very sustainable belief for long. Pesci has already proved to be worth the trouble however, like you said "Prosciutto knows Pesci is strong." and knowing the long road ahead of his subordinate maybe he can afford to show a little mercy in his fashion choices too.

i also know melone loves that jumpsuit

#PROSCIUTTO CARES ABOUT THIS MAN #that is his only friend in the whole world #his confidant- his champion #Pesci will be a killer one day- Pros got suits sized and ready for the occasion he will be so proud #prosciutto #jojos bizarre adventure #propesci #pesci #VIRGIN KILLER JUMPSUIT Melone insisted

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katuschka · 3 months

Text

Miss Lucifer – Part One

Jake Kiszka x Lilith (f!OC) x Josh Kiszka

3000+ words

What happens in Berlin, stays in Berlin…but sometimes the outcome of the most whimsical ideas can alter the course of your whole life. Sometimes, you need to be shown the end of the road to be able to take it.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, masturbation, allusions to violence, whiplash, emotional whiplash, otherwise not much yet, BUT let me warn you in advance – Part Two is going to be intense – oral and penetrative sex, fingering, substance abuse, kidnapping (of sorts), hallucinations, manipulation, dark forces etc. (full list tomorrow)

Taglist

Part Two

Inhale…exhale…inhale…exha...ouch! Fuck!

There are certain very various benefits to the use of yoga…none of which you’ll be able to experience when both the body and the mind simply protest against your conscious efforts to feel better.

God knows Josh consciously tried, but this was no use. Nineteen rounds of Khatu Pranam completed, and he still felt like shit. The original goal for today was twenty five repetitions, but now he feared that continuing with this might actually make it all worse. The strained muscle was just the tip of the iceberg. His whole body, weakened by the lack of sleep and a nauseating hangover, was held hostage by that nagging, guttural feeling which he just couldn’t fully comprehend, no matter how hard he tried. That outward grumpiness that even transformed into an unfortunate fit of rage yesterday, was caused by an underlying anxiety that was griping at his guts lately. That much he understood, even though the others didn’t. The question was why he was feeling on edge all of the sudden. Everything was fine! Nothing had changed, right? Well, seemingly…

So, with the final huff, Josh returned back to the Vajrasana position and tried to stretch the stiff neck one more time. However, as soon as he tilted the head to the side, the sharp, stabbing pain in his upper trapezius made his face twist in discomfort. What started as a simple case of a strained muscle developed into some sort of psychosomatic ache that felt like a pinched nerve, even though their physiotherapist said it was fine. Oh the irony, and a truly hilarious cosmic retribution for striking Jake’s nerve…

At least the guitar survived, otherwise he probably wouldn’t.

It had been a long time since they last let the shit escalate like that instead of just telling each other to fuck off. He was fast enough to duck when the blow came, so thankfully, he wouldn’t sport a black eye on Wednesday. Perhaps too fast, though, jerking his head to the side with such abruptness that eventually left him with aching muscles and a throbbing headache. Add it to that underlying unease that caused all this mess, and he suddenly understood why the rockstars of yore often resorted to demolishing their hotel rooms.

Touring was both uplifting and stressful, but usually, the positive aspects of the whole experience prevailed. And when things got tough, they always had one another. Not this time. They were no longer teenagers with just one goal in mind. Things had changed. The fleet had been splitting.

Ever since they landed in the Netherlands a few days ago, Josh just couldn’t shake off this unreasonable irritation that made him jump down everyone’s throat, and even though yesterday’s show was a success, the trip as a whole was slowly turning into a shitshow. Jake’s bad temper mirrored his own, and neither of them cared to ask what was wrong. The tension between the two of them proved to be contagious, bad mood eventually spreading like plague in the confines of their bus.

They checked in the hotel just a few hours ago, arriving relatively late as they had decided to spend the night in Landgraaf to fight off all the remaining effects of jetlag. Not that it helped much, because no one slept after the show. At least it gave them sufficient excuse to spend most of the ride in their bunks.

They all left the bus in silence this afternoon and went their separate ways into their separate rooms, leaving what started as a petty feud pretty much unresolved. Now it threatened to turn into a real problem, like a festering pus pocket underneath what looked like a minor blister. What next…

He tried to make sense of it all, but this train of thoughts only made his head spin. Still kneeling on the floor, with his forehead pressed against the exercise mat and his arms outstretched, Josh let out a heavy sigh, feeling the tears welling behind his closed eyelids. He recognized the feeling. It had been years since he had his last panic attack, but it was unmistakable. Whimpering, he smashed his fist down on the floor, trying to fight it. He had been looking forward to this leg of the tour, really. There was absolutely no rational reason for him to feel this way…or to behave the way he had, which meant like a jerk, basically.

Irrational reasons shouldn’t get overlooked, but he didn't feel fit enough – both mentally and physically – to psychoanalyze them right now. Right now, he just wanted …no. Needed to numb himself down a bit. Again. As the exercise didn’t help, he’d better just get wasted. Again. Yeah.

So, a time for some tea, perhaps? With whisky, of course. Or, better yet, whisky with tea. Honestly, the tea was just a fragrant cosmetic enhancement to make the whole process of getting shitfaced seem more sophisticated. Also, it’s important to stay hydrated. But who was he kidding? He’d drink cheap rum right from the bottle if he had to, even though he hated that shit. Anything that would make both the pain and the restlessness go away would be good, and tomorrow’s hangover be damned, just like today’s. If only someone just poured it down his throat so that he wouldn’t have to move a muscle. Oh yeah, laziness should be added to the long list of “what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you”. It was debilitating.

It was the growing darkness that finally forced him to move, booze or no booze. He had laid the mat down during golden hour, with the sun illuminating the hotel room floor with muted orange light, creating a much needed illusion of peace that however lasted for only a short while. As the evening progressed, the room was getting increasingly darker minute by minute. Another orb was now illuminating the walls, still bright and powerful, as it had been a full moon just two days ago. Its silvery gleam felt a bit oppressive at the moment. Not really helping much. He couldn’t stand it, to be honest. So, grunting in effort, he finally got up from the mat and dragged his sore body towards the minibar to check on the supply, switching on the armchair light on his way. It instantly filled the room with a mercifully pleasant warm glow.

The minibar proved to be a rockstar’s dream, and amply stocked with tequila, too. However, Josh’s mind was somehow already set on whisky this evening and there were a few shots of Tullamore Dew in that magic mini fridge. He had never tried that one before, so to hell with tea. Smacking his lips in anticipation, he unscrewed one of the mini bottles and emptied its content down his throat, while trying not to tilt his head too much in fear of another spasm of pain.

