jayjay8899

[anguis-sapphire]

this is a bad time for discord to not be working

[tryslora]

On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene. 

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes. 

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those. 

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

[literary-motif]

Primal

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel's sister gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, anxiety/panic attack

Asirel glanced at you, lounging on the couch in his study with some papers in your hand. They looked suspiciously like the files he had been searching for last night, but he chose not to comment on it. Yet. The tentative peace — and the silence you so readily broke in your boredom — made concentrating easier, and he still needed to finish revising the pages Isaac had sent him. 

The telephone rang, and he groaned, torn out of the words on the page once more. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID, keeping his eyes on the page before him and scribbling a question to clarify later with Isaac on the margin. “Yes?”

“Mr. Cain, how generous of you to pick up,” the deep voice cooed, Asirel tensing immediately as he recognized it to belong to William Kennedy, a rather unimportant player in the real estate business — unlike his father had been — and one he was entirely ready to forget after he had run the company to the ground. 

Markets shifted. It was not entirely Asirel’s fault, but he knew better than to think his father had not warned William, telling him to keep an eye out about the Collective — or perhaps Asirel, specifically — meddling in their affairs. William had seemed just arrogant enough to blame it all on him, and Asirel liked to keep tabs on his enemies. 

“Mr. Kennedy,” he said drily, putting down the pencil to give him his undivided attention. “How can I help you?”

William chuckled, making Asirel frown. Something about the sound made him weary, drawing his guard up further as he clicked through the security footage, a little voice warning him to tread carefully. 

“It’s not so much about helping me, as it is about helping yourself,” he said cryptically, and Asirel had to suppress a scoff despite the looming threat of something unspoken between them. 

“I don’t follow.”

“Let me put it this way,” William said. Shuffling came from the other end of the line, a low groan that made Asirel’s blood freeze. “Want to say hello to your brother, dear?” 

“Fuck you.” His sister’s unmistakable snarl cut through his heart like a shard of glass. His eyes widened, and despite his best efforts, his hands began to shake. 

You smelled his surge of fear, glancing up from some intricate real estate business to look at Asirel. His heart rate was elevated, and you clicked your tongue in distaste at the scent of his blinding panic. 

“So, Mr. Cain. What are we going to do about this little predicament, hm?”

Asirel fought hard to keep his voice steady, cold, and devoid of the emotion curling in his chest. Anyone else, he would have no problem keeping his cool. Anyone else, he would have informed his trusted circle to clean up this mess with as much damage as they saw fit, but this was family. The matter was personal, and he could not help trembling at the thought that his sister was in danger. “What do you want?”

“Ever the businessman, I see. Straight to the point. My father told me you were someone not to mess with after the whole business with Incessant Inc. Do you remember Robert Kennedy? He talked highly of you before you ran us into the ground.”

His voice sounded like it came from underwater, and Asirel blinked unseeing as his mind conjured up images of his sister, tied to a chair, chained to a wall, scared, terrified while she put up a brave facade and counted on him to get her out of this mess. “Yes.”

“Anyway. How about this: you pull a few strings and get us back to the market value of roughly a year ago, and I’ll send you back this little viper without a scratch? It sounds more than fair to me, Asirel.”

The agreement was on his tongue, but he bit his lip at the last second. Desperate. It would give him the upper hand. It would reveal just how scared he was. How could he not be? It felt like someone had cut open his ribcage, and held his fearfully beating heart in their hand — ready to crush it. 

“Don’t take too long to decide. It’s awfully boring here, you know. I get bored quite easily, and when I do, all I can assure you is that she will be in one piece. Unharmed, well. We shall see about that.”

“Fine,” Asirel bit out, pouring as much venom and disdain into the word as he could, despite the pleading tone wanting to crawl up his throat and beg him not to hurt her. “Fine. Agreed. I need the rest of the week.”

“You have until tonight,” William said, his tone leaving no room to argue as the line went dead. 

