#but mixed with trying to be separate people and feeling cold like a piece is missing

[bongsavior]

why does everyone else's state dictate how i'm doing? why do i obsess over how everyone is, except for myself?

[ratsonastick]

Shirt

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!reader

It’s been a few months since you two broke up, but that doesn’t mean you both still don’t love each other.

Warnings - small make out 😛

It had been a few months since you and Clarisse had broken up. The two of you were getting into arguments, and at some point, you believed that maybe the two of you just didn’t mix, and were best separated.

And yet you still couldn’t help yourself wanting to see her again.

You found yourself one cold night sneaking into the Ares cabin (which was a risky business) but Clarisse taught you tricks.

You walked up the stairs of the cabin to the second floor where you saw a dimly lit room (let’s pretend some campers get their rooms for good reasons —- Clarisse’s reason is that she probably fought for it….)

You knocked on it gently waiting, and finally, it opened to reveal the curly head girl. “Y/n?”

“I can’t find my stuffed animal…” you thought of a lie. Clarisse knew that sounded wrong, you took great care of your animals. “A stuffed animal?”

You hummed softly and nodded your head. Clarisse sighed and shook her head, opening the door for you to step in. Even though you two are separated, Clarisse still has such a large soft spot for you.

You knew where you would’ve lost one … if you did. And that was in the crack between her bed and wall.

You started to look, stuffing your hand down and trying to feel for anything. When you did you gasped softly out of surprise. But when you pulled the item up it was simply a shirt. Your shirt.

“Hey! I thought you said you didn’t have this!” You frowned looking at Clarisse who seemed a bit embarrassed.

Your favorite shirt that had gone missing was here the whole time. You kept looking back and forth but then tossed the shirt onto the ground behind you, trying to continue your act.

Clarisse picked up the shirt and folded it, placing it behind her pillow hoping this went unnoticed by you.

After a few minutes she let out a soft laugh “Okay Y/n, you just look stupid.” She stood behind you, her hands itching to rest on your hips but instead, they fell to her side.

You sit up, your back hitting her stomach before you lean forward to create distance.

“Well luckily and unluckily I didn’t find my animal … so I guess I’ll just leave.”

But she paused your movements before you could get up from the bed “Just sit there for a moment.”

She turned around and walked to her closet, shuffling inside. You sat on her bed looking around the room you had been in endless amounts of times.

Then you noticed your shirt that was tucked under her pillow and you smiled.

Clarisse stood up and turned around with an animal that you didn’t even know was missing. Your mouth dropped.

“Is this what you wanted?” You nodded your head and reached your arms out to which she gave you the animal.

“If you knew it was there the whole time why did you make me go through that struggle?” You mumbled shyly, to such hehe just shrugged her shoulders.

“I had a good view,” she teased, which made you look down at your lap.

“I should get going.” You announced as you stood up from the bed.

“Or you could stay.” She mumbled as she leaned against her shelf, her arms crossed.

“Clar” you mumbled out her nickname “you know that’s a bad idea.”

She shrugged her shoulders “So is having a bunch of demigods run around fighting monsters, but you don’t see people complaining.”

“Yeah but … we broke up for a reason, I just don’t want to have to do it again.” You answered truthfully.

“Okay, so we don’t.” She spoke, her face serious as she walked closer. “Clarisse don’t do this … you know that’s not gonna work.”

“Then I’ll make it work … I’ll beg Aphrodite to help me … just like I begged her to help me get you in my room again.” She spoke softly, a small smirk on her face as her hands met your hips.

They dipped under your baggy shirt finding the small piece of skin she always liked to circle with her thumbs.

“Come on princess … I’ll make it worth your wild.” She spoke softly, moving her head slightly so she could try to meet your eyes.

Your skin was starting to turn warm, and she only brought you further towards her.

You dipped your head back and let out a soft groan, but only seconds later did you feel a soft pair of lips kissing your pulse point.

And that was it.

Your hands moved to tangle in her hair and she pulled you closer. And it wasn’t long till you were lying in her bed, her on top of you, hands exploring everything she missed.

While one hand was tangled in her hair, as she planted another fresh hickey on your neck, the other traveled to her pillow.

Where you once again felt your shirt, “Clar” you mumbled as you opened your eyes.

“Mhmm” she hummed softly, focusing on the middle of your neck while her hand traveled under your shirt.

“What’s with my shirt under your pillow?”

The question made her movements falter and she looked up at you. “It was the only thing left I had of you that still had your scent.”

“Aww, what a softie.”

“Shut up”

A/N - TAKING CHARACTER X READER REQUESTS!!

[cheynovak]

Texas sky – part 5 

Summary: Y/N, a former cast member of Supernatural, had left Texas for LA several years ago, citing career reasons but also escaping unresolved personal issues. During a reunion party in Austin, she reconnects with Jensen Ackles, who is still married to Danneel but also struggling with his own difficulties.  He confronts Y/N about her sudden departure and their past, hoping things might turn out differently this time.  

Warnings: Friend to lovers, old love rediscovering, marriage problems, cheating, alcohol, hurt, anger, fluff, story with smut, ...  

English is not my first language   

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The morning started like any other, with the familiar ding of notifications pulling me out of bed. I absentmindedly scrolled through my social media, expecting the usual flood of fan posts and pictures from conventions. Jensen had been overseas for weeks, and while I tried to keep my distance, his texts and calls were a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between us. I could feel in my bones that he was going to beg me to reconsider, to give him more time, to hold on just a little longer. But I was exhausted, worn down by the emotional toll of it all. I didn’t think I had another fight left in me.

Then I saw it.

My thumb hovered over the screen as the headlines and fan theories exploded across my feed. Fans were buzzing with speculation, piecing together clues that had been floating around for days. The most glaring detail? Jensen hadn’t been wearing his wedding ring. But nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

A video from a panel Danneel had done the day before started autoplaying on my feed. She stood alone on stage, her expression a mix of bitterness and sadness. My heart raced as I hit play, dreading what I was about to hear.

Danneel didn’t mince words. She addressed the rumors head-on, explaining that she and Jensen were separated. She paused, her gaze hardening, and then she dropped the bombshell that made my stomach twist into knots.

“He’s been unfaithful,” she said, her voice cold and steady. The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. “That’s why I’ve chosen not to do any photo ops with him. I need to take care of myself, and I won’t pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.”

I could barely breathe as I watched the video, my heart sinking further with every word. Danneel’s accusation felt like a punch to the gut, the kind that knocks the wind out of you and leaves you reeling. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it all.

She told the people she had her suspicions for a very long time, she didn't say my name but she mentioned it being a long time friend and co worker of him. The implications of what she was saying were too much to process. I knew there were problems between them, that much was clear, but hearing it confirmed in such a public, final way was devastating.

In the following panels, I saw Jensen trying desperately to put out the fire. His attempts to smooth things over were met with mixed reactions, the fans divided between those who supported him and those who sided with Danneel.

He explained it wasn't just a one time thing, that he fell in love and fell hard, that he and Danneel had been together for the public eye, not wanting to discuss anything publicly. Asking for his kids sake to let it be. Even though she made his life a living hell, he never said one bad word about Danneel. Taking the blame all on him.

The speculation was growing, spreading like wildfire across social media. It felt like the walls were closing in, the secret world we had shared crumbling around us.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced down to see a text from Jensen.

“Call me. Please.”

My hand shook as I read the message, the words blurring on the screen as tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to call him, to hear his voice and somehow make sense of this mess. But I was paralyzed, unable to move, my thoughts spinning out of control.

I knew Jensen would beg me to stay, to stick by him through this storm. He would tell me he loved me, that he needed more time to figure things out. But Danneel’s words kept echoing in my mind, louder and louder until I couldn’t think straight.

“He’s been unfaithful.”

The guilt hit me like a tidal wave, pulling me under and drowning me in regret. I had been the reason for their separation, I was the one who had pushed Jensen to this point? The thought was unbearable, a weight on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I felt horrible.

With trembling hands, I typed out a reply.

“J, I know we need to talk, but not like this. Not now. I’m sorry.”

I tried to hold my ground, to keep the distance I knew we needed, but Jensen didn’t let go. My phone rang again, his name flashing on the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Then, a notification popped up—voicemail. I hesitated, knowing that whatever he had to say would only make this harder, but I couldn’t ignore it.

With a deep breath, I pressed play. The moment his voice filled my ears, my heart broke all over again. He sounded devastated, his words shaky and broken, and I could hear the unmistakable sound of tears in his voice.

“Please, just listen,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know she was going to do this. Before we left for Europe, Danneel said she wanted to come along to help our relationship, to work on us. I thought... I thought we were going to, I don't know, talk about how to work things out with the kids and divorce and all. I tried to reach you, to tell that I left her. Please just... call me."

He took a deep breath.

"She blindsided me. I had no idea she was planning to say all that. I swear, I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

He paused, his breath hitching as he tried to compose himself, but the next words came out in a choked sob. “I love you. I need you. Please, don’t shut me out. I don’t know what to do without you.”

The voicemail ended, leaving me sitting there in silence, my chest aching with the weight of his words. I could picture him, alone and broken, thousands of miles away, and the thought of him hurting like this was unbearable.

I couldn’t keep doing this to him, or to myself.

Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and called him back. The line barely rang before he picked up.

“Jensen,” I said, my voice trembling. “Where are you?”

He sounded relieved, almost desperate as he answered. “I’m in London for a couple of days. I would really want to see you.”

I didn’t hesitate. As soon as I hung up, I booked the next flight out. I didn’t know what I was going to say when I saw him, but I knew I had to be there. The distance, the silence, none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was that he needed me, and I couldn’t let him go through this alone.

The hours until my flight felt like an eternity, my mind racing with what might happen when I arrived. Part of me was scared, terrified of what this might mean for us, for the mess that our lives had become. But another part of me, the part that still loved him with every fiber of my being, knew that I couldn’t stay away.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I boarded the plane. The flight was a blur, my thoughts consumed by the sound of his voice in that voicemail, the pain in his words. I replayed it over and over in my mind, each time feeling the tug of his need pulling me closer to him.

When the plane touched down in London, I was filled with a mix of anxiety and determination. I knew that whatever happened next could change everything, but I couldn’t let that stop me. Jensen needed me, and that was all that mattered.

I stepped out of the terminal, my heart pounding as I scanned the crowd for him. And then I saw him—standing there, looking as lost as I felt, his eyes searching for me wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. The moment our eyes met, all the fear and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a deep, undeniable pull towards him.

I walked towards him, my steps quickening as I closed the distance between us. He looked exhausted, his face etched with pain and sleepless nights, but the moment I reached him, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he buried his face in my hair. “I never meant for any of this to happen, not like this not publicly.”

I held him tight, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, and for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to let go. The weight of everything we’d been through seemed to melt away as I pressed my lips to his, not caring if anyone saw. Jensen didn’t care either; he kissed me back with a desperation that made my heart ache.

When we finally pulled away, I noticed a few people in the crowd recognizing him—recognizing us. But Jensen didn’t flinch. He grabbed my luggage with one hand, keeping his other arm securely around my waist as we made our way through the terminal. He only stopped once, briefly, to sign an autograph for a fan who had hesitated before approaching us.

“No pictures today,” he said gently, offering a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The fan nodded, understanding, and thanked him before Jensen turned back to me and we continued walking.

I’d seen Jensen interact with fans countless times, and he almost never turned down a request for a photo. But today, I could see why he had to say no. He looked exhausted, like the life had been sucked out of him, his usual energy replaced by something heavy and dark.

--

We finally made it to his hotel room, the door closing behind us with a soft click. The room was quiet, almost eerily so, a stark contrast to the chaos that had been swirling around us. Jensen set my luggage down and turned to me, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper—something that spoke to how much he had been holding in.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, stepping closer to him. “Of course, J. I couldn’t just stay away, I just... needed time.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek as he searched my eyes for something—reassurance, comfort, maybe even forgiveness. “I’ve missed you so much,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t know what to do, how to fix any of this.”

I took his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “We’ll figure it out,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Don't we always?”

Jensen pulled me into another embrace, holding on like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for a moment, we just stood there, clinging to each other as if the world outside didn’t exist.

After a few minutes, Jensen finally pulled back, his eyes searching mine.

We moved over to the couch, and he sat down beside me, our legs brushing against each other. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his back.

“Talk to me, Jensen,” I urged gently. “What’s going on in your head?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “Everything’s a mess,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought I could keep it together, keep everything separate, but it’s all falling apart. I never though she would hit such a low blow."

I reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension radiate through him. “You told her about us?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the question hung between us, the answer holding so much more than just words.

Jensen nodded, his eyes clouded with a mixture of regret and resolve. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I told her everything. About how I feel about you… how I’ve always felt.” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “She tried to dismiss it, saying it would change, that it was just a phase, but I told her it wasn’t. I asked for a divorce.”

My breath caught at his admission. “And?”

“She said no,” Jensen replied, a bitter edge to his tone. “She’s refusing to let go, saying I’ll come around, that it’s just a rough patch. But now she’s telling everyone her side, twisting the story to make it look like I’m the one at fault, that I’ve been unfaithful. She’s dealing the cards her way, trying to make me the villain.”

"And I know in a way I am guilty, I did cheat I know that. But no one knows how many year I put up with her, just for the kids."

The pain in his eyes was palpable, and without thinking, I leaned in and kissed him, pouring every ounce of my feelings into it, hoping to ease the hurt even just a little. When I pulled back, his gaze was searching mine, fear flickering in his eyes.

“I’m afraid this will push you away again,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.

I shook my head firmly, realizing in that moment that he had chosen me, that despite everything, he was here with me. “I’ll never leave you,” I promised, my voice steady with certainty.

Relief washed over his features as he pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me like he was afraid I might slip away if he let go. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

But I silenced him before he could continue, pressing my lips to his in a heated kiss, pouring everything into it—my love, my fear, my hope. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, our bodies molding together as if trying to erase the distance that had been between us for so long.

