#found it while going through my drafts

[enjoyerofstories]

if the "nick will betray bree" theory doesn't die even after oathbound i'm going to scream

[merwgue]

Me core

[zukkaoru]

everyone talking about this with dazai…. guys i think i know who chuuya is REALLY talking about here

[jamietwat]

Roy actively having a stress reaction and being noticeably weird about his phone after sending a risky text (he literally just sent Jamie something that was too nice to not be embarrassing, but now Jamie has evidence that he said it)

[relicsofasaint]

Louis taking pictures of random pigeons is the most hashtag relatable he's ever been to me

[daringyounggrayson]

After Dick drops Roy off at Virgil House, he goes home and calls Donna.

(aka the post Rise of Arsenal #3 fic literally no one asked for)

[benbraeden]

my penjamin and coffee addiction working overtime together to help me emotionally regulate my system and force myself to both slowdown and practice mindfulness.

[dieselocelot]

What did Nagisa Oshima mean by this

[this-is-where-i-hide-my-bullshit]

You know what's not punk rock? Giving people tetanus.

[disillusionedjudge]

🎬

Send ��� for a random scene in my muse's life.

The humiliation of being kicked out had long since passed, and all that was left was the creeping fear of being caught. She was trespassing, and while the legality of it had never stopped her before, she had was usually with friends. Now, however, it was just her, and her father's fury would be even greater than it had been earlier that night. Yet, as much as that thought made her nervous, she could hardly bring herself to care enough to try and find somewhere else to stay.

Gylfie crouched and crawled beneath the hole in the wall, slipping inside the darkened, dilapidated building - had it been a store, formerly? - and heaved herself to her feet. She remained still, listening as the silence remained, and with a slow breath, she willed a flame to dance around her fingers. The pull of her magick was warm and comforting, in a way, and helped ease the horrid ache in her chest as she carefully picked her way through the rubble. Dust clouded around her feet, catching in her nose and the back of her throat, but she forced herself to swallow her coughs as she covered her mouth with her freehand.

Gods above, how she wished she could have been anywhere else. Myriel was always her first choice, but... she was away with her family, visiting her aunt and uncle far outside the city. It was too risky to go to Fframran, for if they were caught, she knew the worst would be assumed, and, admittedly, she didn't want to have to deal with his father, even without such social restrictions. And the few other friends she could go to, she... couldn't. She didn't want to deal with their questions or questions from their family, and she... she didn't want to burden them. If she wanted shelter, then she needed to make do with this place, and it was far better here than it was trying to find safety in the various alleys of Archades.

It was a small room, with what she imagined to have been the storefront boarded up, but even without a hint of moonlight creeping through, Gylfie didn't want to risk being too close. She moved to the back, to door off to the side, and opened it - revealing what once had to have been storage. It would mean corning herself, but if she was out of sight...

She looked behind her, at the shadows that loomed beyond the faint flickering glow of the flame twined around her hand, and swallowed a hard lump in her throat. It would have to do. Just for the night. She could return home in the morn, and... She shook her head, and extinguished the flame from her hand as she stepped inside. With a fresh surge of magick, she sent a small gust of wind to the side of the room - blasting away dust and dirt from a spot for her to sit without dirtying her clothing. Even with her mouth covered, she nearly choked on what scattered in the air, and with a choked coughing fit, she lifted the front of her shirt to cover her mouth instead of her hand as she sputtered. And to think she could have been in her own bed--

Gylfie's eyes welled with tears as she squeezed them shut, caused by both the pain that choked her heart and the irritation of the dust, but as her coughing subsided, she forced herself to open her eyes and slink to the small spot she had cleared. Crying would be of no help to her now. It was... it was her fault she was in this position, anyway. No matter how much she wanted to blame her father, how much she felt it could have been avoided if her mother had just allowed her to go with her, it always came back to her.

With another flame, she made sure the ground was clear before she slowly sat down, and leaned against the wall - extinguishing it one last time as she drew her knees close to her chest, and rested her crossed arms over them. The silence was overwhelming, the darkness suffocating, but she bit her tongue to keep quiet as tears fell down her face. She just wanted to be home... but until her father left, she knew she wouldn't be welcomed back.

Gylfie buried her face into her arms, and quietly began to weep.

--------

She hardly slept through the night, and shortly before the dawn, when she woke yet again, she left. She crept out of the ruined store and back out into the alley that had been closed off, and hurried back home before she could be caught. Dirt and dust still clung to her clothes and her skin, and she prayed she wouldn't run into anyone else - let alone her father. She was far too exhausted to come up with a convincing lie, nor did she have the stomach for another fight. All she wanted was to wash off and curl up in her own bed, and actually sleep.

But as she neared home, she came to a stop. What if her father hadn't left already? Was he waiting for her? What if Silas was still asleep? She didn't have a key. How else could she--

Gylfie nearly jumped as the door opened, but to her relief, Silas stood in the entryway. His dirty blond hair was ruffled, his eyes bleary, but it was clear he had been waiting.

"Father left already," he said, his voice raspy from sleep. "You're fine."

Relief flooded Gylfie's eyes as her shoulders slumped with exhaustion she could no longer fight, and said nothing. Not having the strength nor heart to trust her voice, as, instead, she bowed her head and crept in past him like a dog with its tail between its legs. How quiet their home was without Takrin's looming presence, and even as the door shut behind them, she stood still for a moment to take it in. Gods above, how easy it would be to slump to the floor and sleep there, but the temptation of a comfortable bed was far stronger, even... even despite the tension in her chest. Because, for a home, it felt... unwelcoming.

Silas shuffled by her, clearly set on returning to bed himself, when he stopped short. "This could have been avoided, you know." Although his voice was still hoarse, it was... rather cold.

Gylfie winced, but said nothing as she stared at the ground.

"You are far too difficult," her brother continued, and turned to face her with a frown. He pushed his hair out of his face, and shook his head. "Was it worth it, Gylfie? How many times does father have to dismiss you until you learn to knock it off?"

"I live here." Her voice was broken - raspy and almost painful from the lack of sleep and use. Quiet but still edged all the same. "He kicked me out, Silas. He did not dismiss me. I am his daughter, not his soldier."

Silas groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Whatever. Just learn to shut up every once and awhile, yeah? It would save us both the headache of having to work around him. I'm tired of having to deal with your stubborn pride."

His words stung, but... she hadn't the strength to argue with him. It was pointless, anyhow, for she knew Silas would refuse to understand her side, or see just how differently Takrin treated them. He could do no wrong, after all, while she could never do anything right. It was how it always had been, and how it always would be.

So why did she keep fighting? What was there for her to prove?

Gylfie turned her head as Silas muttered under his breath before he left her behind - disappearing down the hall into his room, though she flinched as he slammed his door shut. She remained still for a little longer, debating the idea of simply leaving, but... The thought fell apart as fresh tears pricked her eyes. She sniffled and wiped at her nose, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she nearly staggered her way back to her room. Her gait was awkward, her mind struggled to remain awake, and she closed the door behind her before she made it to her bed and... crumpled. She would bathe later - no longer did she care about the dirt and dust that clung to her still. Her head pounded from exhaustion and unshed tears, her heart heavy in her chest, but she continued to shove it all down as she curled into herself above the blankets, and let sleep overcome her.

It was going to be a long week without her mother there to, unknowingly, keep her father in line.