Asirel did not notice you get up from your place on the couch. He could not hear anything outside of the blood rushing in his ears, his heart hammering painfully hard in his chest while reality twisted into a cruel, dangerous nightmare. He knew he needed to act, needed to do something but sit here and panic. 

He could not move, the telephone tumbling from his grip as his body felt heavy and airily light at the same time. Gravity seemed to pull him under, crush him into the ground while he was suspended in water, weightlessly drifting away as waves of fear and guilt tore at him. 

He needed to snap out of it. He needed to snap out of it. 

There were pills in the top drawer, the anxiety medication he ignored for the better part of the year always stocked in case he needed it. His hand flailed around, dragging open the drawer gracelessly as he rummaged through it for the little bottle with hands shaking annoyingly hard. 

His chest burned, and for the life of him he could not figure out why his heart was burning so much until it spasmed painfully, and he realized his breath had lodged in his throat. He squeezed the bottle tighter, uselessly trying to pry it open. 

You took it from his unsteady hands, opening it effortlessly and shaking out two pills he dry-swallowed immediately. He held onto the desk with a white-knuckled grip, taking a deep breath. “My sister—” he began.

“I heard.”

“I have to—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His gaze snapped up to look at you, impressively sharp for someone whose mind was clouded with panic not a minute ago. “There is— is no room for mistakes here. I’ll send a— a team with you.”

“I work alone.”

“No, no,” he breathed, shaking his head while his hand reached for the telephone. “Not this time, I can’t—”

You took hold of his wrist, stopping his movement while you glared at him. “You want her to be safe?” you asked, not missing how his heart rate picked up at the reminder of the peril his beloved sister was in. “Let me do what I do best, howI do it best. You know what I’m capable of.”

He considered this for a long moment, and you could see in the quiet resignation of his eyes that he agreed with you. “Fine,” he said finally, and you released his hand with a triumphant grin. “I’m coming with you.”

The disbelieving laugh tearing out of your throat made him shoot you a dark glance. “No, you won’t. You’ll drag me down.”

“I will, end of discussion,” he said, rising to his feet unsteadily. 

You suppressed a snarl. “End of discussion, yeah?” you asked, raising your shoulders in a shrug, mocking apathy as you walked over to the couch again. “Good luck fetching her by yourself, then. I go alone, or I don’t go at all.”

“Pet!” he said, his voice rough with anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, shaking in rage and fear. “This is not the time for your games. Now, come on. I command you—!”

“Oh, commanding me, are you?” you teased, flopping onto the couch again, nuzzling into the pillows as you lazily picked up the papers. “Good luck with that.”

Asirel’s eyes widened, distraught at your stubbornness. “Please,” he said, and you had to blink a few times to keep your head from spinning. He was all over the place, angry for an instant before his voice shook on the verge of tears. It was surprisingly easy to dissolve him. A few prods, a kidnapped sister and he stumbled over himself, entirely useless as he scurried around lost, like a helpless bird caught in a cage. “Don’t do this to me now, please.”

How hard you thought your heart might be, it melted at his anguished look, and you silently cursed yourself for allowing him to have this sway on you. “Fine, fine,” you said, getting up from the couch and tossing the papers aside carelessly. 

He perked up immediately, blinking away the tears in his vision. 

“I go alone,” you said. “I’m getting her back unscratched, trust me. Just sit tight, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

You saw he wanted to argue, but he bit his lip instead, giving a stiff nod. You were out the door the next second, and as the minutes ticked by and he sat uselessly in his office chair, checking security footage all around the city, the thought struck him that by all means, you should not even know where the hell it was they were keeping her. 

He did not doubt your abilities for a moment — could not allow himself to, else the panic curling in his chest like a sleeping beast would be awakened again full force — so he chose to trust you instead. Minutes ticked by, crawling into half an hour. 

Another handful of minutes, and you were gone for less than an hour that felt much too close to eternity to his restless mind, before the security cameras picked you up, strolling casually down the street with his sister on your arm, talking amicably. 