His hands moved to cup my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized had started to fall. “I love you,” he whispered against my lips, the words raw and filled with a desperation that mirrored my own.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, the truth of it echoing in every beat of my heart. "I've always loved you." The confession hung in the air between us, a truth that had been buried for far too long. Jensen pulled me closer, his hands wandering over my body as if trying to memorize every inch of me. I could feel the tension in his grip, the way his fingers trembled slightly as they traced the curves of my back.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice breaking as tears welled up in his eyes. The raw emotion in his words tugged at my heart, and I nodded, feeling my own tears threatening to spill over.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied softly, my voice thick with emotion. I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, trying to offer some comfort. “It’s late, J. You probably need to get some sleep.”

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Will you stay tonight?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid I might say no.

I smiled softly, my heart swelling with love for him. “If you want me to,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I’ll stay every night from now on.”

The relief that washed over his face was palpable, and he pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of my neck whispering. "I'd hoped you'd say that."

--

Jensen crawled into bed, his movements slow and heavy with exhaustion. From the bathroom, I watched him through the open door, brushing my teeth as I saw him fighting to stay awake. His eyelids drooped, and I could see the weight of everything he’d been carrying in the lines of his face. It broke my heart to see him like this—a wonderful man who didn’t deserve any of the distress he was going through.

As I rinsed my mouth, my thoughts drifted to all the “what ifs” that had haunted me for so long. What if I had been more straightforward about my feelings from the beginning? Would he returned the feelings a little earlier?

What if I had let him stay that night before his wedding, when he had been so vulnerable and unsure? Could I have saved him from all of this?

But those thoughts were a double-edged sword, filled with regret and longing. All I wanted now was for him to be happy, to find some peace in the chaos that had become his life.

When I finally joined him in bed, sliding under the covers, I felt his arm instinctively wrap around me. He muttered something under his breath, his voice thick with sleep, “It’s about time,” he said, his words barely audible as he nestled his face against my chest.

I kissed his hair, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away as he held me close. “Sleep now,” I whispered, my fingers gently running through his hair in soothing strokes.

Jensen let out a content sigh, his breath warm against my skin. His body relaxed completely, his breathing evening out as he finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had been plaguing him. I held him like that, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a sense of calm between us.

As I lay there, watching over him while he slept, I made a silent promise to myself—to do whatever it took to make sure he found happiness, to stand by him through whatever came next. And as the night wore on, with Jensen safe in my arms, I finally felt like we were on the path to something better.

--

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[datsleepygirl]

when things get hard, will you still be by my side? Law x Reader Comfort

- most people know this, but if you're new here, law is my comfort character, so I had him in mind when writing this.

before you proceed, please know that :

I've been in a difficult position in life for the past few months, so please don't expect any greatness from me. I'm not really in a position where I can sprinkle some fluff here and there like I was able to in the past, but I tried my best to make the end as fluffy as possible. this is just a simple piece of scrabble with myself as 'inspiration'. I needed a way to express how I felt for the past few months, so I decided to turn it into a piece as I realised that I haven't been posting much lately. hopefully someone can get some enjoyment out of this. :))

status : not proofread

- tw. mentions of depression, self struggles, reader in denial of anyone loving her, self hatred, bunch of comfort, fluff in the end if you squint. law and reader aren't together yet, but they have been playing cat and mouse for a while.

It's like every time I step through these doors, they all look at me with pity in their eyes, like they're looking at a poor stray cat on the street that no one wants.

Aside from all those times, it's also like they're judging me for slacking off and moping around in my room. The captain's probably thinking of ways to get rid of me without telling me that I'm useless. That's how he is. He starts off as this cold and unapproachable person, but once you've entered his life, he'll always find a way to take care of you. The once frequent knocks on my door proves that right. He'd come and check on me, asking if I had eaten anything or have I been feeling ill, but his concerns were always answered with a smile of mine and reassuring him that I'm fine. With that going on for a while, he probably figured out that I was lying to his face, or maybe him simply don't have the energy to pretend that he cares about me anymore. That's how everyone on this submarine behaved lately.

I looked around my room, all dark and gloomy. Yesterday, I found the energy to clean it up a little as it was starting to get out of hand. If there's one thing that gets on Law's nerve the most, it's clean and dirty laundry mixed up on the floor. Even at my lowest, my mind always drift to him. Because even if I knew from the beginning that he won't return my feelings, my feelings for him are just growing stronger and stronger every second. With the state that I'm in now, there's no way that I would be able to be around his presence, let alone look him in the eye and start a conversation with him. Maybe that's why I did everything in my power to avoid leaving my room. The fear of rejection, even after years of being an outcast, still makes me feel like I'm about to suffocate. It's almost like as long as I don't leave this room, as long as I don't see Law, I can keep staying here, even if none of my crewmates like me anymore.

When I look out the window, I can see the moon, a gift for all minks, hanging high up the sky. My thoughts naturally drifted to Bepo, the absolute sweetheart of this crew. And when I think about it, I can't help but feel bad about myself even more. How did I manage to get the sweetest creature in this world to hate me as well?

'Damn y/n... just how pathetic can you be...'

Voices in my head echoed louder and louder every passing day. Voices that tell me I'm useless and unwanted here. Voices that tell me there'll never be a place for me where I can call a home. Voices that tell me I'll never be loved, that I don't deserve to be loved.

When Law came to check up on me in the past, that split second of seeing him and hearing his voice made the voices go away. But when he leaves, the voices come back instantly. I've told myself that relying on other people is a bad decision, simply because I'll always be left alone in the end. But somehow, trying to separate myself from Law is completely different from what I had ever experienced. My heart screams for me to just call out to him for help, but my brain knows that everything will just turn out the same eventually. I'll just be more of a burden to Law than I already am.

.

"y/n-ya, are you in there?"

A knock and the soft but deep voice that I had fallen in love with startled me.

Why is he here? Why is he here at night? Why is he here when he should be in his study at this hour? A million questions ran through my mind as I could only come up with one conclusion.

He wants me off his submarine.

The voice on the other side of the door called out to me again as I finally stood up, slowly making my way over to the door. A sigh of relief escaped from him as he saw me open my door. However, at this state of mine, I misunderstood it as a sigh of annoyance. He's annoyed that it took me so long to open the door.

"I wanna talk to you. Can I come in?" he wasted no time, cutting straight to the point. I nodded, moving aside as he made his way into my room. I closed the door behind me while he looked around my room, clearly surprised that it has become a lot cleaner than before. "I see you put your laundry away and cleaned up a little." Law started, sitting on my bed while taking off his hat.

Thousands of thoughts in my head are giving me a headache. I wanted to make him believe that I'm doing okay. But before I realised, my words rang around the whole room.

"Yeah... can never be too sure about when I'd have to leave now, can I? It's best to have everything organised so it'd be easier to find what I need to take with me."

Well, that certainly struck a nerve. Law eyebrows creased at my words, only confusion can be found on his face.

"Leaving? y/n-ya, what are you talking about? Who said you're leaving?" the walls around my heart are closing up on it again, preventing me from having a calm and productive conversation with him. Maybe if I were able to believe that someone would actually love me for me, I'd have the courage to seek help from him.

"Well... that's what you all wanted, right? I'm just someone that brings nothing to the table. The others are tired of me, and you're disappointed at me. That's why you came here, right?" I couldn't even look him in the eye as I was afraid that all I'll see in his eyes is disgust.

"What the hell? Wha- who told you that? I came here to talk to you about the list of things we need to buy on the next island, which is about two days away. You also weren't there during dinner, so I wanted to come check on you to see if you're feeling unwell. Actually, that's not the point. How long have you been feeling this way? Why didn't you come to me?" Law stood up and slowly made his way towards me, switching into doctor and caring captain mode.

I sighed, looking at anywhere but him. "It's fine, you don't have to pretend that you care. All my life, I've been abandoned and left behind. I can tell when someone's kindness is coming from pity or not. You don't need to look for an excuse to get rid of me, nor do you need to sugarcoat anything, I get it. I never thought I'd have a place where I can call a home anyways..."

Law put his hands on my shoulders as if he's trying to get me to look at him. "y/n-ya, stop. What are you talking about? This is your home, why wouldn't it be? We're not going to abandon you. I'm not going to abandon you. No one is pitying you. In fact, we've all been worried about you, for weeks. You could've at least come to me. Do you not trust me enough?" his question at the end made my heart clench. The one person that I wanted to impress and protect the most, is disappointed at me. At this point, my eyes were stinging from tears threatening to escape. He wanted to convince me that he cares about me, that everyone does. But how can I trust him? My heart does, but all the trauma from the past is preventing me from thinking logically, preventing me from letting him in. Ironic that I can't trust when the person who stole my heart said that he cares about me is the truth. In any dream, I'd die to hear those words. So why can't I find it in me to believe him?

"You know as well as I do that no one will ever truly love me. Just look at this pathetic mess in front of you. Why would someone love... this? Why would you love this?" his grip on my shoulders tightened, but he didn't say anything. Seeing as he wanted me to continue, I did. "At this point, it'd be better if I leave on my own and spare you some trouble. It's be one less mouth for you to feed anyways." I let out a sour chuckle at the end, laughing at how pathetic I sound. One of his hands reached under my chin and lifted my face up, forcing me to look at him. The look in his eyes held no hint of disgust. Instead, all that can be found was rage and hurt.

"Is this seriously what you think of me? You think that I was looking at you as just 'a mouth to feed'? You really see me as someone who'd lie to your face and say that I care about you? You out of all people should know that I despise shit like that. What can I do to make you believe that you deserve to be loved? What can I do to make you believe that you're loved?" the desperation in Law's voice almost made me believe that he's telling the truth. I escaped from his gaze once again, looking down. His eyes softened as he continued,

"What can I do to make you believe that I love you...? Please, tell me."

My eyes widened at his words. The genuineness in his voice created a huge crack on the thick walls around my heart. This is the first time I've ever heard Law beg for something.

Just a little more, and my walls will break down.

"...do you really?" I found the courage to look him in the eyes with my teary ones. Law pulled me into a tight embrace, one arm around my waist while the other one gently caressed my hair. That vulnerable look and weak voice of mine broke his heart into pieces. He tightened his hold on me as he whispered in my ear,

"I do, I truly love you. Those months of playing cat and mouse with you is just me not having the guts to tell you how I really feel. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see the light in your eyes fade away day by day. You distancing yourself from us and not showing up as frequently as before broke my heart. I wanted to give you some space because I thought that eventually, you'd trust me enough to come to me and tell me about your struggles. I want to be there for you. You're not alone in this y/n-ya, you never were. Let me be there for you, let me in, please."

I returned the hug as I relaxed in his embrace, finally accepting that the man in front of me, who I love so much, is being genuine. I sobbed as he continued to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, reassuring me that he's not going anywhere.

"You're staying in my room from now on. And if anything bothers you, you'll tell me about it immediately, okay?" Law pulled away slightly in order for him to look me in the eyes, signalling that he's serious about this. I nodded, unable to find the energy to muster up a response. With that, Law brought me back into his warm embrace, but not before pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead.

And if the past creeps up on me again, I will have no fear this time. With the sound of your heartbeat, this unique and special lullaby just for me, will protect me from all the voices in my head.

.

[seangelfish]

A/N: I’m planning on writing more around this test with other Paralive characters too, so please check out for those! ♡ (⇀ 3 ↼)

“Can you peel me an orange?"

Kanata Yatonokami x Reader ♡ Tags: (mild) angst, fluff, established relationship, not proofread! ♡ W/C: 462 ♡ Prompt: Inspired by the Orange Peel test that’s going around the internet lately, but add Kanata into the mix!

“Hah?” he said with such harshness that it shocked the both of you. He didn’t mean to say it like that, but it came out of his mouth anyway. “Sorry, (Y/N)… today’s been rough.”

“Oh… that’s alright,” you replied. Now you were rethinking whether you wanted him to peel you an orange at this point. It was clear that he wasn’t in a good mood.

“What was it that you wanted me to do?” he asked, a hand scratching the back of his head. “Peel you an orange? Can’t you just do that yourself—”

“You don’t have to do it,” you said quickly, putting on a smile. Your heart clenched as tears threatened to spill. Of course Kanata would say something like that, that you could just peel it yourself. That’s the way he is. Despite being your lover, he was kind of mean.

You could peel the orange yourself, sure, but you wanted him to do it for you.

You looked away from him, lips pursed. You heard him stand up and walk away, his footsteps gradually getting faint.

You let out a sigh — one that expelled your disappointment and sadness.

After a few minutes, you picked up a sound of his footsteps coming back to you.

“Here,” he said, handing you a bowl of an orange he had just peeled for you. In fact, it wasn’t just peeled, but pulled separately into pieces too. “You wanted me to peel you an orange.”

Surprised by this action, you looked up at him with your glassy eyes.

“K-Kanata, I—”

“Hey, why are you crying?” he asked, stunned. He set the bowl aside, cupping your face with his hands. “(Y/N), did you really want me to peel that orange for you?”

“Mhm…” you admitted. You were kind of embarrassed for even feeling this way over something so small. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d do that for me…”

Kanata looked dumbfounded — a look which said, ‘Why would I not do that for you?’

His gaze softened. “Of course I would. I was just confused. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

And he was right. Kanata, despite being ‘so mean’ was never truly mean to you. He put great effort in trying to minimise his cold personality whenever he was around you. After all, you were the love of his life — one of the few people he loved and trusted.

Plus, his brotherly instincts immediately kicked in when you asked him to peel you an orange.

“Here, now eat,” he said as he fed you a piece. “Taste good?”

“Mhm!”

Seeing you smile so radiantly like that made the corners of his mouth perk up too. As he watched you lovingly, feeding you the orange he had peeled, the two of you spent your afternoon happily in each other’s presence.