[marshmellowtea]

i think a not insignificant amount of my writing is just trying to capture that feeling of being a kid and hearing the adults around you talking about you because they think you’re sleeping/not paying attention, but you are listening in, and even though you don’t understand everything they say you can tell it’s about you and it’s important, but you’re too tired and young to really make sense of it and so all you can really do is hope they know what they’re doing and will take care of you through it. or something like that

[himbo-kuto]

plot: when you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits (all lads men)

rafayel:

when your phone rang early this morning while you were on your morning jog with a panicked rafayel on the line, you knew what he was calling about. yesterday while you were visiting rafyel’s studio, you found it in disarray. paint, brushes and a variety of different papers littered any and all surfaces. you usually asked rafayel when you throw away scraps in his studio, but this time the clutter was driving you mad that you just threw away anything in sight that looked like garbage.

“hey– sorry to call you so early in the morning. did you or thomas clean my studio yesterday? there was this sketch somewhere around here with a bunch of colors and scribbles for my exhibits that’s coming up and now I can’t find it–” busted. you heard the ruffling of papers through the phone as he frantically searched for it. the guilt washed over you as you tried to formulate what to say. 

“i– i’m actually pretty close by. let me come over and help you find it.” he sighed in relief as felt like his drawing was saved. 

“thanks, i’ll see you soon.” it was your turn to sigh as you continued your jog (now sprint) over to rafayel’s studio. you might as well use this time to try and figure out ways for him to forgive you. 

you stood in front of the gate for a moment, chewing your thumb out of nervous habit before pushing through. you knew rafayel wouldn’t be mad at you, but just the fact you set back his work upset you. 

upon entering, rafayel’s back was to you. one hand was in his hair, the other on his hip as if he was trying to retrace all his steps. but before your brain could even register, you just blurted out the truth. 

“raf, i threw away the sketch– i’m so sorry! i was in here yesterday and the clutter was driving me insane! i couldn’t even get through here so i just grabbed things that looked like garbage and threw it away–” you had your eyes squeezed tight, not even wanting to see the potentially frustrated expression he was wearing. but when no response came, you peaked through your right eye to see that he was only blushing behind his own hand. 

it didn’t register that you were wearing your workout clothes– a matching set that hugged your body, well everywhere. the top you had on was a fitted cropped quarter zip jacket and unbeknownst to you on your sprint over, it had unzipped all the way– your cleavage on full display. though your hair was tucked under a cap, the way it clung to your face and chest from  your sweat didn’t go unnoticed by rafayel. 

you couldn’t help but bite back a smile as you saw the tips of his ears go red. you decided you were going to use this to your advantage. inching closer to him, you clasped your hands behind your back which only pushed your chest out further. he weakly held up his forearm as he looked away trying to get ahold of any working brain cells, but he showed no resistance once your chest made contact. you rested your chin on top of his arm, looking up innocently at him. 

“i’m sorry raf.. could you forgive me? i’ll clear my schedule and help you come up with another draft…” you spoke just above a whisper, afraid he’ll explode if you spoke any louder. a long (shakey) sigh escaped his lips along with what you interpreted as “you’ll be the death of me i swear…”

he fully turned toward you, one hand on your shoulder as the other one zipped your jacket all the way up to your neck. he cleared his throat as he cupped your cheeks together, swiftly kissing your pursed lips. 

“you better keep your promise, cutie! we have a lot of work to do.”

zayne:

you did one last swipe of lipstick as you checked yourself in the mirror. you and zayne were going to an event hosted by akso, but zayne made it clear that there was a stritch one hour limit to say your pleasantries and then go home. sometimes these gatherings were entertaining but oftentimes they were grueling to sit through, even for zayne. 

you stood up from your vanity, turning your body from side to side making sure that your dress was sitting in all the right places. gold embellishments hung from your ears and neck bringing the look all together. but in the midst of your review, you heard a series of ruffling and mumbling coming from the kitchen followed by your name. you reached over to open the door and called out to him.

“what was that, love?” 

“did you eat the fruit tart in the fridge?” you froze in your spot. you totally forgot that tart was his and you had it with your lunch this afternoon. you zoomed out to the kitchen to see zayne looking into an empty pastry box and a dejected expression like you took candy from a baby. 

“zayne– i’m so sorry i forgot that you said you wanted it and– .. i ate it” he slowly shifted his gaze from the empty box to you across the counter. your eyebrows were downturned and there was a big frown on your face. zayne always looked forward to having a sweet treat before these events, it was his reward for mustering up the courage to go. you should’ve known to save it for him, but your hunger got the best of you.

you rounded the corner of the counter, taking his hands in yours. your eyes on the verge of tears, as you continued on apologizing but all zayne could hear was blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff– your perfume, citrusy and sweet, enveloped him like a trap. with your eyelids sparkly, your lips all plumped and your hair pulled back to expose your shoulders, he couldn’t even comprehend your apology.

“okay, zayne?” he blinked once, only now registering that you’ve been talking to him the whole time. the blush immediately grazed his cheeks and ears as he looked away from you. 

“it’s okay.. i forgive you.” he pulled you in by the waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath, letting the notes of your perfume be his treat until he was able to get one later. your fingers reached up to scratch the nape of his neck as you turned to kiss his cheek, not even noticing. 

“i’ll buy you whatever you want from the bakery tomorrow, i promise”

caleb:

“you did what?!” you screeched to gideon over the phone. 

“look, i didn’t have a choice okay? caleb can be very persuasive with that evol of his. i’m sorry but i didn’t want to lose my fingers” a big sigh left your lips as you ran your fingers through your hair. you had been taking some secretive pilot lessons with gideon to try and impress caleb on your next flight lesson, but you bit off a little more than you could chew and ended up with a big bruise on your abdomen. 

“no, i get it. it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. thanks though for holding out as long as you did.” you lifted up caleb’s shirt to take a look at your little accident. it was about the size of a grapefruit with hues of yellow, purple and blue painting your skin. 

“no, me and my fingers thank you for being understanding. but you know the drill kid, ice and heat every 15 minutes.” 

“yeah, yeah, yeah. you sound like–” before you could even say his name, you heard the clattering of the locks. 

“gotta go, the colonel is in.” you quickly hung up the phone, looking around the bathroom for places to hide and decided the closet was your best option. you pulled the door shut, trying to close it as silently as possible upon hearing his footsteps approaching. 

“pipsqueak.” not a question of where you were, but a known fact. you didn’t answer, choosing to ride this out for as long as you can. 

“you can’t hide from me. you left your phone on the counter and the hallway smells like your shampoo.” damn his obsessive nature (and your stupidity thinking you could ever hide from him in his own place). 

you held your breath as your eyes snapped to the handle. he was right in front of the door. there was a pause and.. nothing. his footsteps slowly faded to where the shower was, swiftly pulling the curtain back to expose an empty tub.

“come out, come out pips. i won’t be mad, i just want to see.” liar. you got the smallest scratch on your face from a mission and he wouldn’t let you hear the end of it for weeks. 

there was no use in hiding anymore. you turned the handle, but didn’t open it all the way. he reached his fingers through the gap and opened the door to find you looking like a dog with its tail between its legs– looking down at the ground, arms guarding your mid section. caleb cautiously took you by your hands and pulled you out of the closet. 

“let me see it.” he gently requested. you huffed as you carefully lifted up the shirt to reveal the bruise. he let out a distressed noise, quickly ridding himself of his gloves before his bare fingers grazed your skin. 