She did not look hurt. On the contrary, she seemed quite content, throwing her head back in laughter every once in a while at whatever it was you told her. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his mouth. She was safe. She was safe. 

Asirel leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. The tension headache hit him like a train, and he winced as he massaged his temples. 

“I can’t believe he said that!” his sister’s amused laugh tore him out of his thoughts, and he rose from his seat again, opening the door into the hallway where your hand was poised, ready to knock. 

She was beside you, cheeks tainted a little red from laughter, and he let instinct take over, enveloping her in a crushing hug and squeezing her so tightly against him that he feared anyone seeing the scene would find his weakness spelled out painfully clear. 

“She’s charming,” you said, giving her a cheeky grin as she chuckled in amusement. 

Asirel only held her tighter. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice muffled against her shoulder. “Did they hurt you? Did—?”

“Asirel, relax,” she said, a hand reaching up to settle between his shoulder blades. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. It was a bit annoying — the guy sat me down on this hideous couch and would not shut up about some bartender disrespecting him. I wanted to punch him, but honestly, he didn’t seem worth it.”

“I tore out his heart if you’re wondering,” you said absentmindedly, frowning at the droplets of blood on your sleeves. 

“Yeah. That was metal of you. Not very demure.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, not missing Asirel’s quiet ‘thank you’ as he continued cradling her to his chest, assuring himself — and his racing heart — that she was safe, perfectly alright, and alive. 

[lulunothulu]

“A Bullseye to the Heart” (Ch. 2)

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Latina Reader

Blurb: You’re with Phoenix trying to forget what happened at the bar but you’re stuck in your mind after having an anxiety attack. Being hit brought you back into the mindset of being in the past with the traumatic experience that happened a few years ago. Now, you’re starting to open up to Natasha, but you can’t tell her everything… no matter how close you two are.

Catch up here: Chapter 1

Contents: mentions of anxiety, domestic violence (mentioned!), trauma, some fluff, mental health/flashbacks (some)

Word count: 1,370

Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who loved the first part. I’ve always wanted to write fan fiction on here and I’m so glad you all have welcomed me with open arms 🥹 enjoy chapter 2!

-Lulu

Chapter 2

As you walk to Phoenix’s car, you can’t help but feel that rush of relief wash over you. It’s like what happened at the bar had freed you from Nick and instantly you can feel the tears coming. You have to stop in the middle of the parking lot to breathe them away.

“Y/N?” You hear Phoenix but her voice is muffled, so far away you feel like she’s miles away.

Your body starts to feel like you’ve been hit by a truck, everything around you turns to black. You slowly feel yourself fall back into that dark mindset you fought so hard to get out of. Flashes of men over you, knives and wicked smiles aimed at you and your body. Another flash of your body, broken and battered in the mirror of the hospital the people who found you brough you to. Your face was bruised, hardly recognizable and yet, still you.

Oh God. Please take me out of this. Don’t let me fall into–

You feel hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you.

“Y/N!” 

You blink and as quickly as it started, it ends. Phoenix stands before you, eyes wide and breathing as rapidly as you are. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

“You were having a panic attack or something,” Phoenix tells you. She rubs your arms lightly before asking, “What was that about? Are you okay?”

“I must’ve been triggered by everything,” You tell her. It’s true, you know for a fact that you were triggered especially because Nick hit you. 

This episode, however, felt different. It felt like when you first came back. When you wouldn’t let anyone but Rooster and Phoenix touch you. When you couldn’t sit in the box and let the canopy close shut because you felt like you were being closed in that dark, secluded room again.

“Let’s get to my place and we can talk about it,” Phoenix says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“If you don’t mind,” You start. “I’d rather not talk about this.”

“You have to talk about it with someone.” Phoenix leads you to her car, looking around the parking lot.

“That’s what my therapist is for,” You joke. 

Phoenix shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it!”

Later that night, you’re tossing and turning in bed next to Natasha. You can’t stop thinking–and dreaming–about what happened at the bar. The dream then somehow circulates to dreams about laying in the grass, body bloodied and bruised.