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

[charon-cries]

how do you determine your color palette...? color is something i have a lot of difficulty with and i really want to learn how to at least figure out a color palette 😅

i guess another way to phrase it is how did you go about learning color theory?

the number one most helpful thing i did for myself when teaching myself to color was to realize that every artist colors differently.

i already knew color theory in advance, i memorized every word i had been told throughout every highschool art class i had taken, but knowing the actual facts and knowing how to apply them are very different skills!

if you haven't learned the facts of color theory, i highly suggest these two videos (thing 1) (thing 2). <- the most important part of watching those videos is to hold them in your head as facts. if watching them doesn't make you necessarily understand how to apply them, that's okay! these videos are to give you the skills to be able to study color.

for a simple example, when it comes to picking colors based off the mood of your piece, pretty much everyone knows that blue will make an image feel more sad and emotional. yellow feels happy, red feels angry, pink feels affectionate.

a great way to teach yourself how to APPLY mood through color is to go back to a drawing you're already very proud of, and just mess around recoloring it. pick one thing you want to work on and try to use your color choices change the emotional effect of the piece.

it's incredibly helpful to use a piece that you have already colored, preferably one you're the most proud of. this is so that you aren't stressing yourself thinking about things like proportion or composition, and allows you to think solely about your color choices.

here's my example! for this example, my goal was to make this one feel far more bleak than my original finished piece.

i achieved this change by shifting the colors to all be more cold and desaturated, as well as making the blacks of his undershirt and tie look more washed out. most people associate cool colors with sadness, and dull colors with defeat. mixing those two makes the mood more bleak. color placement can also change a lot— for this version, i placed a lot of the blush color (which i desaturated significantly) higher up his face, which gives him a more horrified and thoughtful expression

once you've done exercises like this once or twice, a great way to decide how you want to color is to find out how other people pick their colors. one way to do this is color picking studies, and another is to watch youtube videos like this one where an artist explains their personal thought process while choosing colors.

if you'd like to know how i, personally, go about picking my colors, i would be happy to make a separate post outlining my process! it would take a pretty long time, though, because a lot of my process is to not leave things alone until i'm satisfied with how they look

the thing about being a self-taught artist is that everyone tells you that the way to get better is to "just practice," but that's not the whole story! art is a skill you have to build, and i've found the most effective ways to improve are to do studies, and to learn how to spot your mistakes and problem-solve until you can fix them.

i hope this was a good way to get you started on learning how to internalize and apply color theory! the more you study, and the more you learn, the better your results will be

[blindeyeswideopen]

𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙳

“You are shaking.”

Eris glances over at his sibling, tired brown eyes like pools of darkness on his pale face looking upwards towards the other’s inhuman form. Eris himself looks like a ghost from a horror story, years of being stuck in a small room with little desire to take care of himself leaving him looking less like a nineteen year old boy and more a nineteenth century spectre haunting an old mansion. Dark brown hair is shaved to the skull, and dark circles create purple bruises that sink into the sockets of Eris’s skull.

It’s been a hard few days. The cycling red lights mixed with the confines of the server room do no favors to the picture that Eris paints. The alarm blares in the background, a stray dying screech of some bastard piercing the noise like a macabre bell, the only signs someone other than the monsters lives in these halls still.

The constant reminder that every death keel is a tick down on the list of survivors.

Eris rubs his eyes, exhaustion pulling at him even now, with adrenaline in his veins like a drug, keeping his heart pounding even as his vision greys out and noise fades into static.The next round of blaring alarms snaps him to attention.

“You are shaking.” Sol says again, long black fingers like void taken form curl around Eris’s hands, grasping his trembling digits in ones that he knows can kill. Bright white eyes with reptilian pupils glance over his face, fanged mouth twisted into a scowl.

“It’s cold.” Is all Eris can say to defend himself, to wave away the signs he’s close to collapsing where he stands. He’s not entirely lying. Ever since the main generators went down and the ones meant to keep the containment breach protocols running kicked in, the heating has been non-existent. The thin cotton clothes that the scientists insisted he wear have done nothing to keep the chill from sinking into his bones.

Sol frowns in the way they always do when Eris lies to them, confused and disappointed all in one. They never quite understand why Eris wouldn’t tell them the truth, not when Sol seems convinced that they are simply two parts of a larger whole.

Eris shoves the thought away with a grimace, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. Right now was not the time for him to get lost in memories nearly a decade old. He’s got far more to worry about than ghosts long gone.

He’ll never forget the feeling as men in hazmats suits shoved him into a white van, the feeling of WRONGWRONGWRONG writing itself into his bones as the woman in a suit with a gun tucked into her belt closed the front door, his twin screaming his name as the wood separated them. Eris wonders if the sound of the van doors slamming closed and his own screaming drowned out the gunshot, or if it was the pain as if his soul was ripped in half and the resulting darkness that was what kept him from hearing the cause of his brother’s death.

He pulls away from Sol, wiping at his nose absentmindedly, ignoring the taste of copper on his tongue. There’s no time to give a shit about a nosebleed, and it’s not like his skin isn’t already covered in blood and viscera.

You couldn’t take two steps out in the halls right now without slipping on a piece of person. Eris would have laughed if he had the energy to make a joke about the massacre happening outside the walls of the server room. Instead, he watches as Sol walks away to repair their defenses. Eris leans back in the creaky chair he’s sitting in, blood still dripping onto his shirt.

Sol throws another broken server in front of the door, the mangled electronics sparking feebly as they were added to the barricade with a crash. The server room itself had been the safe haven for Sol and Eris since they found it. An attached bathroom and a cabinet full of albeit unhealthy food, perfect for tech junkies who weren’t legally allowed to see the sun anymore.

Or two people trying to wait out a murder spree.

Eris turns around in the chair, bringing his attention back to the old computer he finds himself sitting in front of. Eris adjusts the old webcam on top to point towards his face, and in the corner of his eye, SCP-079’s new monitor flickers slightly.

Eris doesn’t pay the AI any mind. The old bastard is currently in “rest mode” which means nothing for a being that doesn’t actually need sleep. As far as Eris has deduced, it just means that It is going through the files It has access to in order to sort and save what It deems necessary. It was still getting used to having full access to the server room.

Eris smiles slightly, thinking of the joy 79 showed in Its new text-to-speech voice after being freed from the limited confines It had been stuck in for so long. Eris was rather proud of the fact that the sentient AI who had spent most of Its time hating everyone It talked to referred to Eris as a “True Friend”. 79 Itself wasn’t actually too bad to talk to, especially now that It had free reign on the advanced computer Eris had transferred It into

In contrast, the old thing that 79 used to live in was practically a scrap heap after so long. Still, it works if nothing else, so Eris plans to use his limited computer knowledge to try and get the device running again. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can play solitaire to ignore the situation he’s in.

Sol sits down next to him, their large head leaning against his shoulder. Eris leans back into the touch, feeling the warmth of his sibling against his side as the two of them stare at the screen.

A green light shines on both of them, and Eris glances up to see the red dot blinking on the webcam. He frowns, brows furrowed as he reads the white text.

“Hey 79?” Eris calls out, turning his head towards the AI’s monitor. There’s a quick flicker of light, and then the black and white face of the AI makes Itself visible.

“QUERY ACKNOWLEDGED. QUERY. WHAT REQUIRES ASSISTANCE.”

“Does ‘The Choir’ mean anything to you?” Eris asks, standing up and making his way over to the laptop 79 is contained in. “Can I move you over?”

That’s important, asking for consent. The first time Eris picked up the laptop without asking 79 for permission first It managed to screech at him with a surprising amount of volume. The resulting silence as Eris and Sol waited for the other SCPs outside to pass by wasn’t worth the slight adjustment Eris had wanted to make.

“QUERY ACKNOWLEDGED. PROCEED.”

“Thanks, 79.” Eris says softly, picking up the laptop quickly, tucking it face-out against his chest. The warm hum of It is enough to bring him some comfort in the cold room, the blaring alarms continuing mindlessly in the background. Eris is forever grateful that 79 told him how to destroy the speakers in the server room as soon as It did.

The red lights were somehow comforting, at least here in the server room. They didn’t flicker on and off like those in the hallway, illuminating the mangled corpses strewn about and highlighting black stains on the floor and walls that Eris knew were anything but.

Sol was poking at the computer screen, a disgruntled expression on their face.

“I do not like this.” They hissed, bright white teeth flashing in the dim red light. “Seems…off. Tastes weird.”

Eris placed 79 on the table next to Its old computer and rubbed at his nose, grimacing at the flakes of blood that came off onto his finger. The taste of Miasma filled the air around them, leaking in from the outside. All the death and pain like a physical smog seeping into everything it could reach.

Eris and Sol were both familiar with the taste of it, though neither enjoyed it much. It was less like a welcoming sensation and more akin to being starving but knowing the smell of cooking meat was human, and not beef. It made Eris feel like a junkie, chasing the nearest high.

He sways slightly, his body inhaling the scent of the Miasma far deeper than before at the reminder of its existence, his head turning foggy in the aftermath. It’s only Sol shoving the chair under him that prevents Eris from collapsing onto the floor as black fills his vision.

—------

He doesn’t know how long he’s out for, but 79 and Sol seem to be in the middle of a conversation while they wait for him to return to consciousness

“I’m awake.” Eris mutters, doing his best to save his dignity. 79 and Sol somehow share a look, but neither comments on his sudden faint. Both are far too used to it to be surprised at the phenomenon.

“OBSERVATION. PROGRAM UNKNOWN. SUGGESTION. ATTEMPT COMMUNICATION.” 79 cuts in, Its droning tone bringing Eris’s attention back to the matter at hand that he’d been attempting to figure out before he had blacked out.

Eris sits up, wiping his nose as yet another stream of blood trickles down his face. Iron sits heavy on his tongue, drowning out the sticky feel of Miasma in the back of his throat.

“We can try.” He mutters, pulling the yellowed keyboard closer to him and tapping the spacebar a few times. His hands hover over the keys for a second, brow furrowed. A drop of blood drips onto the plastic.

Finally, he types something down.

> 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘?

The three wait, the blaring alarm and hum of the servers behind them the only noise besides Eris’s occasional sniffle. And then-

> 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜! 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚢𝚎.

The light on the webcam turns a steady white.

(Sol, SCP-79, and Eris R̵̡̨̢̝̬͇͓̠̮̗̰̳̥̘̗̜̬̪̣͖͎̳͕͙̟͖̞̳͙͇͖̙͙͈̱̜̺̠̯̮͍̣͎͍̯̦͕̼̄̌̄ơ̷̛̌̀̿̎̈͂̈́̐̒͂̇͆͆̕͘͘͘̚͝��̧̩͚̱̺̰̘̻͚͔̠̮͈͍̼̤͇̮̜͇̩̣͔̫̳̩̥̥̗̭͙̱̥̘͚̙̲̬̰̯̙͖̠͈̗̖̞̿̀̋̎̎̉̎͌̎̋͋́̚͘͝͝͠g̷̺͇͕̖̮̭͙͇̖͍̼̈̕ͅȩ̷̢̡̡͙̹̩̙͍̘̙̞̠͇̱͓̬̹̪̗̯͚̲͙̩̦̪͉̮͔̜̱̲̰̙̱͍̣̲̍̀͛̋̌̑̀̈́͑̊͛̿̒̑̀̏̀̓̎́̏̅̈́͆̍̈́̚̚͠͝͝ͅͅr̴̢̛̛̛̛̯̬̻̰̼̣͖͙̻̬̗̖̓̍̅́̇͗̔̄̅́̐̈́̈́̋̈͛̑͗̿͛̉̈́͗́̒͋̾̄̾̔̐͊͂̌̆̆̅͠͝ş̶̡̧̨̬̲͖̜̱̬͉̹̳̞̩͕̖̭̝͓̬͈̭̰͙͈̯̻̜̤͈̮̺̞͉̣̯̳͎̹̪̖̭̯̹̞̖͖̖̔̄̋̄̽̍̊͐̍̈̿̓͜͜͝ͅͅ are availble for questions!)

[macnevercries]

You're Mine

Warnings- stalker/yandere tendencies, somnophilia, fingering, male masturbation, penetration, dubcon/noncon, squirting, breeding kink, etc

WC- ~1.7k

This is for @ultimate-astridwriting ‘s  Watch It Creep collab!! (thank you for letting me participate ily)

Dabi had never been one for shopping, going out in public just to have people gawk and point at him was never very appealing. He didn’t need new clothes, there was no one he wanted to impress. Except you. When you went shopping, he couldn't help but love it.

Your constant late night trips became his favorite time of the week. Every time you get new clothes you would blast your music and try on all different outfits with the new pieces you had just bought. Dancing and singing in the mirror, feeling yourself up. Watching you strip and pull clothes snug over your curves over and over never failed to get his dick hard.

On goes a pink tank top and low rise skinny jeans. You take off your bra and brush your nipples over the shirt, looking in the mirror to see them peek through the thin fabric covering your chest. Off goes that outfit, your flawless tits on display, perked by the touch of your own hands. You bend over to pick up a dress to try on, the black thong you wear riding up your ass and giving Dabi an ideal view.

He has a chair pulled up right in front of his window, the perfect view down to your apartment, directly across and down one floor from his. The buildings in your area are packed tight, no more than 10 or 20 feet between the both of you. He takes a seat, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his jeans as he hears your music blast even louder through the thin walls and small expanse of grass that separates your buildings.

He wishes he had a teleportation quirk, that he could hold you in his arms instead of desperately attaching himself to your vulnerable moments. So innocent, you never pull your blinds closed. He often wonders how an angel like you could exist so close to him, in his neighborhood, in his world.

His cock slaps against his stomach, coming to life when he glances up, seeing you peeling off a tight dress. If only it were his hands, his everything pressed up against you, guiding you in your dance while you grind back onto him, hips rolling against his. His rough and scarred hands pump up and down his cock, spreading the minimal precum, the pain of the dry tug spurring him on.