The effect was immediate, as Josh hadn’t eaten much during the day. Low appetite was obviously another one of the symptoms of his crankinesiosis. Right now, he was in fact thankful for it, with the heat quickly spreading through his chest. He could even feel it tingling in his groin area, which gave him some new ideas on how to spend the rest of the evening. He took two more bottles from the fridge, nestled down in the armchair and helped himself to a second shot. It quickly gave him a bit more intense buzz. With it came a brand new wave of emotions, though. A melancholic yearning for something seemingly unattainable was probably the most prominent one. You’re hopeless, Joshua Michael. Just hopeless. Quickly, think of something more agreeable.

A threesome. As soon as the vision appeared behind his closed eyelids, invisible hands started stroking his bare torso, making his head spin in a pleasant way. Two imaginary fingertips pinched his nipple while another hand traveled down his stomach, making his abs tighten in anticipation. Without even knowing how that particular idea entered his brain, he quickly started palming himself through his yoga pants in a desperate attempt to chase the feeling. Yes, this was it, and he got rock hard in seconds. Pulling the waistband down, he started stroking himself in earnest, twisting his wrist in an excruciatingly slow motion every time he reached the already leaking head. He needed this to be intense, but he also needed it to last for a while. The vision didn’t, though, as he got distracted by a loud, shattering noise coming from the other side of the wall. Jake’s room. After that, he was once again left all by himself.

Opening his eyes, he noticed for the first time that the large mirror which was propped against one of the walls was in fact facing the armchair, ergo him. What a sight. He was a handsome guy, he had to admit. Modest when sober, but exhibiting a healthy amount of self-love everytime he fed his head. Preferably through the senses.

He wondered briefly what would happen if he just took his phone and recorded this. A king of the bitches, holding his big and shiny scepter. Parted lips and shuddering exhales. His heavy eyelids, partially covering the dark and shiny windows into his already inebriated mind. What a giant fuck off to everyone who ever mocked him it would be. A permanent ban from Instagram too, but not before he’d cause a tumult. The idea made him chuckle. Of course he wouldn’t do it – to Sam and Daniel – but a man can dream. He’d love to see Jake’s reaction…

His daydreams about turning into a real enfant terrible were suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone assaulting his door. He tried to ignore the first cannonade of knocks. Whoever it was and whatever they wanted, Josh was sure it could wait until tomorrow. Can’t a man jerk off in peace? A few seconds passed in tense silence. Tilting his head back, Josh started stroking himself again when the pounding noises resumed, making his heart jump.

“Open the door, asshole!”

Jake… Well, so much for a little, healthy dose of solitude. Tucking himself back in his pants, he slowly got up to let his brother in.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered, his hand still clutching a door handle. That confused Jake for a second, making him look over Josh’s shoulder to see if he had company, but the room was empty. “Talking to yourself again? So nice of you to keep thinking about me while…doing whatever you were doing.”

Nostrils flaring, Josh didn’t try to conceal he was not amused. “Yeah, be sure that me, myself and I are absolutely not happy to see you. What do you want, Jake?”

“I’m bored.”

“Cool. What makes you think I care?” Josh asked, while taking notice of Jake’s current attire. Rugged but fancy.

Truth be told, so was Josh. Bored, that is…and then some. That simple word could serve as an oversimplified explanation of what was really going on. Jake was just the first one to realize that. The next step was to realize what might have been wrong with his brother. Their trips overseas used to be filled with almost childish excitement back at those times when everything was new… the four of them exploring new horizons and learning new things. Together, they witnessed their lives changing abruptly, and living through it all. That was no longer true. No longer boys, they were somehow on their own now, getting emancipated, and more and more sticking to a routine of their “established” career. Josh secretly hated that. He needed people, just like he needed new impulses. And he cared about what others need too, one of his biggest fears being that others would no longer need him…

“I don’t want you to care, I want you to go out with me,” Jake retorted, still feigning indifference. Without any further explanation, he just moved past Josh, who was still standing in the doorway, and beelined straight to Josh’s minibar. He either did not notice or chose to ignore the telling bulge in Josh’s pants, which was merciful, given the circumstances.

Jake did notice. He just paid it no mind since he did the same thing just fifteen minutes ago, while his own mind was trying to fight off the vivid and intrusive (and – let’s be honest here – satisfying) images of him throwing his twin out of the window. Jerking off was simply the first thing he tried when he needed to clear his head and release some tension, so it was pretty understandable that Josh resorted to the same self-treatment. Imagining killing each other was acceptable. Dicks were indeed magical instruments, with their own cognitive functions. Are you happy? Well, just choke the chicken and make yourself feel even better. Are you tense? Sad? You know the drill…

Except it didn’t work this time. He successfully emptied his balls and it felt really good for a few seconds, but things remained broken and his own mind was still reeling, just like Josh’s. Still both angry and distracted, he accidentally knocked down a whole tray with heavy whisky tumblers, almost cutting his left hand in the process. That’s why he finally decided to bite the bullet and come here. With a plan.

He poured himself a drink while Josh unscrewed the third whisky, sat on the corner of his bed, and gestured for Jake to get on with it, whatever it was. Jake took a deep breath, then sighed, took a sip, and finally started talking.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight. I’m sorry for yesterday. I totally understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Your concerns. I’ve been asking that question myself.” Josh just kept watching him, as the realization hit. He didn’t have to ask what question, a mere look was enough. At first his breath hitched, but he could feel the knot in his chest loosening just a second later. Jake’s sole presence and that silent communication between them was enough to clear the fog in his head. Fucking twinning. If only they weren’t so stubborn. Jake answered anyway: “Where do we go from here.”

The next album was almost finished, new lore already forged and a new path just set. But even though it was all done and ready to be presented to the world – or maybe because it was done and ready – it somehow belonged in the past, not the future. They had already moved past it, they just weren’t sure where they were heading.

Josh nodded in understanding. “You’ve changed.”

“Well, so have you. And that’s cool. I mean, we’re bound to…but it just feels that we’re approaching a fork in the road and I think it scares me. I don’t want us to move separate ways. At least not just yet, and definitely not because of some stupid disagreements that could be repaired easily if we just tried. Maybe it will become inevitable one day, but I think we still have a lot to say. Together. See, I lied. I do want you to care. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I guess we both know that some things probably need to change. Let’s just go and find out what it is.” With that, Jake exhaled explosively as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. In a way, it felt exactly like that. At last, he could take a breath…

They remained silent for a minute, Josh now lying on his back with his legs still dangling from the bed, Jake still standing by the minibar, watching Josh examine the blank ceiling. Jake knew Josh was just thinking about what he had just said, so he waited patiently.