You don’t like to talk about it—let alone think and dream about it—but you know you have to tell someone. Maybe you’ll tell Nat when she wakes up but then again, you don’t want to burden her with the details.

Instead, you get out of bed and walk into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you grab a bottle of water and begin to drink it while you look at the pictures on Nat’s fridge. 

There’s a few of her and Rooster smiling into the camera, arms wrapped around each other, another of the whole gang smiling together with Pete on the tarmac. But the one that makes you freeze is one with you, Phoenix, and Rooster the day before your jet went down and you went missing.

You remember that day distinctly. You played it over and over in your mind.

You weren't worried about the mission. All you had to do was bomb a weapon’s shelter and then get out of there. 

Easy work. You could do it with yoru eyes closed.

That night, Rooster and Phoenix took you out to dinner at one of your favorite restaurants and you all finished the night at Hard Deck. You were happy, excited even. When the morning came around, you felt something deep in your gut. Something was going to happen and you didn’t know if it was good or bad. Either way, this mission was an open and shut kind of case. And because the mission was so easy, they sent you alone.

Shaking the memories of that day out of your mind, you walk back into Phoenix’s room to find her already sitting up and waiting for you.

“You wanna talk about why you’ve been tossing and turning?” She asks. 

“Not really,” You start. “But I assume you’re going to keep asking so I’ll just tell you.”

You climb into her bed and get comfortable, knowing that she’s watching you intensely. “I keep having dreams about what happened at the bar.”

“And?”

“Jesus Nat. I forgot how much you can read me,” you chuckle. Then turning serious you add, “I keep seeing myself how I was when they found me.”

“How was that?” Natasha whispers.

Your voice catches on your throat and you feel the sob wanting to escape. Instead, you swallow it down and make yourself say, “I was bloodied, bruised. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t—”

You can’t bring yourself to finish that sentence. You squeeze your eyes shut before feeling Nat grab your hand.

“You don’t have to tell me all of the details. Not yet at least,” she starts. “When you’re ready, you can come to me.”

“I haven’t had those types of dreams in more than three months,” You croak. “It’s just something about whenever Nick gets violent that sets me off.”

“This has happened before?” You look up from your hands to see Natasha’s eyes hard in anger.

“Yeah,” you respond. “It started a month after coming back.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“Remember that day Rooster had to carry me out of the F14?” You don’t wait for her to respond, you know she remembers. “There were bruises all over my back and legs.”

You snicker coldly before adding, “He’s very good at hurting me where no one can see it.”

“He’s in the navy too, right? Why didn’t you report him?” She asks. 

“I couldn’t,” you whisper.

“What does he have on you?” 

You shake your head, looking back down at your hands before you feel the tears fall. Your shoulder slump and begin to shake as you start to cry. You never told anyone that Nick was hurting you not to protect him but because deep down, you felt like you deserved it. You deserved to be hurt. You failed the mission and that was your punishment. You were caught and you deserved to hurt as much as you did for those four months you were kept and missing to the world.

You can feel Nat scoot closer to you, wrapping her arms around you and bringing you both down into the pillows.

You let her. 

You let her hold you. You let her softly tell you it’s okay. You let her squeeze you tight and wipe your eyes dry. 

Even when you’ve stopped crying, Natasha doesn’t let you go. You’re sniffing when she says, “We need to tell Bradley.”

“No,” you tell her. “He’ll make things worse and besides, Nick should be out of my apartment by the morning.”

“You need to get a restraining order too,” she tells you. “Can’t hurt, right?”

“I’d have to tell his commanding officer and honestly, I think he’ll leave me alone. Especially with you guys around,” you tell her. 

“Okay,” she says. “Can we go back to sleep? Rooster wanted to go for a run tomorrow morning. Well, today should I say.”

“Sure.”

An hour later, you’re still awake. You stare up at the ceiling and let Nat cuddle you in her sleep. You secretly like it, though. Hugs and cuddles from Phoenix are rare so you take whatever she’ll give you.