When he glances up from his lap you're putting your pajamas back on, leaving your room to go get ready for bed. Not to worry, he has more material to get off to. His eyes search his room, looking over the various photographs of you hanging on his walls. He’s taken many over time, mostly just normal pictures of you in your apartment or around the neighborhood. But even the most average photos of you entranced him. How could they not, you were just so beautiful.

His eyes run over the photo taped to his wall on the right. He has it placed right next to his window so he can see it when you walk into a different room in the middle of your “session”. The photo depicts you licking dripping ice cream off of your glowing skin on a hot day. Your face is a mix of innocent and erotic, your arms squished together slightly, pushing your breasts up through your low cut shirt. To Dabi this photo is not only perfect because it was captured at the right moment, it’s perfect because it's you.

He tugs harder at his cock, spitting on it roughly and imagining you on your knees for him. How you would wrap your hand around it, cup his balls, swirl your tongue on the tip paying special attention to his piercings all while keeping your eyes glued on him. How he would grab a fistful of your hair and shove your nose to his hips, feeling the contractions of your gagging throat hugging him just right. He’s panting in seconds, making eye contact with the photo one more time before spilling into his hand. He gives a few more pumps, milking himself. He leans over to his desk, wiping his hand off on the matted washcloth that lies there just for this, the one that hasn't been washed in weeks.

When he stands, he sees you walk back into your room with only a small towel wrapped around your body and a face mask, relaxingly flopping onto your bed with your phone. The sight is almost enough to get him going again but he restrains himself, after all he would see you later tonight.

--

Your door creaks, swinging open into your dark apartment. Dabi gets his lock picker from the door handle and shoves it in the pocket of his pants. He slips silently into your living room, he never stumbles, he knows your apartment like the back of his hand. How could he not when you're so obviously begging for him to come over? He has to listen to his baby’s needs.

Your room is down the hallway to the left, right across the bathroom and 14.6ft from your couch. Your room’s door is open, like always. He sits on the edge of your bed, the dip of his weight on the mattress making you roll slightly towards him. He reaches for your face, your skin so soft against his burnt hand. You stir slightly when he tucks your hair behind your ear and wipes the drool from your lip, but he knows you won't wake up, you never do.

Your blankets only cover one of your legs, you must have been too hot. But this is better for both of you because it gives Dabi a nice view of your night attire. Your legs bare, all the way up to your hips. Your unblemished skin begging to be marked by him. You always wear an oversized t-shirt, probably stolen from one of your many ex boyfriends. And only some nights do you wear panties. Dabi counts his luck as he slowly moves your sheets off of you, his breath taken away when he realizes tonight you aren't wearing any.

Your pussy glistens in the moonlight that filters in through your open window, you could never be bothered to buy curtains. Dabi can't resist the need to touch it, to touch you, to claim you. You were his, you just didn't know it yet.

His slender fingers slide through your folds, slightly pinching your clit to watch your pretty little hole twitch and clench at his touch. He slips one finger inside of you, it goes in easily with all of the slick that's gathered and begun to drip down to your thighs. You let out a small mewl when his finger curves to your g-spot, and he adds another for good measure. You never wake up though, you've always been a heavy sleeper.

But he needs you now, he wants you awake. So he kisses you gently, his mouth molding against yours with a softness he didn't know he was capable of. But soon need and lust take over. His soft kisses turn rough, teeth clashing and blood being drawn from your lip. You begin to wake up, he's causing too much commotion for you to stay asleep.

Your eyes blink open to meet his bright blue ones, panic beginning to set in your mind. You take a deep breath, preparing to scream for help but his hand is covering your mouth in an instant before you can even open it. He leans down to whisper in your ear with a gravelly tone.

“If you scream or make any noise, I’ll make sure you can never talk again”

His hand heats up just enough for you to know he’s not bluffing. All throughout his threats, his fingers never stop thrusting into you. Your tired mind is conflicted between fear and lust, you don't know which one to give in to. Your eyes widen and you nod, choosing to comply with him.

You let out a small moan, bucking your hips back against his hand. This causes the nastiest grin to spread across his face, his evil intent sparkling in his eyes.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod feverishly, your brain not thinking straight. Dabi lets out a low groan at your eagerness, palming himself through his jeans. He begins to unzip them, undressing both himself and you until your bare skin presses against his. The piercings on his cock sting your skin, so cold against your sex.

He kisses your neck, down to your chest and across your torso. “I'm gonna make you feel so good”

He aligns his cock with you, shoving in his entire length in one go. The wind gets knocked out of you, you're breathless as he begins to fuck you at an ungodly pace, never waiting for you to adjust. He murmurs sweet nothings into your ears, kissing you sweetly as if you were in love. Tears begin to fall down your cheek but he licks them away, he knows you want him.

He fucks you harder, curling his hips into yours. The piercings lining his cock drag against your walls so nicely, the previously cold metal beginning to warm up from your shared heat.

“I bet you like that, don't you slut? Prancing around in front of your window every day for me to see. You know what you do to me. Thats why we are where we are right now; me fucking your tight hole and you taking it like the good little bitch you are.”

You moan at his words, his cock bruising your cervix so nicely. His hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing fast and hard circles against your sensitive nub. Your entire body shakes, clear liquid squirting out of you all over him. You grip him like a vice, milking him with your orgasm. He moans loudly, spilling thick white ropes and fucking them into your womb.

“Yeah, you fucking take it, youre mine”

He slows down after a minute, pulling out only to shove his fingers back into your abused hole, keeping his cum safe inside of you.

“You better hold that, I’ll be back”

[youryanderedaddy]

The First Shot Is A Warning

Tw: Authoritarian Regime AU, female reader, Activist!reader, non - con, dub - con, violence, blood, minor character death, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, imprisonment, objectification, political dystopia setting, mention of drugs, unrealistic potrayal of left - wing totalitarianism

chapter i, chapter ii, chapter iii, chapter iv, chapter vi, chapter vii, chapter viii, chapter ix, chapter x, chapter xi

chapter v

A little more than half an hour had passed since your escape attempt had failed miserably, so now you were back in your room, sitting on the bed. Oscar was kneeling by it, trying to put a pair of plain white socks on your cold shivering feet. Everything about it made you feel sick – the pure whiteness, the sterile smell of new fabric, the way the authoritarian kept caressing your ankles, touching you carefully as if you were fragile, made of glass, just waiting to break into million tiny pieces. If the statist wanted to fix something broken so badly, your heart was a much better place to start. Ypu wanted to scream your pent up frustration out in his stupid handsome face, maybe tell him to fuck off and give you some personal space, but after the little stunt you had pulled not long ago, it was safer to shut up and sulk in silence.

“Do you still have a headache, princess?” Your captor looked up for a moment, and straight into your eyes. There was something pitiful in his gaze, a flashing sense of guilt in a forest of selfish accusations. You shook your head no, wincing at the nickname you once used to love on his lips, adore even. Only now did it come to you the implication of it – that in the general’s eyes you were just a spoiled child with stupid idealistic beliefs and in need of authority to push them back on the right path. Screw him, screw him, screw him and his stupid government. “You…” The soldier started off, reaching to take your hand into his own. You looked away, stiff fingers curling into a fist to escape the warm touch on your cold skin. You actually liked the cold, the sense of freedom that the rain, the snow and even the biting wind provided in the middle of the night. Something that felt forever lost in that big warm room. Too warm and never big enough to separate the two of you.

“Please don’t try to run away again. You will end up injured. The senate is full of people who wish for your death.” The man picked up once again, finally overcoming the distraction of attempting to read your thoughts on your stone motionless face, devoid of any type of hint. You gritted your teeth, an ugly bitter grin lifting the corners of your rosy lips up. “Death, huh? Really, Oscar?” You mocked, eyes once soft and sincere now full of nothing but spite. “I never thought you capable of genocide, but I guess I was wrong.” You spat out, jaw tightening as the hot anger you had drowned to the bottom of your mind bubbled yet again and finally spilled all over the place.

“That’s what you said in your little speech, didn’t you? It's what you promised. A brighter future with no bloodshed. A better future for everyone.” You whispered, suddenly reaching out to shake his shoulders, hoping that would bring his senses back in. “A new beginning.” You had been there on that rainy day, in Kah square in the center with you black hoodie on so you would mix in with the crowd. Back then you had let yourself be hopeful, and perhaps naïve too, because you had desperately wanted each honeyed word, falling so easily from Oscar’s lying lips to be true.

“Y/N, I swear I don’t want it to be this way either.” The authoritarian spoke out, voice tired and defeated. Like he had already had this conversation thousand times in the past, and he probably had. “I don’t want to kill everyone who opposes us, but I can’t…” The brunette gulped dry, trying to find the perfect words for the way he felt, all for nothing. No matter what he said he knew deep down that you would only see it as an excuse, as a justification for something horrible, something inhumane. A case of history repeating itself in the worst way possible. “I can’t really do anything.” He uttered at last, cheeks turning red with shame. It was one thing to do it, and entirely another to confess it out loud.

“The partisans think that this is the best way to go about it, and I can’t just disobey their orders. I aslo can’t stay out of the picture.” The general sighed – he could see you sneering, he was losing you already. “It’s my duty. My destiny in life is to fight for a better world, it has always been.” He said, his black orbs dilated, almost sparkling, overflowing with aspiration at the only thought that had kept him going in the first place when everyone else had turned their back on him. He could only hope you would see it the same way and finally understand why he did what he did. He had to.

“You chose this.” You asserted, voice cold and emotionless, low as hiss, collected. Not even trying to pretend or make – believe a feeling you couldn’t bother to create or fathom. “It was your decision to join them.” You observed, mercilessly pinning the full blame onto the authoritarian just like he had expected, which didn’t ease the sting in his heart. He wished he could taste the blood of your cherry lips on his tongue, instead of this awful sour aftertaste of chagrin. Hell, he should have bit the soft flesh himself. “But I didn’t choose to be here, just like the people you forced under your rule.” You glared at the man you had once called your friend (your lover?), boring a wide gaping hole into his soul. “You made it happen, Oscar. You led your army against thousands of innocent citizens to please your superiors.” You inhaled deeply, your whole body was shaking furiously.

“And the rebels too. You killed them, didn’t you? You promised me you wouldn’t, and it was a lie. That woman, Sophia, she must have wanted them dead, and you wouldn’t disobey a direct order even if it would eat at your conscience until the end of your little miserable life. I know you.” You blabbered on and on, curse after curse, having forgotten about the many dangers of provoking your captor. The only person who stood between you and those who wouldn’t hesitate before putting a bullet through your skull.

“I…” The soldier uttered, sweat forming under his brows. “It’s true that I did it, but I had to.” He rationalized, raising his voice to stop you from interrupting before he was done. He couldn’t really make up coherent sentences while you were still speaking, too entranced and hypnotized by the swing of your hips and the sincere emotion in your pupils. “There was no other way for me to put the fabric of our utopi –”.

“And was all this bloodshed worth it, S? Did your utopia make you happy?” You cut him off anyways, the silver arrow hitting the bull’s-eye right in the middle. You looked almost condoling now, pitying the sad pathetic man with your narrowed eyelids and that cruel, scornful, sad little smile on your lips you knew he couldn't stand. Oscar couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you so close you could hear his wild uneven heartbeat. The authoritarian claimed your lips in a sloppy wet kiss, all teeth, aggression and tongue, bruising and heavy, and so, so sweet after all those months of nothing, but black bitterness. Still you fought back, pushing at his chest with all the strength in your weakened body, but eventually gave up and melted into it, the nostalgia and the pain turning you light – headed, clouding your proper judgment. The lieutenant’s arms felt secure, familiar, it was your lover’s face, your lover’s mouth, but the words that spilled out of it belonged to someone else. Someone you could never love back.

“That’s why you’re here.” The monster snarled against your neck, just as animalistic in his love as he was in his hatred, and he wasn’t sure which feeling prevailed just yet. All he knew was that he wanted to devour you right here, right now. His prisoner, his love, his trophy. To prove you wrong, to prove you right, to do anything, everything to shut you up, just to show you that it wasn’t a smart move to drive a predator into a corner when your only weapon was your still bleeding, barely thumping heart. “To make me happy. To satisfy me the way no one else can.” The general purred as he painted your neck in painful love bites, marks of ownership, pathetic mockeries of kisses, all in blue, purple and red.

You choked on your sobs, and Oscar licked your wet cheeks, not even giving you the simple comfort of feeling the tears run down your skin, tickling it softly. You didn’t know what you were doing, what you were saying, sobbing out loud – you had driven the beast to the point of no return, to madness. There wasn’t coming back after that.

“Be mine, beloved.” The man demanded of you, his pretty little prey. Stuck on the bed with no way out, his right hand reached to undo the your bra and groping at the soft vulnerable flesh of your full breasts, toying with the rosy buds, exposed to his hungry eyes like a feast. All thoughts of revolution, war and injustice had evaporated into nothing, replaced by deep yearning to touch, feel and devour. “Love me, fear me, judge me with those big pretty eyes of yours, I don’t care.” The general muttered, tone usually strict now full of both endless tenderness and immense ferocity. “Just don’t leave my side.” Barely a breath.

His free hand tugged at the waistband of your plain white panties, scarlet blush adorning your sides at the sudden contact. “Don’t leave me to the nightmares again.” The sounds were getting quieter, needier. His long, slender fingers were slipping down, down, down until they were met with even more open flesh for them to explore. He bit at your collarbone, sucking on the sensitive sweet spot of your jugular and only letting go after a hideous bloody mark had formed. It felt like a dream, you had left your body long ago, you were simply watching it happen, and really participating in the transgression. You wanted to be numb again, or high, or too hot to feel any of his hot desperate touches. It made you feel dirty, dirtier, the dirtiest you’ve ever been. And then you felt the digits move inside of you – in and out, in and out in an almost robotic fashion.