“So, where do you wanna go?” Josh asked finally, still immersed in studying the intricacies of bland white coating above him. He wasn’t ignoring what Jake just said. They both knew he acknowledged it, and this was his way to tell Jake he too was willing to do something about it. A small black spot right above his head suddenly moved, which threw the switch for his train of thoughts momentarily. Was it a fly or a tiny spider? He couldn’t tell in this lightning…How come they don’t fall? If he were high, he’d probably laugh, but intoxication didn’t work that way. It just made him realize that it was about time to stop being a prick. He closed his eyes just to refocus, then looked at his brother, indicating that he had his full attention at last. It was a cue for Jake to answer.

“I don’t know. Just… somewhere. Night life beckons,” he said, rubbing his chin, which indicated there was more more on his mind.

Josh wasn’t entirely sure that getting wasted together was the right thing to do right now, as it didn’t work yesterday, or the day before, but he succumbed to the idea. If nothing else, agreeing to Jake’s whim would be his own peace offering gesture, albeit weak. “Ok,” Josh sighed. “Lemme call Richard...”

“Don’t. Let’s go alone. Just the two of us.”

Josh sat up abruptly, eyeing Jake in disbelief: “Now? And in Berlin? Are you out of your mind?”

“Exactly. In Berlin. Why not? We’ve been here before, but we haven’t seen much. Let’s just experience some different aspects of the city…or this country. The Dark series version of it, maybe, I don’t know. Raw emotions, mystery, real human history…that includes queer history,” he paused dramatically, which made Josh roll his eyes. “It’s all there,” he gestured towards whatever was there outside the window, then continued: “ We’ve been here many times before, in fact, and all we’ve got to know so far are just some Oktoberfest gimmicks…and we already know that from home. No wonder we feel stuck. This is just one example of many, but let’s start here and now. I mean, let’s experience something new. Let’s get uncomfortable. This is a perfect opportunity.”

Josh just shrugged. His mood had already improved enough to be able to have a normal conversation, but not yet enough to agree to this. “I’ve enjoyed the Oktoberfest version so far. Jugs of beer… huuuuge boobs…I like feeling comfortable.” He chuckled when Jake gave him his oh really look. To demonstrate his point even further, he raised his hands up and wiggled his fingers, as if trying to squeeze a pair of imaginary boobs, while rolling his eyes like a madman. “Jiggling. Pillowy. I like that.”

“Yeah, whatever…so are we going? I promise we’re gonna find a decent pair of comfortable soft tits for you to knead so that I can finally indulge in some real, adult shit.”

Josh lay down again, shaking his head in disbelief, which only made Jake roll his eyes in annoyance. “C’mon Josh, that’s exactly it! I’m sick of this chickenshit. We’re grown men, for fuck’s sake.” When Josh didn’t respond, Jake put his glass back on the tray with a clang and gruffled: “Fine, I’m going by myself.”

“Jake, wait!” Josh scrambled from the bed in an attempt to stop his brother from leaving without him. He sighed, resigned: “Just give me ten minutes, tops.”

Thirty minutes later, they finally left Josh’s room and were off to the bowels of the city.

Part Two

@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr @kiszkas-canvas @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf

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feminismisstillahatemovement · 8 months

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WASHINGTON, DC — A devastating new report revealed that despite massive layoffs, thousands of journalists still remain gainfully employed.

"It's a tough pill to swallow," said researcher Stan Morgan as he announced the study's results. "Even after multiple rounds of layoffs at the Los Angeles Times, the Washington Post, and many other newspapers, it's only been a drop in the bucket. Tragically, even today, thousands of journalists have not yet been laid off."

Reports have conclusively proved the immense benefits of firing journalists, leaving researchers puzzled as to why more outlets aren't following the sterling example of the Los Angeles Times.

"We applaud the efforts of the L.A. Times and the Post to address the stain on our nation," said Morgan. "If only more newspapers would follow suit, millions of Americans could live more happy, productive lives. We must all do our part to never, ever read what journalists write. It's up to all of us."

As of publishing time, thousands of journalists had acquired new jobs at Dunkin' Donuts, where they reportedly spent their days harassing customers for not ordering black coffee.

#babylon bee

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jpmarvel90 · 1 year

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We're not your family anymore

Masterlist Nat Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader

Summary: Y/n is accused of killing Shield agents as is being held in power dampening cuffs despite her pleas that she is innocent.

Word Count: 4421

Y/N POV:

I had been a part of the Avengers for a little over a year now. Tony had taken me in after they saved me from a Hydra base. For 7 years I had been held captive, tortured and experimented on. Their “special” serum causing me to develop powers which Tony believed would be a benefit to the team.

At the beginning the team were sceptical of me and it took me a few months to be able to fully gain their trust and prove that I wasn’t a Hydra double agent. But eventually one by one I built great relationships with them all. Especially Natasha who, for the last 4 months, I’ve been dating.

It’s been amazing and I never thought I would feel happiness again like I do. With Nat I feel safe and loved and, although it’s still early, I’m sure that she is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Between Nat and Wanda, my best friend, they helped me be able to control my powers of telekinesis and control of the elements. Within no time I was able to use my powers effectively on missions that I was sent on.

Today I was being sent on a mission with the support of two SHEILD agents. Agents Patterson and Holbrook. I was packing my bag when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and smelt the familiar scent of gorgeous girlfriend.

“When do you leave?” Nat asked whilst planting soft kisses between my shoulder blades. “As soon as I’m packed, the Quinjet is waiting for me.” I turned in her arms so I was facing her and kissed her forehead. She hummed gently as she pulled me in to a tight hug whilst resting her head on my chest.

I loved this, although Nat has this tough exterior, she was never anything but loving and caring to me. Don’t get me wrong I know that she would kick my ass if she needed to, but it meant so much to me that she felt safe to be vulnerable around me.

As much as it pained me, I pulled away and looked into her piercing green eyes. “Be careful and come back to me.” She said, moving her hands to me waist. I gently placed my hands of her face and pulled her in to a soft yet passionate kiss. “I love you” I said into the kiss. “I love you too” she smiled, then grabbed my bag in one hand and pulled me towards the door with the other.

I boarded the Quinjet with one last loving kiss from girlfriend and was greeted by the two agents I’d be working with. I hadn’t met either of them before but Fury had sent them with me so I trusted his judgement.

The journey was quiet, we went over the mission brief to confirm our roles and settled in for the 4-hour journey to our location. Our mission was simple, download all of the information we could get from the Hydra base and get out. Steve was on comms back at the compound and was on standby if anything went wrong.

The mission started off smoothly, the three of us were able to get into the base with little resistant from the Hydra agents. Something felt wrong, I knew this mission was meant to be simple, but this was too easy. I pushed this uneasy feeling down and carried on until we reached the data room. Whilst Patterson and Holbrook provided cover, I plugged in the USB and began downloading all the information.