You check your phone to see some texts from Nick–begging you to forgive him like he always does–and another couple from Rooster and surprisingly, Bob. You click on the one from Bob and smile when you see two pictures of Fanboy, Coyote, Payback, Rooster, Bob, and Hangman–Jake–smiling at the camera. The second one consists of them making weird faces and captioned, “We hope this makes you smile, Y/N.”

You quickly type back a response, save the pictures to your camera roll, and close the messages app, tossing your phone onto the bed beside you and sighing to yourself.

What a weird day.

Next part

tags: @akilatwt @russopalette

[lowkeyremi]

The lust in his eyes was very noticeable by anyone who tried hard enough to see it.

Keigo was not even trying to hide it either. His sexiness was overbearing and you could feel it from across the room.

"He's looking over here again.." Your friend says unaware of the relationship between you and Keigo. You'd tell her, but because of your jobs it's hard to go public. He's a pro-hero and a double agent while you're an underground hero. The media would go crazy if they knew about you two. There would be a mixture of shock, anger, maybe even respect, but the Hero Commission has advised against going public... strongly.

"Really?" You ask and take a sip of whatever your friend has ordered you. Honestly your attention was lost long ago. Keigo has kept your attention all night.

As an underground hero you'd usually avoid huge social gatherings like these but Keigo convinced you to go. Popular heroes like Endeavor, Best Jeanist, and even Mirko were standing around posing, being interviewed, talking to other heroes, etc. Keigo had noticed your discomfort right away, so being as cheeky as he is he texted you to meet him in a secluded area ten minutes after he walked over there.

When you went over to him the blond started complimenting you. He talked about how pretty you look in your dress, he praised you for doing your hair and makeup, and so on. That was about two hours ago...

"Yeah, I think he wants to fuck you because if those aren't bedroom eyes then I don't know what is." She squeals and wiggles her brows at you.

A real smile invaded your face for maybe the 3rd time tonight. You were being uptight because of the Commission's words. Even though this is a private event, you didn't want to risk it. Keigo clearly didn't care (not surprising at all) because he was openly flirting with you.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder. "May I have a dance with you, beautiful?" Some hero you couldn't bother to remember asks you. Several men and women had already asked something similar which you had kindly turned down.

"I'm good than-" A cheeky arm wrapped around your waist and you began to panic.

"What business do you have with my wife?" Keigo questions and you about have a heart attack.

"Hawks?! Wife... oh my- I'm so sorry. I didn't know." The hero scurries off and you glare at your husband.

You couldn't even get a word in because your friend yells in shock and excitement, "you're married?! To Hawks?!" You hold a finger to your lips and your eyes widen. Its no use though because people are already looking at you and Keigo, whispering things you can't hear.

In seconds there's a TV crew in your face.

"Number two pro hero, Hawks has been secretly married. What is it like being his wife?" Some lady with a mic asks.

Some other guy asks, "How long have you two been married?"

If you were overwhelmed before than you're extremely overwhelmed now.

Your friend looks at you a frown on her face as she tries to apologize for bringing attention over to you two.

Keigo scoops you up bridal style, and flies out of an open window, "Adios, paparazzi~" he says.

When you two get far enough away he lands and sets you down, "darling... i'm so sorry. I just had enough, you were hit on like eight times and it made my stomach drop." He says softly.

You glare at him, "that's no excuse Keigo! I am your wife. Which means I married you, which means I'm not going to be swayed by some random hero asking me out! Do you have any trust in me?!" You shout at him, anger seeping through your tone.

"It's not you baby, its me.. I fear you'll find someone better suited for you..." his voice is small as he speaks.

"Keigo Takami. How long have we been together for?" you ask sternly.

His golden eyes meet yours, "three years."

"Not married, how long have we been together in general?" you ask clearing up your question.

"Oh.. forever." He says with a weak smile.