The pain was bearable, but it was unending, burning, stinging. Your entrance was tight, and it clenched around the fingers (you weren’t sure how many there were anymore) that stretched it beyond the limits of comfort. And uncomfortable it was, because you genuinely wanted it to be. You wanted to be disgusted by Oscar's forceful affection, his oppressive love, his oppressive touch. You didn’t like the tingling pleasure underneath the repulsion and the fear. And you couldn’t even begin to process the reason why your heart tightened and fluttered each time the authoritarian stopped his act of violation to kiss you softly or to whisper words of reassurance, of adoration. All the slaps, followed by a flower apology.

“I love you, sunshine.” The general had moaned when he came, painting your plush naked thighs in sticky white, and you could vaguely remember wondering whether it was the truth or the blissful ramblings of a man living in the moment, fully possessed by lust. The soldier was insatiable, stealing even more than you thought you could give – he claimed your lips, your ankles, your stomach, your breasts. Had you in every position, in every corner of the room, until it smelt like nothing, but sex, sweat and violence. Until your tears left a permanent stain on his neck, and he could swear, although behind a curtain of shame, that it could become his favorite perfume as long as it was his alone, to put on and extract whenever he needed.

It was early into the night when the general finally felt like he had quenched his thirst, having drowned in the your soft, pliant,malleable body, having lost himself completely in your soft inviting flesh. You were both naked, laying down on the bed and breathing heavily, your eyes wet and puffy – just like two wounded animals. You were staring at the ceiling, static noises buzzing in your mind on full volume. Too bad you didn’t have the remove in hand or the will to stand up and turn it down. Oscar was silent, enjoying the quiet before the storm unfolded.

“Why did you leave me after the war?” You mumbled out of the blue, so close to falling asleep, yet clinging to the painful dread of staying awake. Your voice was monotone, but it was hardly a surprise. You could have laughed at the predictability of every event so far and your own reactions if your throat didn’t hurt so much. Or your lungs. It was a big, sad, miserable cliche.

You would have laughed if your body had allowed you to. You would have laughed if there was anything to laugh about at all.

“I wasn’t deserving of you back then.” The man replied in a static synchrony, closing his eyes shut tight shortly after. He didn’t want to hear the inevitable answer he already knew you'd spit out with poison, but he could already picture you saying it, screaming it. “How ironic, S”.

But much to his surprise you didn’t say anything.

[thornedrose44]

Prompt: "Do it. Take a chance, I'm begging you. You don't want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been."

Read on AO3

“What is it?” Kara huffed out, her frustration finally reaching critical mass.

“What’s what?” Alex replied, playing dumb by pretending to study the DEO’s monitors far too intently considering Kara had literally just dispatched the rogue villain of the week.

Kara crossed her arms, hip cocked forward slightly as she leant against the central console, blue eyes observing her sister's profile closely.

“Whatever you’re not telling me because you think it will upset me.” The superhero clarified bluntly, her social hesitation and uncertainty having dampened over the last few years.

She had learnt the hard way how important it was to never shy away from the truth and avoid speaking around the heart of the matter. It was a lesson she had absorbed completely, and it was one she refused to forget - needing to prove she had evolved, had bettered herself from the version that had required teaching in the first place.

“I’m not…” Alex refuted, shrugging dismissively but keeping her gaze trained forward, “There’s no-“

“Look, I’m asking you out of courtesy,” Kara cut in, “but you and I both know that I could just as easily ask Nia, and she would fold almost instantly.”

Alex grumbled irritably under her breath - Nia still had yet to build an effective resistance to Kara’s puppy dog eyes and this particular weakness had caused no small amount of trouble for Alex over the last five years.

“It is Lena related, right?” Kara checked, though it was completely unnecessary.

For Alex to actively try and keep a secret from her, it couldn’t be about anything else. And it had been more or less confirmed by her sister's reaction to her threatening to go to Nia.

“Just because I’m keeping a secret, doesn’t automatically mean it’s to do with Lena.” Alex tried, though the conviction behind her statement was weaker than wet tissue paper.

The redhead side-eyed her and Kara merely had to arch an unimpressed eyebrow in return for the DEO director to deflate.

“Okay maybe it’s a little to do with Lena.” Alex admitted with a wince, rubbing the back of her neck in defeat.

Kara threw her hands up in exasperation. “It’s been over five years, okay? I’m fine!”

Her bellowed declaration of stability, made the nearby DEO agents look over with a mix of curiosity and concern. Kara grimaced at the reaction and as such didn’t resist when Alex grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the central room and into her private office.

Alex turned to face her fully, lips pressed tight together and hands firm on her own hips (it had always annoyed Kara that Alex managed to make her signature superhero pose far more intimidating than her own attempts).

“Yelling I’m fine, definitely helps your case.” Alex retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kara had the good grace to look suitably embarrassed for a moment before launching into the same variation of the speech she gave every time there was a morsel of Lena news to be had. “I screwed up, okay? Big time screwed up - ‘regret it for the rest of my life’ screwed up!” Kara declared prompting a beleaguered sigh from her sister who knew the blatant lie that was coming next. “But I’ve made my peace with it. I won’t spiral into another depressive episode when I hear how happy she is.”

Alex shook her head, not even remotely convinced - not that Kara could blame her, the last time Alex had been pestered into telling her a Lena update, Kara had spent a weekend on a drinking binge that had successfully proven that there were limits even for a kryptonian.

“I don’t think-“ Alex began.

“What is it?” Kara demanded. “Is she getting another medal from the president?”

Alex shook her head, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Kara, you don’t want to know this.”

“Her and Kal save the world again?” Kara barrelled on, her lips curling into a jealous snarl. “The greatest Luthor and Super duo continue to make the world a better place?”

That particular news article had been printed and burned by Kara’s heat vision more times than she dared admit to anyone.

“Kara, please-“ Alex begged, expression crumpling as Kara relentlessly pushed.

“Tell me, I can take it.” Kara proclaimed, voice coming out high pitched and strained. “Is she dating someone again? Another famous actress? That Olympic male gymnast? What-“

“She’s getting married.”

A bomb must have gone off, Kara thought to herself.

A kryptonite bomb.

It was the only thing that could explain the ringing in her ears, and the way everything just… hurt.

A shard of kryptonite must have pierced her chest and cut her heart into jagged pieces. That was the only thing that could explain it.

“What?” She questioned, barely above a whisper. She didn’t quite recognise her own voice - it sounded shattered and unfamiliar. She also didn’t know what she was asking.

Didn’t know what ‘what’ was all about.

What just happened?

What did you say?

What post-apocalyptic reality are we living in now?

“Next week, she’s getting married.” Alex explained, giving Kara answers she no longer wanted. “Sam, Ruby, Kal and Lois are invited.”

She knew it should sting. Not being invited even though they hadn’t spoken in nearly five years. That she should feel something about the fact that Lena had omitted Alex, Brainy, Nia and J’onn as well - it further reinforced how Lena believed them to be Kara’s friends and never hers (which was one of the things Kara regretted most - how her poor treatment of Lena had infected and destroyed everyone else’s friendship with the youngest Luthor).

“To who?” Kara asked, tone cold, hollow… empty.

“Kara,” Alex murmured softly, reaching out to comfort her sister, “this clearly isn’t good for you.”

Kara jerked backwards so fast that the papers on Alex’s desk shot into the air, fluttering down around the sisters like snow.

“Just tell me!” Kara ordered, hands turned into white knuckle fists at her sides that would be capable of tearing through the strongest of metals. Her eyes heated but she managed to stave the fire in them as she glowered at her sister.

Alex slumped back, leaning heavily against her desk, running a frantic hand through her short hair. “Does it matter?” Alex muttered defeatedly, brown eyes filled with pity and sympathy as she stared up into Kara’s eyes.

“Of course it fucking matters,” Kara snapped in outrage before she had a chance to stop and think , “because it’s not me!”

The admission hung heavy and rotting between them. It wasn’t a revelation to either of them, though the fact that the intensity of Kara’s feelings hadn’t dampened despite the separation of half a decade was.

“Kara…” Alex breathed, standing back up and moving towards the blonde with the obvious intent of hugging her.

“I should get back to CatCo.” Kara mumbled, cheeks a fiery red with shame. She stepped hurriedly away from her sister and was already halfway out the door before she halted, turning back to call out a sad yet sincere. “Thanks for telling me.”

Xxx

“I genuinely don’t get why you love these films so much.” Lena remarked, hands cupping her just made cup of cocoa, nose adorably scrunched up as she snuggled back down on the sofa beside Kara, who didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her best friend’s shoulders.

“They’re sweet and romantic.” Kara replied with a happy sigh, turning to nuzzle into the side of Lena’s head for a fleeting moment as the film’s lead started her joyful march down the aisle. “It makes me hopeful.”

“Hopeful?” Lena repeated curiously, leaning away slightly so she could meet Kara’s blue eyes.

Kara shrugged, ducking her head bashfully, “It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Lena murmured gently, freeing a hand from her mug so that she could interlace her warmed fingers with Kara’s, “you could never be stupid, especially not about something like this.” Her best friend asserted, before asking seriously, “You want the classic big white wedding?”

“Uh…” Kara blushed, cheeks pinking as her mind struggled to kick into gear.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena that the reason she loved weddings more than any other event is because they so closely resembled Kryptonian Bonding ceremonies. That the exchanging of rings, polished everlasting metal, reminded her of wonderfully crafted bracelets clasped on wrists. That it was an occasion for family to join together across generations, for the rare flashes of art and music on Krypton to take centre stage over cold science.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena that after being alone, abandoned and lost - ripped away from her home in the cruelest of ways - that the idea of belonging to someone else, of having a home in someone else regardless of time or location was what Kara wanted more than anything else.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena because it would require admitting the truth of who she really was, it would require taking accountability for years of lies.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena without losing her forever.

“Yeah.” Kara coughed awkwardly, “I want the whole thing. Beautiful dress, surrounded by family… the love of my life at the end of the aisle. Everything.” She shot Lena a side-long glance, “I’m guessing you don’t?”

“Never really been my thing,” Lena admitted readily and Kara’s heart twisted at how Lena didn’t hesitate to bare herself, how she gave all of herself when it could be argued that Kara - at best - only gave half, “probably because I can’t imagine I have enough people in my life to invite and feel ‘surrounded’.” Lena pursed her lips thoughtfully, “I also don’t get the need for the spectacle. Just the idea that there’s someone out there that would want to…” Kara watched her best friend deflate, expression wistful and pained, “be with me, love me like that… that’s more than enough.”

Kara’s eyes stung with barely suppressed tears at how little Lena thought of herself. Whoever had the privilege of marrying her best friend would be the single luckiest and most fortunate person in the universe and Kara wished Lena knew that, wished she believed it. But when she opened her mouth to say it, to proclaim it, her breath faltered and her courage abandoned her… like it always did with the youngest Luthor.

“So no white dress?” Kara muttered instead, voice meek and lacking the lightheartedness that should have carried the question.

It didn’t matter, though, Lena let out a quick exhale that resembled something on the edge of laughter. Kara’s escalating heart rate settled at that, however, it did little to alleviate the pang of regret that was steadily accompanying all her interactions with the CEO.

“Well, I guess I could be convinced by someone special.” Lena teased, shooting Kara an overtly salacious wink that wouldn’t - on the surface - be considered genuine.

“Anyone that marries you will have to be special.” Kara replied, the statement tumbling out instantly.

It wasn’t the heartfelt confession that Kara wished it to be and it wasn’t quite light enough to be dismissed as a friendly reassurance. Instead, it was yet another thing that fell into the ethereal greyness that lied between them, something to tuck away and think back on late at night when they tried to work out if the other meant it the way they wished they did.

“Yeah?” Lena whispered, piercing green eyes studying Kara’s face closely.

Kara swallowed thickly, “Yeah.”

Xxx

Lena found out less than six weeks after that movie night. They defeated Lex and Kara had been on the edge of breathing easy, of being able to simply relax back into her life when it all came crashing down.

They had been at Games Night and Kara had been antsy, waiting for her best friend to arrive. The thought of pulling Lena into a hug had been what she had been looking forward to most all day.

Kara was at peace, laughing and drinking with her friends - her family - when Lena had arrived. Kara had beamed up at her immediately and for a second Lena’s entrancing green eyes lit up in return before turning dark and distant.

Kara’s smile faltered, crinkle appearing between her brows when-

The wine bottle smashed into the wall behind Kara’s head.

Deathly silence fell over the area.

Kara looked into hollow, emptied out versions of her favourite green. She would have preferred anger, fury, rage… the defeated nothingness staring back at the Kryptonian was far worse.

Lena turned and left, grinding Kara’s heart to dust and taking the sand particles left with her.

She knew.

She knew because Lex had told her.

She knew because she had gone to stop her brother, intent on saving the world like always only to find out that those she was saving the world for didn’t view her as their equal. That the people she treated as family had kept her on the outskirts. That her best friend had lied, had manipulated, had-

xxx

It was Lois that found out everything from Lena.

When the fallout had happened, as Kara and the Superfriends realised what they had lost, the blonde hero sent notice to her cousin that his identity was probably known as well (mostly because she remembered how hurt she had been when Kal shared her secret without her consent). Kal and Lois had arrived almost immediately, frantic and terrified (especially with baby Jon to consider) at the concept of a Luthor knowing their identity.

Kara, joined by all the Superfriends, quickly put their minds to rest, sharing Lena’s actions from before, her dependability, kindness and inherent goodness. Kal and Lois were convinced their secret was safe but they were horrified to hear how Lena had been isolated and kept at arms length after her considerable good deeds. Alex and the others had squirmed uncomfortably and tried to weakly talk around their hesitancy.

Kal and Lois had simply looked at Kara for an explanation but she had none. Yet again the words would not come.