“Y/N I need an update, we’ve just lost the cameras!” Steve stated over comms. Shit I thought. This wasn’t going to be good. “We’re in the Data lab, just transferring the data now. Steve, something doesn’t feel right, we got in here too easily, we need…….” I suddenly felt a burning pain in my side, I turned to see Agent Patterson smirking as he pulled his knife out of my side.

“You didn’t think Hydra would let you get away with deserting us for the Avengers did you?” Now Agent Holbrook was stood over me as I fell to the floor. I tried to stand up and fight, but I was met by a swift fist to my jaw from Patterson. “Steve…” I called trying to active my comms. “It’s no use Y/L/N, he can’t hear you anymore.” My eyes became heavy and before I could even start to work out a plan I feel into unconsciousness.

Time skip

I started to wake, squinting my eyes as I adjusted to the bright lights. I sat up and lifted my hand to my face, only to notice I was in cuffs. The panic quickly pulled me out of hazy state. I sat up and hissed at the pain in my side. But that was the least of my concerns right now, I recognised this place. I was in the cells back at the Avengers compound.

What’s going on, I manage to pull myself to my feet to stand and make my way to the edge of the cell. I feel weak, these cuffs are blocking my powers and I know the longer I’m in them the worse this is going to get.

Whilst I’m in my confused state Steve approaches my cell. “Why did you do it Y/N? Why did you kill them? We trusted you!” Kill who, what is he on about? He looks angry, I’ve not seen Steve look like this since I first join. “Steve, what are you talking about? I didn’t kill anybody!” I tried to stay calm as I could not wanting to aggravate him more. “Don’t play dumb Y/N, Patterson and Holbrook, they’re dead you killed them. For a year you’ve been working with us, became friends with us for what, just to betray us!”

Oh god, did I kill them? “Steve, please you have to believe me, they were part of Hydra, Patterson stabbed me in punishment for joining you. I passed out and they were still alive, I swear!” I was getting more desperate now. But things just got worse as I saw Nat stood in the corner of the room observing me. I no longer saw the love in her eyes. She looked betrayed.

She stepped forward into the light. I could feel the warm tears start to fall down my face. “Y/N, there is no point in lying anymore. For a year you’ve hidden who you really were, you got close to each of us. Did I mean nothing to you?! You’ve betrayed us!” She shouted the last statements. “Nat, please I love you, I didn’t do this, please you have to believe me! You saved me, I was lost and broken but you gave me a chance to do good and have a family.” I was nearly sobbing by now. How could she not believe me? “We’re not your family anymore.” She almost whispered and with that her and Steve turned their back on me and left.

How could this happen, how could they not believe me or even give me a chance to explain everything? I slid to the floor and brough my knees to my chest as I sobbed. Everything was falling apart and the people I cared about most had given up on me.

I had no idea how long I had been in this cell now, it must have been at least a week. I was weaker than ever. The cuffs had shut off my powers and it was slowly killing me. With no way to use my powers, the serum Hydra had injected me with was poisoning my blood.

No one had come to see me and I had no chance to try and put my case across again. An unknown agent would come down with my food twice a day, but I had no appetite anymore. I had no desire to carry on when the people I love had given up on me. I just sat in the corner of my cell waiting for the inevitable to happen.

A few days passed and I could barely keep myself conscious anymore. I was finding it harder to tell what was real and what I was hallucinating. I knew it was only a matter of hours until I succumbed to my permanent slumber. I was ready now. I just wanted to shut my eyes and for all of this to end. The pain I felt at losing the only family I ever had was too much, I had nothing to hold on for anymore.

I spent this time trying to remember the happy moments in my life. My first date with Nat, the first time I could control my powers with Wanda, and the team movies nights where everything just felt normal. With that I felt a pain in my heart, knowing that they no longer saw me as family. Nat’s love had disappeared, and I was the enemy to them now, an inconvenience for all them all. I was ending my life how I had started it, alone. Silent tears fell down my cheeks and I fell into unconsciousness.

Nat’s POV:

“Just let me go and see her! She’s my best friend. Let me read her mind and we can find out the truth!” Wanda was pacing around the common room whilst begging me to go and see Y/N for the 3rd time today. “Wanda, you know you’re not allowed down there. Fury is right, we don’t know what she’s capable of, we can’t be sure what you would see would even be the truth.” I was getting frustrated now. I was tired of having the same argument over again. “That’s bullshit and you know it Nat. Y/N never even worked for Hydra, she was held captive, hell I did more damage against you guys than she ever has! Please just let her explain.”

“No Wanda, she lied to us for a whole year!” I yelled. I couldn’t understand how she was still trying to defend Y/N. “If she was a double agent don’t you think she would have been trying to do more damage than just kill two random agents? How many opportunities did she have to kill one of us?! I thought you of all people would have given her a chance to talk, to let her explain!” This angered me, Y/N had lied to me, made me fall in love with her for it all to be fake. But that last comment hit me harder than I thought. I did just walk away, for a moment when I stood in her cell I thought I saw fear in Y/N’s eyes. But she was with Hydra for 7 years, she easily would have been able to manipulate us.

I was hurt, I really love Y/N. I had felt so comfortable when I was with her. She had never judged my past and supported me through my nightmares and when missions went wrong. She never hesitated to drop everything if I needed her. She was my everything even though we had only been together for 4 months. This betrayal hurt more than I could have imagined.

Before I got lost in my thoughts Steve walked in and broke my trance. “We’ve managed to get the camera footage from the Hydra base.” I took a shaky breath as I followed Steve and Wanda to the meeting room. I don’t think I’m prepared to watch the love of my life take those agents’ lives.

Third person POV:

The whole team sat around the table as Tony started to play the footage. Tension filled the room as the truth started to unfold.

Y/N, Agent Patterson and Holbrook entered the Data room and Y/N runs straight to the main computer to start downloading the data. After a few minutes Y/N responded to Steve’s comms update “We’re in the Data lab, just transferring the data now. Steve, something doesn’t feel right, we got in here too easily, we need…….” And in that moment Agent Patterson sunk a blade into Y/N’s stomach.

“You didn’t think Hydra would let you get away with deserting us for the Avengers did you?” Patterson snarled to Y/N as she fell to the floor. Y/N tried to stand up and fight, but she was met by a swift fist to her jaw knocking her back on the floor. Y/N called out “Steve…” before Agent Holbrook snarked. “It’s no use Y/L/N, he can’t hear you anymore.”

A gasp filled the meeting room. Nat looked over and locked eyes with Steve, guilt evident across both of their faces. But there was still one question unanswered, what happened to the two agents?