"Exactly, which means I have no reason to leave you!" A sigh escapes your lips.

You gesture for him to come closer, he does. You cup his face and kiss him softly.

You can tell he wants more from the way he squeezes your hips but you pull back with a lazy smirk.

"You are going to get a fucking earful from the Commission." you say with a dry chuckle.

He pales at your statement.

"Oh shit... they're gonna skin me alive..." he groans.

"Should have thought about that before basically telling all of Japan I'm yours." You say with a shrug.

He scoops you up bridal style again and flies you two home.

"It was totally worth it though." He smirks.

You roll your eyes at him, your husband is something else.

[masturbucky]

The Intruder

DARK!Winter Soldier x fem!reader

Summary: You had issues with sleeping for the past two weeks. You wake up every night and you swear you can feel someone's staring from the shadows, but there's no one, and you know it's your imagination. Sometimes you feel touches. When you're tired of your mind tricks, you start taking those sleeping pills. It's good for you, and for the man who watches your sleep every night, too. But you dont need to know that. You need to sleep.

WARNINGS: DARK REALLY DARK PLEASE BE AWARE(!!!), Smut, Somnophilia, NON-CONSENSUAL EVERYTHING, AGAIN IT'S A FUCKING RAPE, Obsessive behavior, unprotected p in v, WS basically romanticizes from his sick point what he does to you, no y/n, literally NO comfort, creampie, marking, a bit of knife play(he tears your shirt off and touches you with a knife a bit), a lot of mentions of death by WS, choke kink if you squint, dacryphilia if you squint, what else? ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE! Also I kinda forgot to post it when I finished it and so i remembered only like an hour ago, changed some stuff a bit, but grammar errors are still on the table yk. Also, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. I'M NOT YOUR DADDY I CAN'T TELL YOU SHIT, I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A MINOR, IT'S YOUR PROBLEM.

You sigh, dropping your bag on the couch while slipping out of your shoes on the way to the kitchen. It's a living hell, you think.

Two fucking weeks you can't sleep. You wake up every night, a several times at least, with a fucking panic attack, or in a sleep paralysis, or whatever the fuck it is — you don't know, you don't care, you just want it to stop.

The thing is, you're going insane.

Every night the reason you wake up is this feeling of someone's eyes on you. Someone's staring at you, from the shadowed corner of your room, every night and it doesn't stop. At first you weren't brave enough to look. On the thrid night you said fuck it and turned the light on, looking around. No one, nothing, no trace of anyone's presence. The fuck you expected to see? The windows were closed, same goes to the door — you checked, three times and one more to be sure — and you were honestly confused and tired enough to get back to sleep. Only for the same thing to happen the following night. And the next one. And again, and again, and again.

You changed locks. Better safe than sorry, you know?

It didn't helped. You still feel watched every night.

Sometimes YOU SWEAR you could feel lingering touches on your body. Cold or warm.

Again, you're going insane.

You bought a fucking camera and installed it in your bedroom under the ceiling just to find your sleepy self and your scared to hell awake self, walking around and searching for the fucking intruder, on it in the morning.

You tried to invite your friends over for the night, but — what am I, a fucking joke? — they all laughed at you, when you told your story. Fuck them, really, you should consider searching for new friends.

You decided to go to the therapist your friend (the only one who, thankfully, didn't laughed with the rest, but still brushed you off) recommended you. The point is, you'll have to wait a month to get an appointment in their busy schedule. You ain't gonna wait so long, you need to sleep for fuck's sake.

That's being said, here you are. Reading an instruction list to Flurazepam, which is like a fucking blanket itself, and grinning like an idiot, excited. Fuck your brain really, fuck it's dumb imagination, fuck the imaginary intruder! You need your sleep and you'll get your sleep, thanks to medicine!

Tonight you eat, shower, read your evening book and get to bed happily, excited to finally get some sleep. Maybe you take a bit more Flurazepam than needed. Just in case, you know?