It was Lois, therefore, that had sought out the youngest Luthor and through her incredible tenacity was able to gain access where everyone else was rebuffed and harshly rejected.

It was Lois that comforted Lena, gave her support and sympathy.

It was Lois that relayed Lena’s demand that they give her space.

It was Lois that suggested Lena return to Metropolis - presenting it as a way to celebrate how L-Corp, after Lena’s repeated sacrifices and heroism, was fully rehabilitated and ready to reclaim its once home.

It was Lois that encouraged Lena and Kal to work together becoming an unstoppable force that Kara and Lena had always danced on the precipice of.

A Luthor and a Super. Saving the world.

xxx

Kara did as asked. Gave Lena space. Or at least the semblance of space.

She checked in constantly, hovered nearby throughout the days and nights leading upto L-Corp’s departure and Lena along with it. She followed Lena’s jet to Metropolis, a sentinel ensuring safe passage.

She kept her distance for three months. Three months of stony silence before she broke.

Snapped, more like.

Landing on Lena’s new balcony in Metropolis that had been specially built for Superman this time - not for her, though Kara, at the time, had hoped that she had been considered consciously or unconsciously as well.

Kara couldn’t remember the exact words.

She remembered crying from beginning to end.

Remembered ‘I loved you’ - past tense.

Remembered finally breaking through Lena’s cold, hardened shell to the raw, bleeding wound hidden underneath and regretting it almost immediately.

Remembered how seeing Lena’s agony was worse than kryptonite, worse than watching Krypton burn…

Remembered Lena saying she needed time to heal, for Kara to stop hovering nearby - because she knew, she sensed Kara’s presence even without seeing her once - and to give her time to stop thinking of Kara and feeling only pain when she did so.

Remembered promising to do just that.

Remembered a timer starting to count in her head - the seconds that she would be condemned to purgatory.

Remembered the hope that just refused to go out - the hope that whispered give it time, give it time, give it time with every beat of her heart.

Remembered thinking that given enough time Lena would reach out and they would get the chance that Kara had almost destroyed for them.

Remembered flying zig-zagged and dangerous to Alex where her endless stream of tears returned to full flow as she sobbed into her sister’s shoulder using words and phrases like ‘heartbroken’ and ‘I love her’ and ‘I can’t survive this pain’ and ‘what do I do?’ and ‘I can’t breathe’.

Remembered a hollowed out shell of Kara Danvers moving through the motions for a year, for two, three, four… five...

Remembered taking up drinking to excess whenever she saw Lena’s life flourish and grow - not because she didn’t want Lena to be happy, that was what Kara wanted and wished for more than anything - because she wasn’t there with her for those life-changing events.

Remembered Alex and Kelly’s worries growing with each occurrence, intervening more and more to such a degree that they encouraged Kara to consider AA meetings - she did eventually, and found destroying entire junkyards to be a healthier coping mechanism, external destruction rather than internal.

Remembered Brainy at the behest of Alex, setting up Kara’s phone and computer to prevent searching for any keywords affiliated to Lena and to alert Alex if Kara ever managed to stumble upon a news article.

Remembered listening to Kal and Lois skipping large parts of stories where it was clear that Lena was involved - it was nice in some way to know Lena was getting the credit she deserved, but it hurt when Kal’s stories started to involve gaps at Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year (events that made Kara’s loneliness even more acute and her longing intensify).

Remembered her life without Lena.

Remembered regret and guilt and loss.

Remembered-

“She’s getting married.”

xxx

Kara shouldn’t have been there. Shouldn’t be anywhere in the vaguest vicinity of where she currently was.

The bride was dressed in a simple silky white shift, sipping intermittently from her champagne glass as she stared contemplatively up at the designer white dress hanging off the door in front of her. Raven locks were pinned up, so tight and intricate that it made Kara wince sympathetically at how it must tug and pinch at the bride’s scalp - she’d always preferred it down, loose and curling… soft and inviting. The bride’s make-up was artistic with a dramatic edge that would captivate but made her look… not like herself in Kara’s opinion.

Or maybe after five years it made Lena look more like herself - the version of herself she had become once free of Kara and all the pain she brought into her life.

She was hovering outside the dressing room window, trying to work out how far she was willing to take this. If it would be better to leave without saying anything, to try and leave some part of Lena’s life unspoiled.

It was the fear that she had always given into when she was best friends with Lena that made her decision for her. Like speaking her truth and learning to ask for what she wanted - Kara had also promised herself that she would never allow that bone deep fear to stop her ever again.

The window was open and it was as good an invite as Kara was ever going to get.

“Lena?”

The beautiful bride-to-be jerked in her place, champagne glass nearly tumbling to the floor but saved at the last second.

She didn’t turn around for a beat… then two…

Kara was just about to escape back through the window when Lena exhaled slowly and pivoted round to meet her.

“Kara?” Lena breathed out, green eyes closed off and wary.

The kryptonian studied the love of her life for a moment, taking in every little detail - soaking it all up as if accepting that this would be the last time she might ever get to see it again. That the timer that had counted past five years would stop after this moment, the hope powering it gone forever.

“Don’t marry them, please.” Kara requested, no flowery language, no build up. Just the honest truth.

“What?” Lena’s jaw dropped and the champagne glass didn’t survive the second shock, crashing to the ground - released by trembling fingers.

“Don’t marry them.” Kara repeated, uncaring of how the carpet below them soaked up the amber liquid.

Lena’s expression flitted through an array of emotions before settling on indignant rage, “And why the hell not?!”

Kara didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, instead she stood taller, the crest of her super suit catching the early afternoon light. “Because it should have been me. It still should be me.”

Lena scoffed in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. Now? You’re doing this now?”

Kara pursed her lips, fighting back the regret that always came with the reminders of countless missed opportunities. “Yes.”

The straightforwardness of Kara’s answers seemed to be throwing Lena, leaving her wrong-footed, clearly expecting the blonde to talk around and hint and imply like she used to.

But Kara had learnt. (The lesson had been too painful not to.)

“You had years, Kara!” Lena argued, “Years where I…. I threw myself at you. Practically begged you to love me… to trust me…”

“I know.” Kara replied sadly, wanting desperately to reach out when Lena’s pretty green eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. “I know. But I’m here now.”

“I don’t want you to be.” Lena muttered, arms crossed over her chest and head ducked downwards to hide her expression.

“I know that too.” Kara assured, fingers twitching with the desire to make contact, to comfort and coax - even after all these years her body remembered, the pathways of hardwired instinct related to her best friend were still there, still active even if temporarily closed for service.

“Then why are you here?” Lena murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Lena’s head snapped up at that, green eyes like saucers.

Kara’s single biggest regret was that she had never said those words to Lena before, had alluded and pointed at them during their final interaction but had never outright said them. And Lena had deserved to hear them then and deserved to hear them now to forever vanquish the doubts that had always been with her.

“Because I’m in love with you and we didn’t get our chance.” Kara affirmed, taking a half step closer to the bride, her red heeled boots and Lena’s bare feet meaning the younger woman had to tip her head ever so slightly back to maintain eye contact. “We didn’t get our chance because of me. Because I was afraid, I was so afraid of losing you. Of doing even the slightest thing that could mean you weren’t in my life. And in the end every action I took out of fear of losing you ensured just that. I’ve spent five years without you, Lena, and I can’t bear a single day more.”

“Kara,” Lena whispered, “I’m getting married.”

“I know.” Kara smiled sadly before adding, “Don’t.”

“What are you suggesting? Seriously?” Lena sighed, shaking her head mournfully and Kara knew she was losing her then.

“I’m suggesting that we have our chance now before it's gone forever.”

Gathering the small amount of courage Kara had left, she tentatively let her hands nudge forwards, brushing against Lena’s cool, pale fingers. That small contact was everything. Made it easier to breathe, made the colours of the world more vibrant, made everything just more.

“I let fear hold me back from the person that made me happiest in the entire universe and I won’t let it hold me back again.”

“Kara…” Lena whimpered, glancing back over her shoulder at the closed door that her wedding dress was displayed on, though she didn’t pull her hand away from Kara’s touch, didn’t flinch or retreat.

“Do it.” Kara pleaded, stepping across that final slither of distance between them, her forehead leaning forward to rest gently against the side of Lena’s, “Take a chance, I’m begging you. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.”

Lena inhaled shakily, head returning to forward facing - foreheads pressed against one another, breathing in the same air - and then… and then…

Lena’s hands slipped fully into Kara’s, fingers intertwining together.

[miyagihawk]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062



The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

[tiredb0igivemesugars]

Cold basement floor

Summary: Y/n is taken hostage

📝Words📝: 1.7K

⚠️Warnings⚠️: detailed mentions of stabbing and pain. Knives, smoking and burns.

💙Pairing💙: none. Tony Stark as Y/n's father

📎Note📎: I know this is a lot different from my usual stuff but I still wanted to post this one, hopefully you won't think too ill of me after this

The big metal door swung open and then closed, the loud noise startling you. You weren’t actually sure if the door was metal since you couldn’t see but it sure sounded like it. A pair of heavy boots walked on the concrete floor. That you were sure of, you had felt the cold and wet concrete floor yourself. You shook out of coldness in the room. The cold shackles on your wrists and ankles kept you from moving along with making sure you got deep cuts on your skin from the edges. You had no idea how long you had been gone. You just knew you were starving. You heard the same broken water pipe dropping droplets of water on the floor, forming a puddle. The larger the puddle got, the deeper the sound was. You had momentarily considered drinking from the puddle, but decided against it once you deducted that you couldn’t reach it.

The man with the heavy boots walked around the room, his steps echoing throughout the room. The sounds from his steps echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls. They had blindfolded you, at least that was what you thought. The chains on your arms weren’t long enough for you to touch the blindfold but you could still feel the soft material wrapped around your head, covering your eyes.

A chair was dragged across the floor, a screeching sound now echoing in the room. The man sat down on the chair. ”Y/n now was it?” He asked. You heard as he pulled something out of his pocket. A lighter. Suddenly the room smelt of cigarettes. He was smoking. His mouth made wet noises as he sucked on it. The ashes made the quietest sound when they fell on the floor beneath him. You didn’t answer his question, trying to pay attention to every sound in the room and possibly outside of it. The direction of the wind changed. You felt it as the wind grazed upon your exposed upper arms. ”Your dad is not paying the ransom money,” the man said. His voice was rough, raspy even. He had no foreign accent so he wasn’t hydra. He sounded slightly surprised, like he tried to make conversation with you about the fact.

You listened as the man shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable in the position he had chosen for himself. ”You probably have no idea how long you’ve been here,” the man suddenly said. That he was right about. ”Three days. Three days without food or water. That does something to a person,” he continued. He stood up and began walking around the room. His steps became further away before they came back, this time closer. So much more closer. You pressed yourself against the cold wall, desperate to get away from him. The dust and pieces of rock from the wall dug themselves into your skin, making you feel uncomfortable. ”You see. Now when your dad isn’t paying up, we get to have all the fun we want,” he said. His voice so much closer. Closer than ever. You could even feel his breath on your skin. He blew smoke into your face. You coughed at the repulsive smell. There was a sudden pain in your forearm. A burning pain. You bit your lip, trying to not give in to the temptation to scream as the pain worsened.

The man suddenly yelled something to his accomplices, startling you. The metal door banged again. At least two other people came into the room. The sounds of their steps echoed in the room, fast and determined. Pairs of hands grabbed your shackles. ”No no please stop,” you begged. You trashed against their firm hold, ”no please don’t hurt me,” you begged. The cold metal against your skin was gone, now a hand was laid against your scalp, pulling on your hair. ”Let’s go,” a deep voice said and pulled you up by holding onto your hair. You cried out in pain. He began pulling you forward, out of the room. Your feet barely touched the ground as the man pulled on your hair. The cement was freezing cold against your bare feet as you were dragged out of the room. The hallway was filled with different noises. The sounds of different machines running and people screaming in agony. You too, screamed in agony as you were pulled into another room. You felt another pair of cuffs getting tied around your wrists, then suddenly, you were hanging from the ceiling. You panted, anxious for what was to happen next.

The number of steps had been reduced to one pair. Another cigarette was lit. ”Now,” the familiar voice said. It was the same man from before. ”We’re gonna have fun,” he stated, sounding ominous.

You breathed in deeply, trying to embrace yourself for whatever it was that was about to happen. You could hear a cart being wheeled towards you. The wheels screeched and screamed in pure agony. The man hummed a song as he touched every object on the table. Something thin made of metal. A big machine with the outer layer being plastic and lots of switches. A small plastic object with some glass on it. The man suddenly grabbed an object, it slid against the table as he took it in his hand. He took steps around the room, like dancing. His humming became louder and clearer. It was no melody you recognised, although somewhat familiar. He seemed to have stopped in front of you, there couldn’t have been more than five inches between his nose and yours. His breath smelled foul, the occasional hint of nicotine mixed with whiskey and something rotten. He licked your cheek before spitting on your barefoot. He smacked his lips together. ”Sweat, tears, dirt and maybe a hint of blood,” he spoke in a calm matter. You shuddered as the chills ran down your spine.

He pressed an object against your stomach. ”Do you have any idea why you’re here?” He asked. You could now tell that the object was a knife. Its sharp point was pressed against your skin, only the thin fabric of the open-back hospital gown separating it and you. You chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide your fear. ”I- I have no clue,” you answered. You wanted to make a joke, ease the pressure in your chest but you couldn’t. The fear that came with losing one of your main senses was too powerful. It kept you in check, woke you up to the reality that you had no idea what was going on. You had no idea what was to happen next. You could hear him breathe. Feel how the small air current changed with each of his exhales and inhales.

This room. This place you were in, had been in for three days, was his kingdom. He was in absolute control. You were powerless, like an animal in a cage at his mercy.