As Y/N collapsed to the floor, another man walked into the room and addressed Patterson and Holbrook. “You’ve done well, but your mission is not over.” As he spoke he raised his weapon and shot both of the agents. Holbrook dropped to the floor dead whilst Patterson tried to steady himself. “B-but why?!” Patterson asked as he gripped the wound in his stomach. “Killing Y/N is an easy way out for her. She deserves to suffer for all she has done against Hydra. I want the Avengers to hate her, for her to watch the love of her life disown her. She’ll be heartbroken whilst she dies slowly, in pain, losing everything she’s every loved.” The mysterious man let out an evil cackle as he placed the gun in Y/N hand and walked away.

Nat’s POV:

The room was silent. I felt physically sick. How could I be so stupid. I didn’t even give her a chance to explain, I just instantly thought the worse and left her to her fate. How would she ever forgive me?

The team were shell shocked, no one spoke or moved until Wanda stood up and looked round at all of us. “I hope you’re happy. Y/N worked so hard to prove herself to us, to gain our trust after she had spent 7 years in hell. She did everything we ever asked of her. Yet with one incident you all turn your back, not letting her have her say, you just assumed her guilt and locked her away. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive us.”

No one could make eye contact, the guilt filled the room. What was I doing? Why was I still sat here? “We’ve got to go and let her out, we have to start to make this right.” I said as I rose and started towards the door. The others nodded and followed my lead.

My hands were shaking as we arrived in the cell block. I knew she was going to be angry, I don’t blame her, but I just hope that she’ll give me a chance to make this up to her. I take a deep breath and make my way to her cell.

What I saw made it feel like my heart stopped. Y/N’s body was slumped in the corner of her cell. “No no no no! STEVE OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” I yell frantically. As the door opens, I run to her side, “Y/N, can you hear me, come on Y/N wake up! Baby please don’t leave me!” I shout shaking her shoulders. I can’t tell if she’s even breathing. Her face is gaunt and grey with dark circles under her eyes. I put 2 fingers to her neck feeling a very weak pulse. “She’s alive, just. We need to get her to Banner now!”. I turn around and see Steve and Tony stood there in shock. We did this to her. “Now Steve!” I yell pulling him out of his trance. He bends down and picks her up bridal style rushing her to Bruce’s lab.

We’re all stood outside the lab watching Bruce and his team working on Y/N. “This is all our fault. She could die and not know that we don’t hate her! She could die thinking I don’t love her” I trailed off at that last thought. Fuck, please be ok.

Time skip

Bruce left his lab with a solemn look on his face. He slowly approached us fiddling with the glasses in his hand. “How is she Bruce?” I asked, scared of the answer. He looked up and made eye contact, took a deep breath before starting. “Y/N’s powers were gained from the serum that she was injected with whilst she was held by Hydra. As long as she was using her powers regularly her body was able to prevent the serum from causing damage to her. When we put Y/N into the power restricting cuffs, her body was no longer able to fight the serum. It was slowly poisoning her from the minute we put them on.”

We stood there in silence. We were killing her! “What does that mean? Can you fix her?” Steve asked, stepping forward and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve tried to counter act the serum and I’ve done all I can. Y/N was almost dead when you brought her here her body barely functioning. All we can do now is wait and hope her body reacts to the counter agent.” Silence filled the air again before I dared speak, “so uh, she can still die?” “She’s stable for now, but yes, if her body can’t fight then there won’t be anything else we can do. I’m so sorry Nat.”

I stood there in complete shock. Bruce walked by and gave me a pitying look as he left. I looked towards Steve and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears streamed down my face and I let out quiet sobs as he pulled me in to a tight embrace. “Y/N is a fighter. She’s strong and she’ll get through this.” He tried to comfort me. “A couple of hours ago Steve we thought she was a murder, but it turns out that’s us.” I pushed him away and left.

I walked into the lab and pulled up the chair next to Y/N’s bed taking her hand in mine whilst placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her body seemed so small and it broke my heart to see all the wires and machines fighting to keep her alive. “I’m so sorry moya lyubov (my love). Please fight, please come back to me. I know I don’t deserve it but I promise I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you”. Tears were uncontrollably falling down my face as I gazed down at the love of my life.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard soft cries. I turned to see Wanda, I reached up and grabbed her hand that was resting on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you all.” Wanda said. “No Wanda, you were right, we handled this all wrong. She’s going to need you when she wakes up. You’re the only one who believed her.” The last comment hurt as I said it.

“She’ll forgive you. Her thoughts were very loud when she was with you. She was so happy to be with you, she said you made her feel complete. We are her family and we can fix this” Wanda smiles and gently gives me a kiss on the head before she leaves.

Y/N’s POV:

As I open my eyes I’m blinded by the bright lights. Am I dead? My eyes start to adjust and I look around and see a familiar red head resting on the edge of my bed. I must be dead I think to myself. I pull my hand away from Nat’s tight grasp trying to sit up. This wakes her up. When she sees I’m awake she shoots up. “No, baby you need to lie down.” She says gently pushing at my shoulders. I really want to get up and get out of here, but the pain is horrible. Wait did she just call me baby?

“You’re ok Y/N, we didn’t realise the handcuffs would cause the serum to poison you. You’re going to be ok.” She reaches out to take my hand but I pull it away. I can see that hurt her. I can see tear stains down her cheeks. Why did she care if I was dead or alive? To her I was a cold-hearted Hydra murderer.

“Are you going to send me back to my cell now I’m awake?” I croak barely able to speak. She shakes her head “No Y/N, we saw the camera footage, we’re so sorry we know you didn’t do it. Hydra were setting you up.” I run my hands through my knotted hair and let out a deep breath which causes me to wince. Why does my whole body hurt? Nat seems to notice the wince and pushes a button near the bed calling for Bruce.

A few minutes later Bruce walks through the door with Wanda and Steve in tow. Wanda runs over to me her eyes filling with tears. “Y/N thank God you’re ok. I missed you so much.” She pulls me into a tight hug causing me to let out a small cry of pain. “Shit, I’m so sorry Y/N.” Wanda pulls away quickly and I give her a small smile to let her know it’s ok.

Bruce walks over to take her place and starts asking me questions. Most I can respond to by just nodding or shaking my head. “Why is my whole body in pain? It feels like it’s on fire” I say in a raspy voice. “The serum was attacking every part of your body. We were able to kick start your body into counter acting the damage but it will take some time for you to fully heal. I’ll give you some pain relief now which will hopefully help you be more comfortable.” I nodded as Bruce injected painkillers into my IV.