“i’m fine caleb, it’s not even that bad–”

“not that bad?!” he exploded like a volcano that was waiting to erupt. 

“pips, you have a bruise the size of a meteor on your stomach and it’s darkening by the second! what did you even do?” he took the shirt between his fingers, pulling it up even higher to inspect for any more damage. it was then that he realized that you were only in your bra and underwear with just his long sleeve to cover up. he took his moment to take you all in as he effortlessly towered over you. 

hair wet, smelling like apples, in a matching set, in his clothes.. brain go brrrrr….

he didn’t know if it was his chip kicking in or his brain malfunctioning, but thank god you were looking away from him. he felt the blush spread throughout his face, every inkling of scolding you fading by the second

he cleared his throat, gently letting his shirt fall back into place as he gingerly wrapped his hands behind your back, pulling you close. burying his face in the hair, he let the scent of you calm him down. he just hated seeing you hurt, especially if there was a mark or bruise to show for it.

“i’m sorry. i was only trying to impress you for our next flying lesson and then the weather suddenly changed and then the throttle did a thing–and i got launched into the control panel and..” you admitted embarrassingly. he laughed as he pulled away, taking your cheeks into his hands.  

“okay, okay. just next time please be careful. we don’t want you getting a bionic arm or anything–”

“CALEB!”

xavier:

exhaustion was oozing off xavier the moment he stepped into your apartment. his footsteps were dragging, shoulders hunched over, with a severe lack of motivation to keep his eyes open.  it was a series of: lack of sleep, fighting off more wanders than he could even count and then doing that over and over again for the past week. his back and body hurt and all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a week undisturbed. 

he ridded himself of his uniform, begrudgingly forced himself to shower, dried off his hair and plopped so hard on the bed it skirted and hit the wall. as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was already in his rem cycle, letting sleep take him for however long sleep would have him. 

though he was a valiant hunter, he knew that your place was safe. so if he felt a bump or a shift in the bed, he knew it was only you. though he wasn’t expecting you so soon. even with his eyes closed counting sheep, he was able to feel you crawl over his body. your hair tickled his collar bones as you leaned down to shower him in kisses. from his neck, cheeks, forehead, with a final blow to the lips, he didn’t budge. he wanted sleep and so he was going to have it (even if it meant hearing from you later) but you didn’t relent. 

you continued to lay kisses all over him, knowing that he’s done this to you before when you wanted to sleep but he wanted you to get up. you wanted his attention and much like xavier, you were going to have it. you held his face in your hands, laying loud kiss after loud kiss, trying to pull him out of dreamland but to no avail. you huffed as you sat your tush on his stomach. you moved his face from side to side before resorting to squishing his cheeks together. 

there was a slight twitch in his eyebrows signifying to you that he was slowly waking up, which resulted in you poking and prodding his face. after several minutes of working like a cat clocked in at the biscuit making factory, he let out one final groan before his eyes barely opened. 

“there he is.” you said sweetly. he huffed, turning to the side while covering his face to try and avoid your advances. 

“no he is not…” you took that as a challenge, now wrestling with him to lay on his back. when xavier was asleep, he was like a log. with much resistance, he flopped on his back while you pinned his wrists above his head. he peeled his eyes open, ready to let you have it only to find you with your hair all disheveled, the top buttons of your pajama shirt all undone and askew with the faintest wash of pink over your cheeks. 

“i just wanted some kisses and snuggles…” you admitted as you let go of his wrists. a sigh of defeat left his lips.

“well if you say it like that, of course i can’t be mad at you.” a giggle left your lips as he wrapped his arms and legs around you. it was his turn to shower you in kisses which you happily received. when the shower was over, you laid ontop of him with your face buried in his neck. 

“i’m sorry i disturbed your sleep.. you can go back now. i promise i won’t wake you until tomorrow.” he nuzzled his cheek into your head, already mumbling a bunch of nothings into your ear.

“i love you too, honey.” 

sylus:

“i said no.” sylus was being unreasonable. all you wanted to do was join him on an ‘auction’ to help him out. he had been stressed about it all week– skipped meals, jaw clenched in his (lack of) sleep, dark bags under his eyes– you haven’t seen him this stressed in a while. 

“why not? you know that it would be easier with me there and i want to go, so why no–” he held up his hand to you, too focused on the papers in front of him to even look you in the eye. 

“my decision is final. it’s too dangerous, i wouldn’t even go if it wasn’t a necessity.” you knew that he was only looking out for your safety, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. if he wasn’t going to willingly take you, guess it was time to take matters into your own hands. you didn’t utter another word, choosing to leave his office in silent rage. 

once he knew you were out of sight, he heaved a deep sigh. he could feel the pounding headache coming on. removing his glasses, he leaned back onto his chair while squeezing the bridge of his nose. he was already trying to think of ways to make it up to you, though this one would be tough. 

—

it was a few quiet days in the N109 zone. you decided to keep your interactions with sylus to a minimum, only greeting him the times he came to bed or when he came to dinner. he chose to respect that distance, trying to make the most out of the times you did give him the time of day. he couldn’t wait to get this mission over and done with. 

then came the day of his departure. you weren’t petty enough to not send him off, especially on dangerous missions such as this one. the last thing that you always handed off was his leather jacket. you had done it the first few missions he went on, and from there it kinda stuck. send offs never felt right without it. as he loaded the last suitcase, you stood behind him with his coat. 

he leaned in and gave your forehead a kiss. 

“i’ll be back soon, kitten.” he mumbled the words into your temple. you offered him a soft smile before holding up his jacket. he swiftly dropped his arms into the sleeves, pulling it over his shoulders, now counting down the minutes until he could be back. 

“i love you, get back safe.” you waved off him and the twins as you watched the car went off into the distance.

“you won’t have to wait long, dear.” 

—

shit. 

this was bad. 

sylus knew it was going to be, but he hoped just a little that it wouldn’t be. removed the hand from his abdomen to check if the bleeding had stopped, but surely enough his hand was covered in his crimson red blood. he leaned against a wall, knowing that the twins wouldn’t be here another 30 minutes. he knew his regenerative powers could kick in soon, but he was sorely outnumbered. he heard footsteps behind him and what sounded like a “he’s in here!” and just as he was about to set his guns ablaze, he heard a few shots coming from that same hallway. he squinted his eyes as he concentrated on the commotion.

‘one… two…..three.. four down. who?? they’re not supposed to be there for ano–’ the door swung open and upon instinct, sylus swiftly held up his gun to the intruder ready to shoot. he never hesitated in his life, but something was telling him to do otherwise. his fierce eyes met your intense ones in the same position. you both retracted your weapons before sylus pulled you through the doorway, crashing your back against his chest.

“how many are left?” he leaned down and whispered. 

“ten. five in the front and five in the back. the twins should be able to handle them. i took out all the ones in here for now.” for a second he breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning against you. sylus would’ve made it out, but certainly not in the best of conditions. 

“why are you here?” 

“i think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’” he rolled his eyes, turning you around to take you in. stunning, as always. your hair was a bit disheveled, straps fallen down to your shoulders and your dress was torn around the edges, but in this moonlight he was utterly captivated by you. all his anger and many of the words that he had for you suddenly flew out the window. he tugged your straps gently back up to your shoulders before giving you a kiss. 