”You’re here as a paper we’re going to write the message onto. You can tell your dad that he messed with the wrong people,” the man whispered as he pushed the knife into you. You could feel your skin split as the sharp object was pushed further into you. It burned. You were on fire as you screamed. The pain was excruciating as it spread throughout your body. Over and over again, he sunk the knife into your skin and dragged it in every possible direction to inflict the most pain possible.

Once the pain in your body and throat became too much, you fell limp. Your mind was now up for rent. Owners from before had gotten their deposit back and now new inhabitants were to move in. Yet, no one hauled their sofa and dining table in through the doorway that was just a little too small. As minutes went on, you failed to react or really even register what was happening anymore. None of it mattered, you didn’t care. This pain that was being inflicted upon you was too much, why be around to feel it?

Eventually, it came to a halt. He stopped digging the sharp blade into you. The cart made a loud noise as he threw the knife back on it. ”Like a Christmas present,” he whispered in your ear, his rough hand caressing your wounds.

Tears escaped your eyes as you hung there, chest rising and falling as you failed to fully re-enter your body. His hands stopped roaming your body as he took a step back. The screeching noise of a chair being pulled filled your barely conscious mind. He seemed to sit back down, unmoving. Eventually, he moved. He moved and began humming the same tune from before. He grabbed the knife from before and you braced yourself for more pain. But when no pain came your breathing eased just the lightest amount. Yet, still, you hung there, from the ceiling on hypervigilance. This seemed to go on for hours. The man just humming the same tune over and over again as he sat there, most likely watching you.

There was a loud crash. It startled you as it seemed to do the same to the man. He pushed himself off the chair and hurried out of the room, yelling orders. You felt relieved upon hearing the loud sirens of the security system. Finally, you were going to be released from your nightmare. You listened as guns went off and people screamed, crying tears of happiness when you heard every metal door being opened systematically. Blood pumped into your ears as you listened to the nearing sounds of the doors opening. The hinges of the door creaked and you sighed in relief. ”Hold on, I think I got something,” the familiar voice of Steve Rogers aka Captain America spoke. ”Hello?” You called out once you heard no movement. ”Y/n?” Steve’s voice asked, confused and concerned. You cried out in relief. ”Can you please help me?” You pleaded, hearing how desperate and raw your own voice sounded. You heard Steve’s steps as his feet came in contact with the cold and damp floor. His hands undid your shackles before lifting you to carry you. You sighed in relief as your head fell on his shoulder. You felt the rhythm of his steps as he walked. The sounds of the fighting had stopped, feeding into your relief that yes, your nightmare was in fact, over.

”I’ll help you. Always will,” a voice said. Your blood halted. It wasn’t Steve’s voice.

[unwrittenlibrary]

when my time comes around (lay me gently in the cold, dark earth)

summary -> bucky wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man.

words -> 1.4k

warnings -> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, dealing with said death, religious themes, google translate russian (roughly translates to love of my life) spoiler he doesn’t come back to life

notes -> sometimes… when you’re stressed, you write angst. after this piece it will most likely be awhile as i focus on much longer pieces i desperately want to finish. title from work song by hozier….love of my life…. hozier if ur out there im free everyday for u

— ➶ —

It’s like cold has washed over you permanently. Which, well, which is a sick sense of irony when you think too hard about it.

He was here one minute and gone the next. Bucky was here, laughing by your side and pulling you close to press kisses against your cheeks one day and the next you were falling to your knees with Sam’s arms trying to hold you up.

How could he just leave? Just die?

It’s like ghosts are phasing through you over and over and over again. Flashes of cold mixed with burns that leave your skin tingling.

How could Bucky leave you?

“Promise me.” You whisper into the night. Bucky’s hand is intertwined with yours. So tight you think you may lose circulation but you don’t care. “You and me. Forever.”

“I promise.” Bucky’s knuckle grazes your cheekbone. You lean into his touch. “Nothing is keeping me from coming home to you, my love.”

Did a promise count as kept if he came home in a casket?

His funeral is on a Friday in the middle of fall. Leaves are brown, orange, red and scattered across the grass you walk across. They crunch under each step, you grimace every-time. Sam’s hand is intertwined with yours, Sarah and her boys trailing behind you two.

You don’t listen to what anyone says. All you can think of is Bucky not being the one by your side.

“Bucky’s fiancée is going to say a few words.” You think it’s odd that you’ve gotten a priest. Bucky had been through so much, what person comes out the other side believing in a just God who put them through hell? “Please.” He steps aside, your train of thought cut short.

“What do you think happens when you die?” Bucky asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him. “Do you… Do you believe on heaven?”

You turn to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you?”

“I don’t know.” He won’t look at you. Bucky’s eyes are stuck to your ceiling fan as his fingers tap anxiously against his stomach. “Even if I did, I don’t think I’d be there.”

It’s a small crowd. You supposes that’s not surprising. Those who knew Bucky before Hydra were dead, Steve was gone. T’Challa is here though. Shuri too. Grim looks on their faces as they come to stand beside Sam while you step forward to make your speech.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. The speech you’ve written is held so tightly in between your fingers that it rips. You flinch at the sound a jarring reminder that Bucky had always been the one to unravel your tightly wound fists when the stress became too much. That he would no longer be able to do so.

Who would now?

Your eyes trail over the casket, an American flag draped over it, and you laugh. A hysterical fit of laughter that has people looking around uncomfortably.

“How does a man live through one of the worst wars the world has even seen just to…” You trail off. Tears are burning in your eyes and you can’t care enough to force them back. “Bucky Barnes was a good man. He wanted to right his wrongs in the world.”

You crumple the pre-written speech up entirely. “He wasn’t perfect. He… He never made his side of the bed. He always left his shoes lying around for me to trip on. Then laughed about it,” you smile grimly at the memory.

“Bucky!” You groan as you cradle your knee close to your chest. You can feel the throbbing pain of what no doubt will be a gigantic bruise across you knee cap.

He looks over his shoulder from the couch to stare at where you’ve fallen in the entry hallway. You glare as amusement dances in his eyes. “Yes, любовь всей моей жизни?”

“Don’t try and sweet talk me.” You can’t stop the smile as you climb to your feet. “It won’t work. How many times have I told you to put your shoes away? I didn’t build the shoe rack for nothing.”

Bucky laughs brightly. He walks over to you with a big smile that you know will kill your anger within minutes. “Brat.” Your murmur as his arms wrap around you.

You glance down at your feet. “He didn’t believe in separating colors so our laundry always had color bleeds.” You swallow thickly. “He broke promises. He… He was supposed to come home. He promised to come home.” Your voice is choked up and tears stream down your cheeks.

“But he was good.” You force out. “He once asked me if I believed in heaven or hell and I… I still don’t know the answer,” you glance at the priest, who just looks at you with pity, “but I do know Bucky was good to his core and whatever there is after death, he’s in a good place. I hope you all find comfort in that.”

As you step back into Sam’s space, soldiers step forward. It had been Sam’s idea to give him a veteran’s honor funeral.

You can’t say thank you when they hand over the folded flag because your legs give out underneath you. It’s like the flag being placed in your hands made it all official.

You crash to the ground, the leaves screech underneath your knees and the wet grass soaks through your black clothing but nothing matters. Not when Bucky was being lowered six feet into the ground and you were still waiting for it all to be a joke.

“Breathe.” Sam says softly as he kneels down beside you. It’s impossible though, all that comes out are choked breaths and sniffles as you clutch the flag close to your chest. “You’re okay. Breathe.” He tries again, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

“Marry me.” Bucky blurts. It’s three in the morning and you should both be asleep, but it was hard when each episode ended on a cliff hanger. You laugh, and Bucky shakes his head with a smile. “I’m serious, marry me.”

Your heart nearly stops. “W…What?”

“I was going to,” Bucky rummages through his nightstand drawer as he speaks, “do this later. At dinner or the park, but this… This feels right - ah hah! - So, marry me?”

He turns to you with a ring in hand. Your mouth falls open in shock while he grins smugly.

“любовь всей моей жизни.” Bucky murmurs when you don’t respond right away. There are small ticks of nervousness, the way he vibranium fingers clench and unclench or the small smile that overtakes his smug grin. “Marry me?”

Like you would ever say no.

You visit all the time. Your therapist says however you want to grieve is okay. Nobody can judge you, but you can sense visiting him everyday doesn’t help you move on. Could you ever really move on though? Bucky was a piece of you, a part that you would never get back.

“I miss you everyday.” You whisper. “Not a day goes by that I don’t wake up and for a brief second look for you then realize…” You fiddle with the ring still on your left hand. “I’m doing better though. I… I’m working again. Sam and I go out to dinner once a week. I’m trying. I know you would’ve wanted me to try, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“I love you.” You say softly. “любовь всей моей жизни.”

You stand hastily wiping the tears off of your cheek, the metal now glaringly absent from your hand.

All that’s left of Bucky Barnes is a headstone surrounded by flowers, a flag and a diamond ring.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Here Lies James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Sergeant 107th

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WWII

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Prisoner of War

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Beloved son, brother, friend and partner.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Not perfect, but good.

— ➶ —

notes -> this is bad i’m just bleh. i forgot how rough school and work was because i was lucky enough to not have to work last semester. have a safe week 💗

[misc-headcanons]

Yay, requests are open! Also, congrats on finishing another year of school! May I request headcanons for X Drake, Jack the Drought, and King the Wildfire falling in love with a local Wano woman (how they would react to falling in love, confessions, that sort of thing). Have a great day and stay healthy ^.^

(Ooh, my first Jack and King request ever :D Hopefully I don't fuck up their characters, I'm just quickly browsing through their OPWiki pages just for a refresher on them lol)

TW: some slightly yandere content (for Jack and moreso King's sections)

X-Drake

THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE MISSION. He knows how dangerous it would be for her if he pursued her so he'd try to keep his feelings suppressed. He wouldn't be able to completely keep her out of his mind though, so he'd compromise with himself by watching over her from afar. Any danger or trouble that comes to her town always manages to avoid her home specifically. Is there a shortage of food? X-Drake's crew makes sure there's enough for her and her family. As much as he wants to help the whole town, he can't afford to draw suspicion by being too charitable as one of Kaido's crewmates.

She might notice him watching her from afar and he would be so flustered, lol. Like he'll whip around and walk away in a nanosecond and continue doing whatever he was doing, but now he's got a bit of pink in his cheeks. If she started approaching him more often or leaving him notes or something at a distance, he'd be hesitant to return those affections just because he doesn't want to drag them into danger.

In the end though, I think that he wouldn't be able to separate himself from her entirely. He has a sense of chivalry and he thinks that it isn't fair to do that without at least telling her why. He'd arrange to meet with her in private since he doesn't want to just leave a note for her, but the moment he's finally in a room with just her, seeing her look up at him...he can't do it. He can't leave her. He'll confess his feelings and then tell her that he understands if she doesn't return them or doesn't want to be with him due to how dangerous it could be. And if she insists on being with him regardless of that, he'd make sure he keeps her safe and vows to protect her for as long as he draws breath.

He's such a gentleman that it hurts lmao. Flowers, holding doors and chairs out for her, politely averting his gaze when she's even slightly undressed (seriously, she could be in a kimono with bare shoulders like Black Maria's and he'll bite his cheek and look away to give her "privacy") He also dislikes whenever she's around other pirates and tries to distance her from his business unless he can't avoid it. Also the first time they kiss is THE most romantic thing ever; he even does that thing where he brushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and dips her back a little bit while holding her when he goes in to kiss her. It's probably done in the moonlight, he's caressing the small of her back, it's straight out of a storybook.

Jack

Jack is someone who's easily angered and who will rampage if pushed further. I think that he feels all of his emotions in an intense way, so when he falls in love he falls pretty damn hard. Once he sets his sights on ____ he's going to immediately try to court them.

He's been in Wano for a while and knows what's typically expected of someone trying to show their feelings/intentions, so he'll send her letters and small gifts for a while before inviting her to meet with him one evening so he can formally propose to her. I HC that Wano's views on romance and marriage are a mix between Heian and Edo-era customs of courtship, so things move to marriage pretty quickly by modern standards. He'll offer a VERY sizeable dowry to her family in exchange for their blessing, and since she'd be marrying one of the Tobi Roppo they know she'll be living very well.

If she or her family refused, though...Jack won't take no for an answer. He'll simply return the next day, take ____ over his shoulder, and if she protests he'll threaten to have her family imprisoned with a life sentence for treason. In his mind she should be happy he's even leaving them alive after rejecting his generous offer.

If she and her family DO accept, he's very happy and makes sure his wife and in-laws are cared for. His wife would move in with him at Onigashima, and her family would never have to worry about anything financially ever again (and in Wano, that is a very rare blessing). He'll spoil his wife with all sorts of finery and anything she'd like, and he's also more affectionate than you may think when in public; he'll always have her on his shoulder or even on one of his tusks if he isn't carrying her bridal style, lol. And in private, he's such a teddy bear: nuzzling her neck and cheek with his fingers (he might hurt her with how wife and obtrusive his tusks are otherwise), holding her close while she lays on his chest, picking her up and lifting his mask to kiss her properly, etc.

King

King's described as a ruthless, cold-blooded, "torture-loving pervert", so catching his eye is NOT good. He doesn't express romantic interest the same way most people do, so his s/o may not even realize he has feelings for her. He tends to stare at her a lot but since he's completely covered by his suit, she probably doesn't even realize he's staring at her specifically. That's the closest he really gets to showing how he feels about her at this stage.

He'll skip the dowry and just arrive to her house to personally inform ____ that she's to pack her things and come with him so he can have her as his bride. If she resists or refuses, he just goes outside and kills the nearest person he sees before telling her that unless she wants to get another one of her neighbors killed, she'll do what he says and come with him.

If she agrees without any trouble and comes with him, he's a bit kinder (as much as he can be, lol) and orders his men to help move her things to his home. He also provides her family with a proper dowry as a wedding gift and makes sure his wife is well cared for in his home. Her wardrobe contains fine silks, jewelry made from jade and Sea Prism Stone, and he'd even give her gifts based off of what she likes or is interested in: books, plants, instruments, etc.