“When can I leave?” I ask. “I would like to monitor you for a couple of days but I reckon you can move to your room to recover from then.” Bruce responds. “No Bruce, when can I leave the compound? I don’t belong here anymore” He just looked at me as Nat reached out to take my hand again. “Y/N it might take weeks before you’re well enough to walk out of here.” I can feel all of the team’s eyes on me. Nat and Wanda both have glossy eyes. “I’ll take my chances thanks Bruce” I huff as I try and sit up to leave.

They all step forward talking at once.

Bruce: “Y/N lie back down, you’re still at risk. If you leave you could still die!”

Wanda: “Sweetie, please stay. Let us help you. This is your home.”

Steve: “We’re not letting you leave until Bruce says it’s safe”

Nat: “Please baby just stay, I can’t lose you!”

“JUST STOP!” I yell. Ouch that hurt. They all back off and look at me shocked. “Stop pretending that you care about me. This is no longer my home, I do not want to stay somewhere I’m considered a murder and I’m not trusted.” I can feel tears fall down my face now. I’m hurt, I love them so much but they don’t trust me anymore, it’s not realistic for me to stay here.

I can bare to look any of them in the eye but I feel all of theirs burning into me. There is an awkward silence until Nat squeezes my hand before she speaks. “Y/N, please look at me.” She slowly lifts my chin until my teary eyes meet her beautiful green ones. “I know what we have done is unforgivable. I don’t think we will ever be able to tell you how sorry we are. But please believe me when we say that we do not think you are a murder. We made a mistake, an awful mistake, but we will do anything and everything to prove to you that we are sorry and gain your trust back. This is your home and we’re you’re family. I love you and I’m not willing to let you go without a fight this time. I won’t make that mistake again!”.

I search her eyes, trying to find any sign if she’s lying. I turn and look to Wanda who is smiling gingerly at me. “We love you Y/N. I know it may not feel like that right now, but we do.” I reach out and grab her hand and give it a squeeze and her shoulders relax. “I never had a family until I came here. Then you gave me a home and helped me fix myself. I would have given my life for any of you. I found the person I love more than anything in this world.” I pause looking to Nat whose tears have started to fall again. “I don’t know if I can forgive you…. But I know that I want to try. I’m not ready to give up on my family. Not just yet.” The tension in the air seems to lift and they all smile at me whilst Wanda kissed my forehead.

I feel my eyes start to get heavy and Bruce orders everyone to leave so I can rest. Nat stands up to leave but I pull her back towards me. “Please stay with me.” I ask at barely a whisper worried she’ll say no. A wide smile grows across her face as she meets her lips to mine in a soft and loving kiss. Our lips fitting together perfectly as butterflies fill my stomach.

I move over in the bed to make room for her to join me. She looks at me hesitantly. “I don’t want to hurt your babe.” She looks down fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “You won’t hurt me Nat. Right now, I just want my beautiful girlfriend to hold me to make me feel like everything will be ok.” She looks up with a slight smile as she gentle gets into the bed carefully pulling me into her chest. She rests her hand on my stomach asking, “Does this hurt moya lyubov (my love)?” I shake my head and plant soft kisses on her neck. I feel safe again. I know it’s a long way to go before we can fix everything that is broken, but in this moment, I’m happy in the arms of the woman that I love.

#natasha romanoff #natasha #romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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thebearer · 1 year

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What does lip specifically say to reader when he finds out she’s pregnant that makes her so angry?

i'll make a full post about it when i find the correct dialogue that i want to use, but it would be something along the lines of he's blaming you.

lip and you just started kinda fucking and it's gone from best friends to friends with benefits real quick.

he'd tell you it was your fault, that he didn't want to be a dad, that he didn't want to be with you. that hooking up was a mistake, that meeting you was a mistake ("i wish i would've never fuckin' met you! my life has gone to fuckin' shit since i met you!" "really? and who's fault is that, lip?")

just an overall angry, blind rage, lip freak out. a classic, really. he's just trying to hurt you and get you upset, bc... well that's all that's been modeled for him his whole life and he has ZERO coping skills.

ends up going off the deep end. does something stupid and reckless, in classic lip style. ian is who finally gets him halfway under control and who gets him to realize like he's fucked up big.

you're no stranger to his freak outs, it's what he always does, but you never thought you'd be on the receiving end of one. never knew how painful they could be when they were aimed at you.

just like he always does, lip comes back, tries to apologize but you won't hear it. "c'mon, we're havin' a baby together. can you at least talk to me?"

"we are not doing anything." you snap. "i'm not letting you near my baby. not when you're as unstable as that."

"you can't-"

"-i can. and i will." you stop him. "you want to be apart of this baby's life? prove it. go get some fuckin' help, and i'll consider it."

"i-i didn't mean any of that. i was just... fuck, i was mad, and-and i just... i don't know. c'mon, you know that's not true. my life was shit before i met you, and i... look, i know it's my fault i fucked up in the past-"

"-it's your fault you fucked up now too." you snapped. "you're not throwing your pity party here, gallagher. that might work on your sister and youens and everyone else, but you're not getting off that easy with me. i'm not falling for it."

lip is wide eyed, a little unsure, a lot scared. "get some help, lip. this shit has gone on long enough." and the door is slammed in his face.

one unhinged phone call to ian later, and lip is at his shrinks, working through his second pack of cigarettes after ian called in an emergency session. it was a start, at least. regular appointments with his shrink + a million apologies later, and you were slowly letting him be apart of the pregnancy- coming to appointments, a baby shower. he had to work to prove himself after that one, and honestly, the tough love really was the best thing here for him.

#thebearer #bearblahs #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x pregnant!reader #lip gallagher best friend au series #lip gallagher x best friend!reader #lip gallagher x teacher!reader #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher angst #shameless #shamless us #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher blurb

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oriley42 · 1 month

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long time reader, first time caller! i just read all of “adventures in polyamory” after watching approximately 3 episodes with amber in them, and it breaks my heart that you made me fall in love with her wilson-style (with reckless immediacy) while the way she’s depicted in the show is so…woman written in the 2000’s…so i’m here to shake a tin cup and ask for any amber headcanons you’d be willing to share

hello and welcome from KZ-HouseMD, the radio station for all your hatecrime-hits! ;) <3

loving Amber is so painful and so worth it; we will punch through the Noughties' misogyny together babes 🌈

headcanons and over-explanations ahoy!!

Amber's got a WASP-y background, and has spent her life both living up to and rejecting these standards. Unlike Wilson, who is delusionally attached to the idea of being Good and Normal but is unhappy living the reality, Amber recognizes that these concepts are absurd performances HOWEVER she logically recognizes that they come with benefits--and she wants those. "Love and respect" seemed impossible, because respect comes with being the best according to society's rules, and love couldn't survive that stifling environment. Now, she can hold on to the respect she craves: money enough to feel safe, wearing pearls and skirts to look proper and upper-middle-class femme, having a handsome-doctor-man-partner, an MD of her own + also still be herself, including un-ladylike cruelty, dishonesty, being part of House's chaotic evil orbit, sexual freedom, atheism, etc.