“i’ll deal with you when we get back.” you basked in his presence for mere seconds before smelling the copper in the air. you stepped back to examine him before your eyes landed on his hand. he showed no resistance showing you his wound, knowing that you were right and he was caught. a heavy sigh left your lips. you knew he would be back to himself in no time, but it reminded you that he wasn’t all that invisible. 

“still think you don’t need me?” sylus chuckled as his face made its way into the crook of your neck, arms snaking around your waist. he took in one long inhale. 

“... you changed your perfume.. that’s why i couldn’t tell you were here.” you laughed breathlessly into ear, but not before you heard more footsteps coming in from the hallway. you both tensed, trying to remain as silent as possible. he tapped two of his fingers on your left side signalling that’s where he was headed. but before you could move, he noticed a shadow coming from the window. he pulled you down, letting off a few rounds towards the window. it was seconds before all hell broke loose once again. 

luckily you both were able to fend off the second wave until the twins got there. when it was all said and done, you two were able to make it out with a few bumps and bruises, you’ve definitely done worse. the car ride back was silent as you were taping up sylus’ arm. you knew he was angry at you, now having to be in pain because you didn’t listen to him.

“i don’t regret coming.” he wiped off some dried blood from your cheek, now his turn to tape up your wounds. 

“i know you don’t.” the conversation settled back into a comfortable silence. he started by dabbing some ointment on your scratches.

“... and thank you.. for saving my ass back there.” 

[vaspider]

Tonight, the night before Election Day 2024 in the US, I am thinking about my stepkid.

I am thinking about the phone call they made to us earlier this year, the one where they told us they'd gone to the hospital thinking they had appendicitis and found out, instead, that a zygote - a tiny splodge of cells - had taken up residence not in their uterus but in a fallopian tube. The one where our kid said they were waiting for their partner to arrive, hoped that said partner would get there before the docs took our kid back to terminate that pregnancy, & assured us that they'd be okay.

After all, our kid lives in a state with choice measures embedded in state law. That pea-sized blot of tissue doesn't have more right to their health than they do. Nobody is standing between them and their doctors. They made a decision, and that was that.

In this tiny tragedy, the kind that plays out dozens of times a day at minimum across the country, we only had to worry about the small risk of surgery complications. We didn't have to worry about Ken Paxton threatening to charge their doctors with felonies. We didn't have to think, "What if the hospital's legal team doesn't think an ectopic pregnancy - which is never ever viable and must be terminated before it kills our kid - is really that big of a deal?" We didn't have to worry that they live in a state where ob-gyns are fleeing, leaving few experts behind, as has happened in Idaho.

We didn't have to watch our kid vomit up black blood before dying the day after their baby shower the way Neveah's mom did. We didn't have to pray in a waiting room (while doctors took our kid apart until their heart stopped because the doctors waited too long out of fear of anti-choice laws) until a doctor came to tell us we'd have to bury them the way that Amber's mom did. We aren't having to pick up our lives after fully treatable miscarriage-related sepsis took them from us the way that Josseli's husband and daughter must.

I could go on for far, far too long.

Listen. If you are a single-issue non-voter and have already decided that "both parties are the same" or whatever other thing you've told yourself so you can sleep at night, smug and secure, then I can't reach you and I can't help you. But if you genuinely think that your votes don't matter, if you're just suffering from a bout of overwhelm or apathy, if you're too young to remember the 2000 election and can't see that Dobbs is a direct result of that election and every one that's followed, please, I am fucking begging you.

I didn't really talk about this when it happened. I mentioned something briefly, maybe. The posts I've started writing about it are still in my drafts. It was too fresh, too frightening. It's not any less frightening now, honestly - because if this week doesn't end with President Kamala Harris, we're headed for a national abortion ban, at the minimum - but it's not about how fucking frightened I was or how sad and bewildered I was to realize that my kid was going through this crisis in a nation more hostile to them than when I needed a D&C for an abortion at 21, in 1998.

It's about stopping this chapter of this fucking bullshit and at least finding some new fucking bullshit.

Vote, dammit.

Do the other work on Wednesday. Tomorrow, the work is to vote.

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact Marked by the Sea

Summary: In which Neuvillette is your soft husband, a loving one with some dragon tendencies. 

or, here are snippets of a domestic dragon husband. 

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader! 

Note: Going through my drafts and yes, I had a Genshin phase

Warning: Lots of fluff >.< because we love our hydro dragon sovereign. 

★・・・・・・★

“You’re staring again,” you murmur sleepily.

Every morning, you wake up to long white messy hair on your face and sometimes, even purrs coming from your beloved husband. 

Neuvillette tightens his arms around your waist. 

“I’m simply…appreciating.”

“You’re very clingy for someone who acts like the world’s most composed man in public,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He presses his face into your neck. 

“You’re the only place I feel at peace.”

Your fingers comb gently through his hair.

A soft whine escapes him. 

“Stay with me a little longer.”

“Love, you have to go now.” You managed to sit up and let out a small yawn. You eyed the clock, and realized that it’s time to get ready for the day. 

“Must we get up?”

Neuvillette’s voice was muffled against your hip, arms still around your waist.

You laughed, gently tugging him upright. 

“You’re the Chief Justice. Pretty sure pajamas aren’t court-appropriate.”

You quickly pull him out of bed and help him wash his face and teeth. Help him clean up and look like the respectable Chief Justice everyone knows. 

He blinked at you, bleary-eyed, letting you button his shirt. 

“Now arms up.”

He obeyed, now a bit more awake, but his head thunk on your shoulder. 

“You’re too good to me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, guiding him to the kitchen.

He sat, still drowsy, while you went to make a quick breakfast. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the carefully packed lunch.

“You made soup again…” he murmured, picking up his spoon. 

“You know me too well.”

You peck his cheek.

“Someone has to make sure you eat something that isn’t stressful.”

Neuvillette caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I don't know I would do without you.” You raised a brow. 

“Dramatic.”

“Truthful,” he said, giving you that soft look that made your chest ache. 

“I’d be lost without you.”

You poured him water, leaning in close. 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

He hummed, content, and smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

The courtroom echoed with voices, petitions, disputes, and lies dressed as truths.

Neuvillette listened, silent and unreadable as always, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on him today.

Humans, no feelings are difficult to understand for Neuvillette. 

During a short break, he retreated to his office. He didn’t expect peace, but when he opened the simple wooden box you'd prepared for him that morning, the tightness in his chest eased.

Carefully arranged: poached fish, soup, soft rice, steamed greens. And nestled beside it, a folded note.

“Don't forget to eat. And breathe. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

You’d drawn a little doodle of him, half-asleep with his hair floofed.

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile touched his lips.

He took a bite of the fish. Light, clean. Just the way he liked it. His heart unclenched, if only a little.

You always knew what he needed before he did.

He tucked the note back into his coat pocket, among the many others.

Then he returned to the courtroom, still weary, but a little steadier.

You found him hunched over his desk, buried in paperwork. Rain tapped on the windows like it was echoing his mood.

Silently, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"...You always find me,” he murmured after a pause, voice tight. “Even when I don’t want to be found.”

“You don’t really mean that,” you whispered, resting your cheek against him.

When it got late, you knew Neuvillette was stuck at work, being the workaholic he is. 

He didn’t argue. Just exhaled shakily, fingers clutching a paper like it had wronged him personally.