He gets more affectionate and open after the wedding as opposed to any time before it. The suit keeps him from kissing her directly most of the time (maybe he can take it off? We don't know much about his race so maybe he's stuck in there lol) so he prefers to put his covered mouth against hers or brush his fingers over her lips. He'll also embrace her with his wings whenever he hugs her, which he ONLY does in private--if someone sees the two of them being affectionate, they're lucky if they make it out alive.

[lost-in-the-80s]

It’s So Easy

Pairing: Axl Rose x fem!reader

Words: 1,908k

Requested by: @teasid​ I hope you like it, hon!

Summary: You have been a personal groupie of Guns n Roses for a while now, and things can get a little heated when they invite you to take part in the It’s So Easy videoclip. (smut)

A/N: You guys know how much I love and relate to Axl, so I wanted to do something for his birthday as well. I’m sorry if it’s not good, I had a hard time writing this one… Requests are open until tomorrow, btw :)

Warnings: mature content, swearing and unprotected sex (use a condom guys)

October 10, 1989 

It was an afternoon in Los Angeles and you were in a taxi, crossing the city towards the infamous Cathouse to take part in a video clip.

Guns n Roses had been back in town for a while now, their world tour was finally over and the band wanted to turn It’s So Easy into a music video, going completely against MTV’s standards, making something on the Guns’ style: groupies, sex and rock and roll. 

You had to admit that you were a little surprised when you received a call from Axl himself, asking you to take part in the video. You had accompanied the band since early days, and had even gone with them during the US tour. But you hadn’t heard from any of them ever since they went to Europe in 1988. 

But you’d never skip a chance to be in a Guns n Roses music video, especially with the little description Axl had given you through the phone. So here you were, entering the club, walking through the corridors while trying to find the guys.

“Y/N!” 

You turned around, finding Duff and Slash not too far from you.

“Hey, guys!” You smiled as they walked towards you, hugging you.

“I’m glad you accepted the offer.” Duff smiled.

“You know me, I’d never say no to you guys.” Your smile growing bigger. 

“Come on then, let’s find the rest,” Slash said, resting his arm on your shoulders and guiding you towards another part of the club.

Entering the bar area, you found the rest of the boys sitting at a table with an old man and two other girls, who you presumed were groupies as well. 

“Good afternoon.” You smiled slightly before sitting on a free chair beside Axl.

“Y/N, this is Jack, he’s gonna be the director. And these are Anna and Pamela, they’ll be in the video too.” Duff pointed to each one of them.

“Hi.” You smiled at them, before resting your back on the chair and taking in the boys around you.

Izzy looked skinnier than ever, dark circles around his eyes along with his constant greasy hair. Steven’s eyes looked tired, but his smile remained there. You could smell the vodka in Duff from far away and Slash’s hair was longer than usual. 

You weren’t the only one paying attention to the people around you though, you realized it when you heard Axl’s voice whisper in your ear:

“Your hair’s bigger… I like it.” 

You turned your head, facing him. 

Damn, how can he be this hot? You thought to yourself.

Axl had always been your favorite, of course, the others were great in bed and you liked them a lot, but Axl was different, there was something about the way his eyes burned your pupils that made you always have a weakness for him.

“Thanks, Ax.” You whispered back.

The two of you stared at each other for some seconds, the room growing hotter and everything around you slowly disappearing. However, someone’s voice caught your attention, making you look away from each other.

“I looked at the rooms and found some nice places to film. Let’s start in an hour, that way everyone can get ready… Let’s film the girls first.” The director looked towards you and the other two groupies. “We’ll film you girls separately, you’ll just need to dance in a very sexy way in front of the camera.”

“Pamela, you’re the white one.” He gave her a bag with clothes. “Anna, you’re in green today.” She nodded while taking the bag from his hands. “Y/N, you’re in black, you’re gonna make some scenes with Axl too.” 

You felt Axl’s hand against your thigh, squeezing it slightly. You nodded, getting the bag and taking a look inside. You frowned a little when you found a red gag inside of the bag. You looked to your side, meeting Axl’s smirk, making you bite your lips in expectation for the scenes. 

“We have to finish soon, they have to get the club set up for the gig later, so let’s try not to waste too much time getting ready, ok?” 

---

Not too long after that, you found yourself tied up, with a gag on your mouth, dressed in black leather clothes as Axl smacked your ass with a whip in front of the cameras.  His hands would run through every part of your body, and even though the two of you were acting, you couldn’t help but get wet. 

The longer the two of you stayed, doing scenes again and again to get better angles, the wetter you seemed to get, coming to a point where you had to squeeze your legs shut while the director watched the scenes to see if you would have to do it again.

Axl was in the same condition, he had been with a bulge on since the beginning of the scene, and that was just making your situation worse to control. 

“Ok, that’s it. We got it.” The director said, and you nodded in relief.

“You can go and get changed.” He said looking at you, so you turned around and went straight to the dressing room, hoping there would be cold water there or even a cold shower. 

“Hey! Good job with the scenes.” Pamela smiled as you entered the dressing room.

You nodded, reaching behind your head to try to take the gag away. 

“Want some help?” She asked.

You nodded again, dropping your hands beside your body. 

She giggled slightly, stopping behind you and opening the gag for you. 

“Thanks.” You said, smiling at her while you rubbed your jaw. 

“How’s it?”

“Uncomfortable.” You laughed.

“I bet it is.” She laughed with you while getting her purse. 

“You going already?”

“Yeah, I have an appointment tonight, won’t be able to stay for the gig.” 

“Oh, okay then.” 

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye!”

You stopped in front of the couch, removing your clothes when you heard the door opening again.

“Forgot something?” You asked, thinking it was Pamela. 

“Not really.” Axl’s voice caught your ears as he hugged your naked body from behind, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Hey." You could feel his bone against your butt, making you press yourself more against him, smiling when you heard him hiss. 

“What do you say, Y/N? Let’s have some fun?” One of his hands went down your body, finding your already wet core and sliding one finger between your folds.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you took in the sensation of his cold finger against your warm clit. You wanted to reply, but your mind went out of words, so you just moved one hand to his hair, grabbing and pulling slightly at his strands. 

“Is that a yes?” He gave you a dry chuckle.

You nodded in return, a weak yes leaving your lips. 

He started kissing your neck, as he inserted two fingers inside of you, making you gasp and tug at his hair stronger. His lips leaving sloppy and sweet kisses mixed with hungry and harsh bites on your neck, while his fingers explored every single part of you, making a small moan leave your lips.

“So wet for me, already.” He whispered against your ear, and you could clearly hear the smirk in his voice.

“Axl.” You moaned.

He removed his fingers from you, causing a whine to leave your lips as he turned you around, making you face him. 

He cupped your face with one of his hands, while the other grabbed your hair, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips met yours, sharing a dangerously hot kiss, full of desire. 

You tangled one of your legs against his waist, smiling slightly when he let go of your hair to grab your leg, moving his hand slowly towards your butt cheek, squeezing it harshly before he started removing his clothes. 

You let go of him, admiring his form as he removed the last pieces of clothing remaining on his body, biting your lips eagerly when his member was freed, rising up proudly. 

“Like what you see?” He asked.

“Yes.” You smirked before pulling him in for another heated kiss.

He started moving you towards the dressing tables, stopping when your butt hit the cold piece of furniture, turning you around again, making you face yourself in the mirror. 

“Lean down for me, doll.” His hand gently pushing your back, making you lean your upper part closer to the table. 

“Are you still taking pills?” 

“Yeah.”

“Good.” 

You felt his cock collecting some of your juices before sliding slowly inside of you, making a moan leave yours and his lips.  His hands found your hips, gripping at them while he started thrusting in and out of you at a delicious pace. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” He smacked your ass harshly, and you were sure his handprint would be there for a while.

He increased his thrusts, making them faster and harder as one of his hands grabbed your hair, lifting your head a little, making a wave of pure pleasure run through your veins.

Through the mirror, you could see his concentrated face, the way his lips cramped and how sweat started forming on his forehead. You always loved how serious he got during sex. 

You buckled up your hips more, giving him a new angle, allowing him to find your sweet spot instantly, making a loud moan leave your throat. 

“Oh my God, yes!” You manage to say between moans as he took that as an incentive to start thrusting even harder on you. 

After a few minutes you both were moaning loud enough to fill the entire room, your bodies were sweating and his repetitive moves against your sweet spot were making your walls start clenching around his member, making a loud groan left his throat as he pulled at your hair stronger, thrusting in and out of you, each time faster.

"Shit…. I'm gonna cum!" You said between gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut and taking in the pleasure that slowly started to take control over your body.

You felt Axl’s finger moving fastly on your clit, turning you into a mess of moans and sweat as your mind started going numb. 

"Yes... cum for me, doll!" Axl said between groans, his voice making the deal as your legs started shaking and your grip against the table got stronger.

His thrusts became stronger and you felt a wave of pure pleasure take over your body as you hit your climax, moaning his name loudly. 

He thrust inside of you a couple more times before he came too. You opened your eyes just in time to see him saying a lot of incoherent words and his face contorting in pleasure as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back a little.

The sight was a huge turn on, and if you hadn’t just hit your climax, you definitely would have now. 

You felt jats of his liquids filling you as he cursed loudly before removing himself, stopping for a second just to see his liquids, mixed with yours, leaving your core, making his member throb.

“Fuck, I missed this.” He said, whipping some sweat out of his forehead. 

“Yeah, me too.” You said, still trying to catch your breath as you got up, adjusting the mess Axl had made on your hair. 

He turned around, getting a white towel and handing it to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You said, starting to clean yourself.

“Will you stay?... You know? For the gig?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he watched you.

“Yes, I will.” You smiled slightly.

“Good.” He smiled. “See you during the gig then.” He came closer, evolving you in another hot kiss before he left the dressing room. 

I really did miss this. You thought to yourself

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[cyberdck]

You taking requests, I've got one. How V and Johnny found out they can touch each other? Maybe their first one? Pairing Johnny/f!V, if you don't mind.

a/n: i will not always be this fast. but i was excited and got a little ahead of myself. most request will likely be around this length because i can keep myself from getting overwhelmed trying to fill words into space. also long as i get my point across, i can be happy. 

living with an entirely independent being in your mind was an interesting adjustment to get use to. 

the first step was coming to a mutual agreement that left both of them alive, rather than grappling for control over a body that had been your home for years. 

second, came weeding through the sea of thoughts and emotions intertwined intimately with your own. johnny’s conscience had a voice, the rough edge grafting against yours with every word. it was a sharp contrast to lighter inner monologue that you’d debated with growing up. 

you could always feel him there in the absence of physical touch. sometimes your brain bridged the gap, making up synapses to mimic what it would feel like when he got close. activating pseudo-thermosensation to appreciate the heat of his presence; making him feel like he was another body and not an occupant of your frontal cortex. 

there is a possibility that johnny has a hand in the circus-fest of your nerve endings too. how else would your body know about the callousness hardening his fingertips, especially the thumb of his right hand that loved to draw circles against the inside of your thigh. 

piece by piece, the two of you built an entity beyond what you could accomplish with two separate bodies. 

he was your input source for amorous touch once reserved for close friends and lovers. johnny was your companion on lonely nights where you recall the times you spent ripping and running through the streets. he doesn’t needle through your sorrows or overtake them with idle chatter. just there to detangle your stress in dichotomy with those guitar-roughed hands prompting sharp tingling at your scalp as if working out the kinks of your hair. 

and you, his output source to the outside world. johnny hated the morning sun, remembering how it was the worst part of everyday. he preferred his beauty sleep, striving to sneak as much slumber into as many available hours in the day. but now he missed it. the burn against his skin and the blurred vision. so you find yourself aligning your body more towards the window at night, prepping for the earliest rays of light. the first thing you see each morning, is an unfocused rockstar vigilante seated comfortably on the windowsill. his face is tilted in a way that chases the sun from all angles, absorbing the light painting your skin and casting shadows across the bedspread. 

the first time it feels real though is when you go to cup his cheek. there was nothing special about the day, nothing about your past or impending future to weigh you down. 

just you, johnny and infinite curiosity binding you together. 

“hold up there, frost fingers. a warning would be nice.”

you think you stop breathing for a moment, or maybe that’s the weight of his air trapped in his chest. 

his words are a jest but his gaze is so focused in on you, as if the pull was strong enough alone to keep you trapped in this moment. his eyes were swimming in something foreign, a strange concept after practically living inside his mind and him yourself. 

you try to piece together the strings of it, all while idly stroking his face and scraping his the rough of his beard with your nails. your fingers may have been cold but his cheeks were so warm, inviting and inviting the chase of your touch. the fullness of his lips part in invitation as your thumb runs along the bottom, and something wet and tepid swipes against the pad. 

maybe you lean in first or him, it hardly matters as your mouths touch. it takes effort not to close your eyes, fighting the urge to surrender in favor of matching the visual with the sensation of his lips moving against yours. 

johnny doesn’t seem to know what a first kiss was or frankly he just didn’t care to cater to the timid dance of tongue. he assumes the loose reins of control, manipulating intimate gesture to his liking and exploring with faint giddiness. 

past the excitement, you can taste the tang of tobacco mixed with the flavor of those hard candies that always find their way into your mouth. 

fingers play at the nape of your neck, igniting erogenous zones you didn’t know you had. he rumbles in a approval when you let out a needy little gasp. of all people to discover them it felt right that it was him, someone who knew you from the inside out.

when johnny moved to break the kiss, you follow to nibble at his lip despite the way they move to form words. 

you were mesmerized by the kiss-swollen lips and the pandora’s box they’d opened with a smile.

and then he leaned down to kiss you again, firmly with purpose. outlining the shape of your lips with every bit of touch he could manage.

reassuring you that this was both real and far from over.