Amber has spent 110% of her life trying to get enough success to feel safe and stable and happy, so she hasn't developed interests and hobbies because who has time for that give me another coffee and another go at that medical text

Related: Amber hates everything about organized sports, but if she had the time and a friend (*cough* Thirteen) she could be one of those sapphics who gets incredibly obsessed with a women's soccer team or the WNBA

Also related: a sufficiently "productive" hobby I think she'd love is antiquing. Waking up at six AM to drive three hours and wait outside an estate sale and then barge in and make a grab for that antique bureau, fighting off old ladies and viciously snarling down the price--bloodsport for classy femmes!

Amber is a basic chocolate girlie. Caramel is a close follow-up. Vanilla is fine, and she'll pretend to like fancy amaretto or pistachio flavors etc but really she would prefer an Oreo. (Or two...) She will eat max veggies for Health tm and the spiciest food to prove she is Tough tm but really just wants a grilled cheese. A chicken nugget. A spaghetti. Food sensitivities + eating disorder, though she'll only barely cop to the latter, and will not be exploring the former thank you very much she's fine

Amber gets along well with older kids, where she can take on the role of Cool Babysitter, but I think she's secretly a little terrified of being left alone with the tiny incomprehensible, breakable ones, who don't follow the social contract yet and rely on her (!) for self preservation

Amber is naturally a night owl, but medical-land is all early bird, so she's mainly been sleep deprived for the last decade, since she refuses to have a 10 PM bedtime just because she has to get up at 5 AM to make her shift.

Amber's not that interested in fiction ("who has time for that in this reality?") but she ironically enjoys rom-coms for the absurdity, the laugh factor, and the easy comfort of a formula + unironically enjoys action movies because she likes seeing people get punched in the face repeatedly

Amber should take Taekwondo lessons so she can beat the ever-loving shit out of people for fun, and maybe she will after she realizes that the Lulu Lemons in her yoga classes are unbearable, and instead befriend some weirdos gathering at the local gym to spar (Wilson would think this is a great and very attractive idea, House would be annoyed+scared+horny because jesus now he has to wear an athletic cup full-time or she'll crush his nuts for target practice, won't she, c'mon Wilson it's not funny)

okay hitting the brakes here before this gets so long it demands a read-more! 😜 thanks for the ask <333

#asks #house md #amber volakis #headcanon

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folkwhorerain · 1 year

Text

Just like clockwork.

Sam Carpenter x afab!Reader

gif not mine.

summary: Sam proves you that you don't have to face everything alone.

warnings: description of PMDD symptoms, depression, mood swings, insecure reader, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, bad writing (english is not my first language). Feel free to tell me if I should add more!

(Maybe a little out of character for Sam, but I needed to write this for my own benefit.)

author's note: I got diagnosed with premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) two weeks ago and I did not take it well at all. I just had another PMDD episode and it was really bad, so I wanted to write something to get it out my chest and since Sam is my current comfort character I wanted to write a ff about her comforting reader.

Please remember that this is based on my experience with this disorder and I do not intend to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Enjoy!

It hit you suddenly.

You were fine days ago until you weren't.

It intoxicated your brain without you noticing. You just thought you were being overdramatic as always but, like it happened almost every month just like clockwork, your mind proved you wrong.

It started with a numb sensation on your legs and an inexplicable fatigue, after a few days you started sleeping excessively and leaving the bed was more and more difficult everytime the blanket rocked you in its embrace.

Next you began feeling that heaviness inside your chest that haunted you just six or five days before your menstruation started. Again, just like clockwork. It doesn't happen every, single month but when it does, it's tough dealing with all the symptoms that accompany it.

"Shit." You whispered at the realisation that your PMDD was at its peak again. You will never get used to it. Everytime your period passed you mentally mocked at how much you overreacted, gaslighting yourself into believing that you were just being dramatic and that your disorder wasn't real, which it was actually. It was very real. You just needed to get into the next wave of depression to realise it, just to curse yourself for being so dramatic when your period passed again. It was a cycle you couldn't break.

As it always happened during these excruciating days, you were lying in bed with a urge to cry and a fatigue that came out of nowhere. You knew your symptoms would disappear as soon as your period started, but right now you just let yourself go at the inevitable sensations your disorder provoked you.

Your friends noticed you were detached from them and everytime they would offer you to spend time together or watch a movie, you would always refuse, taking a snack from the kitchen and heading immediately to your room, leaving your friends with a confused look.

You weren't ready for people to know about your disorder, so you only told your favorite sisters and Quinn since she's so nosy that she eventually figured out something was wrong.

"Is Y/N okay?" Chad asked with a hint of concerne in his voice and Tara attached to his sleeve. "She hasn't come out of her room for the past two days."

"I hope it has nothing to do with us," Mindy joked with her mouth full of food. Anika was at her side, stealing some chips from her girlfriend, who was too busy looking at Sam for some sort of explanation to notice. "We're good company, so that would offend me."

Tara looked at Sam with a knowing look. Her face held the same concern as the rest of the group and it only worsened when Sam stayed quiet, too lost looking at the calendar app.

Like the good girlfriend she is, she tracked your period just in case you needed extra help with your PMDD, so when the phone in her hands gave her the confirmation you were about to get your period, she immediately knew what was wrong and it almost annoyed her you didn't tell her like you promised to.

You were never one to ask for help or even talk about your feelings. You would rather walk on lava than saying something was bothering you, and Sam understood that. She was never open about her feelings herself and just suck them up until they didn't bother her anymore or she learnt to live with them. But when it comes to you and your health, it's different so she stood up from the couch of the apartment you, Quinn, Tara and Sam shared and walked towards her room which was now yours as well since Quinn moved in with you and took your old room. Not that you spent a lot of time in it anyway. You were always with Sam and most of your stuff was already in her room anyways.

"Y/N?" You heard Sam crack open the door and slowly walk towards the bed. You had your back to her, body fully covered by your weighted blanket. You stayed still. Hopefully she wouldn't hear you cry and just leave you be.

When you didn't answer the brunette thought you were asleep and contemplated if leaving was the best decision, but when she heard a sob escape your mouth (much to your dismay), she climbed into the bed and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's that bad again, isn't it?" She asked sympathetically as she stroked your back slowly. Her heart sank knowing you were feeling like this again and you decided to deal with it all alone.

You turned to look at her with red, puffy eyes. It took you a while to nod your head yes, not wanting to bother her with something that was only your problem and would probably just drag her into your spiral of sadness. But hiding was no use, it was clear as the sun that you were feeling shitty. "I wanna be alone, though."