“Why are they like this?” he asked. “Humans. So much… cruelty and lies.”

You held him tighter. You knew sometimes these cases could be too much to listen to, after all, people only go to court for frustration, guilt and confessions. 

“Because we’re messy. But we’re capable of kindness too. You don’t have to understand all of it. You just have to be you.”

“But I’m not human,” he said, looking up at you. “How can I judge them if I don’t understand them?”

For a moment, you hesitated because you remembered the time he told you about his true identity, but even then, you never cared for it because you truly loved this man dragon from the moon and back. 

“You don’t need to be them to care,” you said gently, brushing his hair back.

“You’re already doing more than most. That’s enough.”

A deep breath before he turns in his chair and buried his face into your chest. 

You didn’t speak. Just stroked his hair, kissed his temple, and held him. 

“…Thank you,” he whispered. Then he tipped you down and you let him. He kissed you, slow, tender, like you were sunlight and he hadn’t seen the sky in days.

When he finally pulled back, he glanced toward the window.

“…The rain stopped,” he said, almost in disbelief. You smiled, running a finger along his jaw. 

“Told you. You just needed to let someone hold you for a while.”

He smiled, really smiled, and leaned in for one more kiss.

“My heart listens to you more than it does me.”

Another day, another migraine as you would sometimes say. 

"Neuvi, you need a vacation."

He had meant to protest, he always did, but the look in your eyes had silenced him more effectively than any decree. It wasn’t disappointment or frustration. 

It was care. Concern. Love.

He sat at the edge of the bed, fingers absently tracing the letter you had slipped into his coat earlier. He unfolded it now, reading your familiar handwriting:

“You are allowed to rest, Love. You are allowed to be more than the Chief Justice. Let me take care of you.”

He closed his eyes.

For centuries, he had carried so much. 

Dignity. Duty. Distance. 

And yet you, gentle, persistent, loving you, had chipped away at his solitude like water to stone, reshaping him with kindness.

Perhaps...just this once...

He let out a slow breath. And then, deliberately, he stood, walking to the open balcony. 

The moon was dim tonight, and the streets were empty except the automatons guarding the city. With one smooth motion, he shifted, scales rippling over his skin, horns glinting, wings unfurling into the night air.

A dragon once more. It felt liberating despite only showing his half dragon form. 

And as he looked down at the palace below, a deep, low growl rose in his throat. He wanted to take you far away from this place. 

From politics. From judgment. From all the noise.

He wanted to keep you close. Closer than ever.

He took to the skies and took a deep breath.

Perhaps...a vacation has been long overdue. 

After months of court and chaos, Neuvillette finally, finally, listened to you.

You had never been so excited as you pulled out your notes and forgotten plans of just hanging out without work looming over your heads. Still, you wanted it to be relaxing for your dragon husband because you wanted this to be all about him! 

He deserves rest and you would make sure he gets spoiled! The first thing you did was just take him away from the palace and into the Fontaine wilderness, where it would just be you, him, and the sea.

What you didn’t expect was to see Neuvillette showing off in his half dragon form.

You watched as he shifted, wings unfurled, silver-blue scales gleaming in the sun, and you swore you saw him breathe for the first time in weeks. 

No courtroom. No robes. 

Just Neuvillette, in all his dragon majesty, curling his massive body around you in a protective sprawl. 

“You’re hovering,” you teased when he kept nuzzling you every time you moved an inch too far.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. 

“You wandered out of sight for two minutes.”

“You sound like you were ready to drown someone.”

“I was.”

Each day, he softened. The weight on his shoulders lightened. 

You massaged the tension from his back, whispered reassurances into his neck, and watched him melt under your touch.

But as the days passed, something changed. His touches grew bolder. His gaze lingered longer.

At night, in human form again, he’d pull you close, hands trembling just slightly. 

“Tell me I’m allowed this,” he murmured once, voice rough and low as his fingers trailed your spine. 

“Tell me I can want you.”

“You’re allowed everything, Neuvi,” you whispered against his lips. “Especially me.”

He kissed you slowly, starting off with gentle kisses before turning desperate, with whispered promises.

By dawn, you lay tangled together beneath his draped wing. His breath is warm at your nape. His arm locked around your waist.

“You’re not letting go, are you?” you murmured, half-asleep.

A hum. 

“Never.”

You could say the same. 

The sky was streaked with pink when you tugged Neuvillette’s hand. 

“Beach walk,” you said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He let you lead him, fingers laced with yours, quiet as ever, but relaxed. Peaceful.

The sea air suited him. Personally, you liked that he was out of his “judge” outfit, and in a more shirt and pants. 

Then you spotted them.

“Otters!” you gasped, pointing excitedly at the group rolling around in the surf. One, in particular, caught your eye, blue-gray fur, an almost regal posture, and sharp eyes surveying the world.

You burst into laughter, as you quickly led Neuvillette to them. 

“Wait, look! That one looks just like you.” Neuvillette blinked. 

“You think I look like an otter?” You nodded as you looked back and forth. 

“Same dignified vibe. Same colours. Same mysterious energy. Very composed. Very you.”

He gave you the most bewildered expression. 

“I...see.”

You giggled and crouched near the water’s edge, where the otters now swarmed, squeaking little “kyu” noises as they playfully nuzzled you.

Neuvillette stayed behind, watching. Silent. Still.

One of the otters nestled into your lap, eyes closed in bliss. You cooed at it.

And he frowned.

“…They’re quite clingy,” he muttered, barely audible.

You looked up. 

“Are you… pouting?”

“I am not,” he said, a touch too quickly. 

“Merely observing. They seem rather… attached.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. 

“You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous of an otter,” he said stiffly, before stepping forward and sliding his hand into yours, gently pulling you up and into his side. 

You laughed, letting him pull you close. 

“Jealous much?”

“I prefer ‘protective.’” 

You smiled up at him. 

“Don’t worry. No amount of adorable otters could ever take your place.”

He exhaled slowly, brushing a hand through your hair, gaze softening. 

“Good.”

Still, you made him take photos with otters anyways. 

And now Neuvillette sees it all the time on your nightstand. 

While he judges it all the time, you know that Neuvillette could never be mad at otters forever.

One night, you lay on deck beside Neuvillette on a ship. The lakeside is quiet, with the moonlight catching in his eyes, stormy and somehow intense. 

What was he thinking about even on vacation?

His fingers traced your skin slowly, pausing at your neck.

“You always touch there,” you whispered.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss to the spot.

“It’s my favorite place,” he murmured. Then softer, with a hint of hesitation. 

“May I leave a mark?” Your breath hitched as he leaned over you, staring at you intently, making you feel like you were in the eyes of a dragon.

“A mark?” You asked, breathless. 

“A symbol. A promise.” His eyes didn’t waver. 

For a moment, you simply stared into his eyes, a little pensive. Neuvillette caught your hesitation but did not falter. 

“In dragonkind,” Neuvillette explained softly, “a mark is a symbol, but also a bond. One created from instinct, will, and power. When a dragon marks someone, it means they’ve chosen them as mates.”

“Mates?” You blinked, your heartbeat fluttering.

He nodded. “More than that. It’s a soul-deep tether. A dragon only marks once in their lifetime. Once we do… that bond cannot be undone. No matter time, distance, or circumstance, our hearts remain bound.”

Your lips parted slightly as you looked into his eyes, searching. 

“So…you can’t ever choose someone else?”

“No,” he murmured, “Even if you walked away, even if I never saw you again…I would remain yours. That is how dragons love. We don’t fall often. But when we do, it’s forever.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. Then, with a soft smile, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

“Forever sounds nice.” You leaned back, exposing your neck to him. 

“I trust you.”

You heard him suck in a breath before he swallowed.

“I love you.” You widen your eyes in surprise, he had never said it so explicitly before, which made it all the more special.  

He kissed your neck, warmer this time, and whispered something ancient, words that shimmered like falling rain. Then, he bit down, making you shiver and gasp, but he held you close, making sure you felt comfortable yet safe in his arms. 

A pulse of hydro energy flowed through you, cool and comforting. You felt it settle, and when he pulled back, a glowing symbol remained, blue and silver, delicate yet powerful.

“It’s done.” He looked so relieved, content and satisfied before kissing the mark again. 

You touched it, awed. 

“It’s beautiful…”

“So are you,” he said, reverent. 

“It binds us. Now and always.” You met his gaze. 

“I was already yours.”

“As I am to you,” he said, pulling you close. “But now the world will know too.”

He kissed you then, deep and slow, as if sealing the bond with his very breath.

From that night on, the mark stayed. And every time Neuvillette saw it, his eyes would soften, and he’d kiss it again, like a quiet vow, Mine.

[lucidfairies]

— mess around (part two)

part one • part three • part four

synopsis: it wasn't everyday you moved to the south, surrounded by cowboys and their women, but here you were, and your new neighbor simply couldn't get any more enticing

pairing: rancher!sevika x married housewife!reader

warnings: cheating, dom!sev, sub!reader, reader is bolder in this one, face sitting, fingering, finger sucking, size kink, back shots, breeding kink, rougher than part one(!), light bondage, sevika is a bit meaner in this one but not outside of sex, new pet names (!!!!), choking, thigh riding, cum plug

a/n: I want to make it very clear that even though pregnancy is mentioned several times, r will never get pregnant with an unwanted child or with the husband figure, it's solely for plot !

wc: 4.4k

collaboration: my biggest love and thank you to @sevsgiirl for literally leading me through this and giving me all the ideas and also reading my rough drafts lol! 🙏🙏

Sevika was obscenely tired. This was her third week running only getting two hours of sleep, tossing and turning, unable to fall back into sleep. When she did sleep, it was short and light, not sufficient enough. It was eating her alive.

There were a number of reasons - her dog had been sick for days, the horses needed a different feed schedule, she briefly had to travel up North to visit relatives, changing her time zone. But most of all, and most obviously, you.

Everything about you. Your eyes, your hips, your smell. The way your hair flicked when you walked, your smile when you greeted the neighbors, the way you knew something about everyone. You were the complete opposite of her, and it was driving her mad.

She hated you. Hated your perfection, and the blush in your cheeks. She hated the way you dressed, pretty sundresses that hardly past mid thigh, bows, and those fuck ass boots. She hated you because she needed you.

She was desperate to get you a real pair of boots, ones that weren't from some northern shop impersonating southern culture. She needed to show you off and parade you around, have you sit on her lap at the bar with her hat on while she played poker, and tell everyone that you were hers.

But that wasn't ever going to happen. You were never going to be hers, divorce was too much of a hassle for a woman like you, who probably wanted a million things she couldn't give you.

-

“Babe, can you come here?” Your husband called you from the kitchen. You were perched on your bed, folding the week's laundry. You stood and made your way to the kitchen, stomach twisting. Ever since your night with Sevika, your husband wanting to speak to you worried you. There's no way he found out. But what if he did?

“What's up, honey?” He beckoned you to sit down across from him at the small table, and you did. He had papers in his hand, messy scribbles covering the page.

“I wanted to have a serious conversation about kids,” he paused for a moment while his words sank in, “I asked you to stay home so that we could start our family, but you keep declining to actually start it. I can't keep you home like this if you aren't going to do anything.” You sighed.

You knew this was coming - every time he brought it up, you shut it down. Every time you slept together you had him wear protection, or you made sure you had taken the pill that morning. You couldn't identify why you didn't want to have children with him at the moment, but the feeling was there, and it was strong.

“I'm just not ready yet,” you insisted, “if you want me to go to work I can, but I do quite a bit around the house. Just because we don't have children yet doesn't mean that my work is diminished.” You stood your ground, annoyed at the constant assumption that you didn't do anything.

“Babe,” he sighed angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose while he formulated what to say, “every time we talk about this you say you're not ready. We've been married for three years, when will you be ready?” You shrugged, embarrassment getting the best of you. “You only have so many years to have kids. I can’t sit around and waste them while you figure out if you’re ready or not.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, especially because you knew them to be true. You got into this relationship and eventually this marriage knowing his intention with children, and up until recently, you thought you shared that intention. But the longer you thought about bearing his children, the more displeasing the thought became.

“We can start trying, then. But not until next week, come July.” If you had to do it, you would at least have it when you wanted to. Your husband grinned, rising from the table to give you a hug, and press a kiss to your head.

“I’m glad it’s time,” you put on your best fake smile, “I’m headed to bed. Mind cleaning up?” He waved towards the dinner dishes as he walked towards the bedroom. “See you tomorrow, my love.”

You sat in your seat at the table for a long time, simply looking at it. Sevika’s words from the night she had dinner rang in your mind like a screeching alarm - I’m a capable woman, babygirl. I can clean my own plate. She wanted to help, even after working all day. She chose to help.

Before you could choose the wiser, you were shooting up from your seat and clearing the dishes into the sink. You washed them quickly, not bothering to scrub very hard before tossing a robe over your shoulders and slipping on some shoes. Quietly, trying not to wake your husband, you peeled open the door and slipped it shut, sneaking down the steps carefully. You knew where they creaked now, you had lived here long enough for that.

There was a clunking sound and loud groan when you knocked on her door. Part of you hoped that, if you knocked softly enough, she wouldn’t hear it, or that she would be asleep. The other part of you begged to see her, even though it wasn’t right. Something about her drew you in, wrong or right.

The door flew open, and there stood Sevika in all her glory. Except, she didn’t look as if she felt glorious. There were eye bags under her eyes that made it look as if she hadn’t slept in a week, and her face was angry. Her downturned lips only frowned further at the sight of you, and you felt small, beginning to question your decision.

She must’ve noticed. Her face softened, still angry, but not as angry as before. She simply looked at you, waiting for something. “Hi Sev,” you whispered, meekly. “I don’t really know why I’m here.” You looked over your shoulder, gazing at the home that was calling you back, the husband that was asleep in the bed you shared.

“I can’t help you with that, sugar.” She said, gruffly. “When you know what you want, come and find me.” She went to close the door, but on instinct, your hand flew out to stop it.

“Can I come in?” She looked at you for a moment longer, eyes sullen and mind begging to send you back home. But she opened the door nonetheless, allowing you to step in. You had never been in Sevika’s home, but it looked just like you would think. Clean, homey, a little boring. Lots of pictures of people you didn’t recognize, aside from the ones you met at the bar.

“What can I do ya for, angel?” The name made you breathless. It effortlessly brought you back to when she had you riding her, calling you angel.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” You moved through her house slowly, taking a spot in the living room. It felt embarrassing, inviting yourself in like this, late. “Unless you’re sleeping. I understand if I woke you.” She punched out a laugh.