Sam sighed quitely and squeezed your shoulder. "Don't push me away, Y/N, please. I'm not leaving you. I just wanna help."

You usually loved how she knew you like the palm of her hand, but as of right now it just annoyed you and it took all the strength you had in your already aching body to not snap at her. Therefore you took a deep breath and gave yourself some time before saying something you would regret. You weren't even angry at Sam. You didn't know what you were so angry about. You just were. You always felt like you were on the verge of exploding.

"I just–" you couldn't finish your sentence as you covered your eyes with both your hands and let out an annoyed groan.

Sam frowned sympathetically, both of her hands gripping gently your wrists in an attempt to not let you hide your feelings from her, no matter how bad they were. But you were persistent and there was no way you would've let her see you this way, so your hands didn't move. Not even a inch.

Sam took a deep, shaky breath as she thought about what could make you feel better. Keeping her composure was hard in a situation like this, but she knew it wasn't easy for you first. After all, it was you who had to deal with it in the first place.

You uncovered your eyes when you felt the weight on the bed was gone and your girlfriend had disappeared.

You pouted and tears started streaming down your face again, both from sadness and anger towards yourself. You couldn't believe you felt sad she left when you were the one who told her to leave you alone in the first place.

"Why do I have to be like this?" You whispered as you pulled yourself up and sit on the bed, throwing your phone on the bedside with too much force.

You hated it. You couldn't believe you had to feel like this because of something so… natural. Periods should be associated with life and birth. Hell, in some historic culture a menstruating person was considered sacred, you couldn't believe you had to deal with it in such a painful way.

You can't even say you couldn't wait for your period to start, because once you start bleeding, your ovaries feels like they're being stabbed over and over again.

Mentally excruciating PMS and painful menstruation. Great combo.

After a few minutes you heard the door open again and your girlfriend was standing there with a tiny smile and a glass of water accompanied by some snacks in her hands.

Your gaze softened at the sight and you wondered how could someone like you ever deserve someone as caring as Sam Carpenter.

"I know you forgot to take your meds, so here…" She cooed as she gave you the glass and your pills, which you gladly took but not before smiling appreciatively at the brunette. "I understand you want to be left alone and I accept it, but I just want to be with you throughout all of this. Please, let me take care of you."

"Sam–"

"We don't have to talk. We can just stay here and exist together." She was standing in front of you with a hopeful expression, waiting for you to give her permission to stay.

You took a few moments to think about it and meanwhile you got lost in the sight before you.

She had bags under eyes due to the tiredness two shitty jobs can give you and her usual jeans and sweater were replaced with pajama shorts and a blue tank top you were sure she stole from you. You loved how her black locks were styled perfectly even after a six hour shift and her dark eyes glistened with hope.

You must look like shit compared to her, not having the strength to comb your hair or eat a proper meal. You were even surprised you menaged to take a shower and brush your teeth. You'd probably look at yourself with disgust if you had a mirror in front of you. No way someone else would look at you differently.

Yet there she was, still looking at you like you were her whole world and when she looked at you like that it was almost impossible to say no to her, so you smiled weakly and patted the place beside you on the bed.

She smiled widely before she sank into the bed, covering her body with your favorite blanket. "Do you want me to hug you or you don't feel comfortable being touched?"

You suddenly felt a urge to be comforted and held, so you took this opportunity before you felt the need to be alone again and welcomed her in your arms. She wrapped her arms around your body, legs now entangled with yours. Her left hand wiped away your tears and the other stroked your arm slowly.

Guilt made its way through your body and that painful weight in your chest became heavier.

You hated yourself for being such a burden.

You didn't want people to deal with you when you were at you lowest. If you could, you wouldn't even deal with it yourself. But it was your mind and body, so ignoring its needs was not an option. But your friends and family had the opportunity to leave, to tell you to fuck yourself when you'd yell at them without an apparent reason, yet they didn't. Even when you pushed them away just like you did an hour ago and they decided to spend time together anyway. Of course that made you silently sob as you saw they could live without you.

It wasn't fair to think like that, you knew. But it wasn't you who had control of your mind when your depression was at its peak, it was your disorder and you could not disobey its will. No matter how much it hurt you.

"I'm so pathetic." You whispered with eyes full of tears again. Your thoughts were the worst part of these episodes. The voices telling you that you're not enough were persevering and it was hard to not listen to them. "I'm sorry you have to endure all of my shit. I would leave if I was you."

"That's not true, Y/N. You know you don't really think that." She whispered softly, placing sweet kisses on the crown of your head. "You're not pathetic for feeling this way. You didn't choose it."

You stayed silent, feeling paralyzed. The only thing you did was hug her tightly and stroke her hip affectionately.

Sometimes it scares you how much she knows you and how you think.

"I'm here no matter what. You are not your disorder. I knew there were gonna be ups and downs when I chose you, but just like you knew it when you chose me." She stopped talking just to give a few kisses on your neck, easing a little bit of the tension you felt. "If we gotta be honest, I'm the daughter of a serial killer who almost got herself and her friends killed just because of that. If there's someone who should leave, that's you."

A weak chuckle escaped your mouth at that last phrase. You weren't gonna leave her for that. Hell, you would rather be attacked by Ghostface than leave your girlfriend.

It didn't matter what Sam did or who she was. You knew the real her and you thanked the universe everyday for being able to see parts of her she hardly showed to anyone else.

You knew how hard it was for her after Richie turned out to be Ghostface and she decided to move to a city where people saw him like the victim and her like the villain.

Trusting new people wasn't an option for her and you were no exception when you responded to the anonymous ad of when her and Tara were looking for a roommate.

The first time you met her it almost looked like you were being interrogated, but when you left aside the thought of how pretty she was and you recognised her as one of the survivors of the Woodsboro attack, you understood why.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt her lips on your shoulder, and when you turned your head slightly to look at her, you saw she was already staring at you with a glint in her eyes she reserved just for you. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

She bit your shoulder playfully at your comment making you crack a smile. "I love you."

"I love you, too Sam." And with that she gave the palm of your hand a kiss, next she shifted to your neck, your jaw and finally your lips.

You couldn't help but smile as you tried to ignore the heaviness you still felt in your chest.

It was hard dealing with you when you felt like this but, everytime you needed, Sam was there.

Just like clockwork.

That's all, people!

As usual, I hope you liked it.🫶🏻

If your PMS is so bad that it effects your daily activities, please talk to your doctor about it. It may be sign of PMDD or other premenstrual disorders.

Remember you are not alone and I'm always here if you need to talk.

I love you all. <3

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #scream #scream 5 #scream vi #melissa barrera #ghostface #tara carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #quinn bailey

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