“I ain’t slept in weeks,” she plopped down across from you, the L shaped couch making it easy to see her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Husband doin’ you wrong?” You considered whether you should answer yes.

“We’re going to start trying for a baby,” you told her, cringing at the sentence. You could see her face drop and her eyes change, but she was quick to recover. “I’m not sure I want to.” Your gaze fell to your hands as you crossed your ankles.

“Want to try, or want to have a baby?” She clarified, brows knit as she leaned back and fell into her manspread once again.

“I guess both,” you sighed, “I don’t know if I’m ready to have a baby with him, and the trying part..” you trailed off, considering your options as to how to phrase what you wanted to convey. “When we.. did what we did, it was much more fun than when my husband and I sleep together,” a proud smirk found Sevika’s lips. “He’s very boring, he doesn’t like to try things. In out, in out.” You made a gesture with your hands and she laughed. “He’s always on top of me, it never really changes. I don’t like it.”

Sevika hummed. There were so many ways she could take this. “You don’t say,” her accent was thick this time of night. It made you wonder what she was thinking about. “So you want somethin’ rougher?” You nodded slowly, not 100% sure what ‘rougher’ meant. “Tell me, sugar, has anyone ever bent you over?”

Your eyes blew, and your lips parted. Sevika’s clit started to beat at the expression. It was perfect, she longed to frame it. “No, I don’t believe so.” She tapped her thigh, looking at you with low eyes.

“Come,” she instructed, and for some reason, you stood, and found placement on her thigh. Her hands gripped your hips in a tighter grip than the one she had the first time you were like this with her. There was something different in her now. “Tell me what you want. What he isn’t giving you.”

You thought for a moment. “I’ve always thought about having my hands bound,” you told her, quietly. You let out a soft gasp as she used her tight grip on your hips to roll them forward slowly. “I don’t know how that would work, but I’ve wondered. Sometimes I think about my throat..” Once again you trailed off, unable to formulate the right thing.

“What about your throat, darlin’?” Sevika pushed, bringing you down on her thigh again.

“Having it squeezed, being choked in a sense.” Sevika let out a soft ‘mhm’, reaching up and cupping your face, swiping her thumb along your bottom lip before her hand fell to your throat, gently wrapping around your windpipe. Your hands rushed to her wrist as she tightened her grip, forcing your head up. She held you there, large hand wrapped tightly around your throat while her mech hand worked with your hips.

The fuzzier your brain got, the better the muscle of her thigh felt under you. Sevika rocked you and rocked you until you were finding your own pace, forcing your cunt down onto her thigh in rapid, uncoordinated motions. You were so close, stomach twisting as you gasped for air under Sevika’s hand, just for her to hold you down and restrict your movements. “Sevy,” you whined, trying to push and get to your finish.

“No baby,” she hushed. “Y’r gon’ have to wait. You can do that, can’tcha?” With a huff you nodded, wondering how long you’d have to wait. What did she even mean by ‘wait’? Sevika lifted you off her lap and stood you up, standing with you and pressing a hand into your back, pushing you until you began walking.

Her bedroom was lovely. She had a large bed, probably because she was so tall. The sheets were a dark shade of purple and made, creating a clean look for the already clean room. Once you got in the room she shut and locked the door, as if anyone else would walk in. “Sit. I’m gonna get some things, sugar. I’ll be right back.” You sat on the edge of her bed and watched her move around, first grabbing a box from a drawer and then leaving, returning shortly after with a bunched up rope.

“What’s all of that?” You asked, trying to catch a glimpse of what she had aside from the rope. God, of course she had rope. She was a rancher after all, she probably took it from the stables. She sat her things down on her nightstand next to her bed, turning to you.

“Nothin’ you needa worry your pretty little head about, sweetheart.” Sevika came to you and leaned down, tilting your chin to her and capturing your lips in a kiss. It grew from a chaste kiss to a feverous one quickly, with Sevika bearing down on you, pushing her weight into you, making you hers, just for tonight. She pulled away from you, climbing into and laying back on the bed. “Get up and strip for me, peach.”

“What if I want you to undress me?” You pouted. It felt strange, acting like this. You wanted her hands on you, you didn’t want to bother doing it yourself. That’s what you were here for. Not having to do things yourself like you did with your husband.

“You said you didn’t want borin’,” she said, nonchalantly, as she laid back and placed her human arm behind her head, muscles flexing in the best way possible to keep her upright. “So get up and strip.” Huffing, you did as told.

You would never have looked at the situation and called it something as vulgar as a strip tease, but the slowness of you stripping yourself and the way Sevika’s eyes fell upon your body as you did made the thought cross your mind. You were slow to pull your pajama top up, slow to slide your pajama shorts down your thighs, slow to rid yourself of your panties. God, she could come off the sight of it.

Once you were naked, she beckoned you over with her mech hand, having you sit in her lap. “You look so damn pretty like this, all naked in my lap.” She felt as if this was her first time having a woman in her lap. She didn’t know where to start, all of her favorite things were before her, yearning to be touched and pulled and sucked.

She leaned into your neck, sucking the skin there briefly before traveling down your body. She caught your nipple in her mouth, and by some miracle, you could’ve sworn it felt better than the first time. Maybe it was because, in her lap, you had something to grind down against when her teeth clashed over the sensitive spot in your nipple, and when she pushed her tongue up into the spot after nipping it.

“Sevika,” you moaned, head thrown back as she did her best work on your tits. Fuck, your tits. She barely thought about them the first time, but now? Now. She got to see them in all their glory, nipples perky and waiting, so fucking ready for her. She didn’t even bother with her mech arm, she needed to feel you. Feel the way your nipple hardened when she rolled it between her fingers and feel the way you gasped and ground down on her every time she made you feel good.

She made you feel good. Nobody else. Only her.

She switched tits, and she couldn’t resist rutting up into you when a string of drool dripped from your boob. She didn’t even realize she was sucking enough that drool could fucking drip from you nipple, but it was a sight from God nonetheless.

She took much longer on your tits this night than she had the previous night you spent together, and it was lovely. But, to your humiliation, you had completely soaked through her pajama pants. The material was thin, but it was sopping from your grinding and dripping. She could feel it on her leg, and the feeling was driving her up the wall.

Sevika didn’t find herself begging very often, especially not at the mercy of a woman she had in bed, but when her eyes fell between your wet nipples and the patch on her thigh, she couldn’t find herself doing anything but. “Please ride my face, sweet thing, need y’on my face.” Her hands rested on your thighs in a tight hold.

You sat up, going up and up until your cunt rested over her nose, and your thighs found purchase on either side of her head. She brought her hands to your hips and pulled, dragging you down onto her mouth. You were quick to learn that sitting on Sevika’s face was the best feeling you’d felt at this point in your life.

However, you were also quick to learn that her nose had more purpose than just fitting her face and breathing. Your clit found purpose on her nose while you rode her tongue, so much so that it made the experience that much better. You must’ve looked like a fucking slut the way you were humping her face, but the feeling of her flattening her tongue and letting you take control was one that you never wanted to escape.

Your orgasm hit you like a punch, making you double over on her face. With ease, Sevika lifted you off her face and pinned you to the bed by your lips, licking you up and making your legs shake around her head. “Sevy, it’s too much,” you whined, but she didn’t care to listen. Her middle finger was pushing against your entrance no matter how much you whimpered and moaned, finding solace in your pussy as she fucked you again.

Her pace was ruthless, fucking you with two of her fingers and arching them into the best spot inside you. You were gripping the sheets, arching your back, doing anything you could to get away from her relentless abuse of your cunt, but she was stronger than you, and you loved it.

Sevika loved it too. She loved the way that, if she wanted to, she could get you to do anything she wanted. You were easy to hold down, easy to pick up and throw around the room, she loved being bigger than you. It drove her mad, the way you looked next to her, or under her, or better yet, on top. She simply couldn’t get enough.

“We’re gon’ try somethin’ new, peach,” she kissed your pelvis, overtop where her fingers were still logged inside you. “I’m gonna stretch you out, make you all good and ready for my dick.” The words hardly registered in your head before a third finger was probing in your entrance. And it hurt. Three of her large fingers were wider than anything you had taken before, and it made you wonder how wide her strap was if her fingers were stretching you this much.

“Vika it hurts,” you cried, and she paused, letting you adjust to the feeling before pushing more in you. She adored the view, the way your pussy gaped and pulled her in. With little further struggle, all three fingers were knuckle-deep in you, and you were clenching tightly around them.

“That’s my pretty girl,” her voice was hoarse, watching you take her. If this was this good, she couldn’t imagine what her strap would look like bottomed out in you, greedy pussy sucking her in. She fucked your cunt slowly, building up your orgasm with each pump, until you were on the brink, and once you were there, she attached her lips to your clit and sucked, pulling everything she could out of you.

You came again with a shriek, overstimulation getting to the best of you. She had you coming for maybe a full minute, getting everything she could out of you before stuffing her fingers in your mouth. You hoped this would become a routine - her fucking you then making you suck your cum off her fingers. The way she looked at you was irreplaceable.

When she was finished, she was giving you a whole new set of instructions. “On your knees, face the headboard.” You did as told, waiting patiently as she trifled through her things. You felt the bed dip and her body take position behind you. “Gimme y’r hands, bunny.” The new nickname had you reeling.

You placed your hands behind your back and she gripped them both in her mechanical hand, and soon after, you felt the rough material of rope lacing your skin. She pulled tight, letting the scratchy material dig into your skin. “Be good, or I’ll have you comin’ till you can’t fucking think.” She whispered in your ear, placing a small kiss below your ear before pushing you forward and bending you over.

With a squeal, you went cheek first into the pillows, ass up. Sevika pressed her mech hand into the arch in your back, pushing down and down until you were arching up as much as you could. Sevika smirked, not that you could see. You looked so pretty like this. Your pussy was drenched, waiting for her dick. She swiped two fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness and smearing her strap with it, before lining her tip up with your entrance.

You whimpered when she pushed into you, the feeling different than her fingers. It was different than anything you’d felt - the rubber wasn’t warm like when you got fucked by your husband, obviously, and as she bottomed out, it was insatiably better than any way your husband had fucked you.

Maybe her strap was longer, or maybe it was the position she had you in, but the stretch of your cunt and the feeling of her being in you made your head spin. She pressed a firm hand into your shoulderblades as she began to work her hips, fucking you gently at first. She couldn’t watch anything but the sight of her strap disappearing fully in you, and it was growing harder and harder each breathing minute to restrain herself from fucking you as roughly as she could.

Really, there was no luck for her the minute your little uh, uh uh’s started, matching each thrust as the air got punched out of you. She grabbed your hip roughly and fucked into you harder, the skin of her thighs slapping loudly against your ass as her pace quickened.

“Fuck baby, y’r so good, such a good pussy.” She groaned, base of the harness fucking against her clit in just the right place. Her pace only got faster, and you were practically crying to god. It was no less than the best thing you'd felt in your life.

“Vika,” you moaned, dragging out the ‘a’ while her pace grew restless. She needed your pussy. It was like she was high out of her mind, addicted to your body and your cunt. “Vika, Vika, oh, daddy!” Her hips came to a stuttered stop.

Before you could apologize, her mech hand was wrapping tightly around the back of your neck and pulling you up off the bed, against her chest. She continued her original pace, the new angle hitting even better than before. “You call y’r husband that, sweetheart?” She groaned.

“No,” you whined, and she grabbed the rope, pulling you into a deeper arch against her. “Just you, Vika.” Her head fell into the crook of your neck with a deep groan.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she pushed you back down, reaching around and rubbing your clit with her human hand. Her pace and the clit stimulation had your stomach twisting. “Wanna put a baby in you,” she moaned before she could think. The conversation you guys had early resurrected in her brain, and the thought of fucking a baby into you, just the thought. Fuck, she could've come on sight.

“Please,” you whined, high pitched and fucking disgusting. “Put a baby in me Vika,” she was going to fucking explode. Her hand found your throat again, leaning over you and squeezing as she fucked you as deep as she could. You were so fucking close, the feeling almost overwhelming.

“Gon’ make you a mama, peach,” the idea crawled into her mind and she knew it would never leave. Fucking you pregnant with her baby. If she could, she would never stop. “Fuck,” her moan was much higher pitched than any of her others, and you could tell she was growing just as close as you were, “take it, take it, take it,” she moaned in between thrusts, hand only tightening around your neck. “Fucking take it, nghh,”

You came at the same time, but you could barely keep yourself from coming again when she reached down and squeezed, filling you up and leaving you spent. You moaned again, rocking back into her.

She pulled out slowly, letting you adjust to being without her as your cunt drooled. You went to move and she slapped your ass, making you yelp. “Stay.” She commanded, and you did.

It was truly a humiliating position. You were ass up, drooling like a fool while her cum dripped from your cunt. When she came back, she had a toy, and she wasted no time pressing it into you. “Keep this in ya’ till you get home, y’hear me? Need you full of my cum, bunny.”

She unraveled your hands and you rolled over, the plug shifting in you just enough to roll against your sensitive g-spot. “How'd you like that, pretty? Rough enough for my girl?” You watched as she stripped herself of her strap and put on a clean pair of purple boxers.

You simply hummed, shifting in her bed and rolling onto her pillows. “I like you a lot, Sev.” You mumbled, fuzzy, fucked out brain speaking before registering. “Wanna keep coming over.”

Sevika sighed. “Wish you could, sugar plum.” She came to you and rubbed your thighs. “But for now, you oughta get home. Y’r husband's waitin’,” you groaned, shutting your eyes tightly. “‘m sorry, angel.” You sat up, letting her bring your clothes to you.

“Where are my panties?” You asked with a pout as you trifled through the mound of clothes she presented you with.

She pressed a kiss into your forehead, but you could feel her smirk under it. “I’m keepin’ those, peach.” You giggled, slipping your top over you and standing to slip your shorts up. “You best do what I say ‘nd keep that in you.” Her tone was low as she watched you dress from her relaxed position on the bed.

“I will,” you promised, reaching over and placing a finger kiss on her lips. “Wish you could watch me drip, though.” You pouted.

“Don't say shit like that,” she growled, “or I'll have you bent over again.” You shrugged, smirk painting your lips.

“Bye Sevy,” you said quietly as you slipped on your shoes and robe. “I'll see you.” She sent you a short goodbye and you were leaving her home, traveling back across the ride and into your house.

What a life, you thought. You spent the time before you fell asleep thinking about what life would be like with Sevika. Having Sevika’s babies, walking down the aisle to Sevika. And boy, it was good to think about.

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