***

He entered your apartment the same way as always - it wasn't hard to steal your keys and make a copy. He's used to be unnoticed, they would've been disappointed if he was careless enough to let you know about his mere existence. So far, you're stupid enough not to look into details. Smart enough to try and change locks and install a camera, smart enough to show him that you're safe from everyone, but him.

He stops the recording of this damn camera before walking into your room. He solved this problem the first night you installed it. It's a nice kind of change, he must admit. Seeing you from different angle other than from cameras he installed before is nice, truly. Beautiful, clever and caring about his... needs, even without knowing about him. That's what makes you so divine.

Tonight... To be honest, he was waiting for this just as much as you. He was excited, even. For your sleep and his next move in your relationship, if he could call it that.

He takes his mask and glasses off, walking closer to your bed, to your sleeping, relaxed. Asleep, more calm than usual. Just like the first night. Your breath is soft, heartrate is slow, the pills you took obviously worked. You probably took a bit more than you should have, his dumb little thing you are.

He doesn't know how it all happened, to be honest.

What he knows is, he needs you. Badly. All the time, day and night, needs to see your beauty and he needs to be close to something as perfect as you. He thought they wiped everything that could've been even close to what he feels towards you, but apparently they only made it worse.

More likely they know where he disappears every night to. They know everything, and he noticed how much easier it became to sneak out. And if they know and let it be, then he's allowed to have this. Which probably gives them even more power over him.

But he doesn't care. As long as he can see his angel, as long as he can touch something as perfect as you are, he doesn't give a fuck about what else Hydra would make him do. Consider it done. Consider it dead.

He takes his gloves off, kneeling down beside your bed. Slides your blanket off your body, and takes a deep breath. You're in your usual clothes of choice — this tempting shirt, which he often can see your nipples through, which he allows himself to touch sometimes even, and a comfy pair of underwear. He doesn't know what other men usually consider sexy, but for him it is whatever you wear. Especially this pair of panties.

Brings his hand to your thigh, more confidently than usual strokes the smooth skin up, touching the soft material of your underwear and sliding under the warmth of your shirt, to your belly. He doesn't need to be careful now. You won't wake up anyway, you're too deep in your slumber, thanks to those pills.

He almost groans only at the feeling of your soft, warm skin under his fingertips. It's not often when he touches you UNDER your clothes. Too much of a risk, he never intended to wake you up. It would mean a too big step, he doesn't need you to put up a fight and resist too much. If so, he would have to hurt you. And take you away. He's not ready to do that just yet.

But now? Now he can at least do that much without rushing things into it's natural ending. He could have you now, he could taste you now, and then he would prepare to take you somewhere where he would do that as often as possible. He just has to be patient.

For now he could just leave you a message of who you belong to. A promise, of sorts.

The bed cracked under his weight loudly, thanks god you're so deep in your sleep, and the blade shines in the moonlight, so does the hand, the whole arm. Soldier knows that what he's about to do will break you. But a broken angel is still an angel, a fallen one is not.

However, he's very clear with his messages.

Your shirt goes first. The material breaks easily on a sharp knife, he uses it to kill after all, and he's devouring every second of it. He prays that it wont be possible to erase from his mind, just like it was with you, with his angel.

"Beautiful," He breathes out, his voice hoarse and his throat hurts. He hasn't talked in quite some time.

Your shirt is no longer on his way. And oh god, seeing your chest again makes him believe in heaven, whatever this is. When you'll be his, you won't be wearing any clothes at all. It will be his personal heaven.

"So beautiful..." He lowers the knife to your chest, tracing soft skin, nipples with the backside of it. He could so easily switch the side, he could leave a permanent mark on you, a reminder of your first night as his, but he wont. Not now, at least.

Then he lowers the blade to your underwear. Two simple cuts on either sides - and it's just as dysfunctional as the shirt. But he doesn't think you'll need them anyway, now. He might as well just... Take them, as a little reminder for himself? A promise.

He lifts your pretty legs up, resting them on his shoulders when he settles in between, and slides the thorn material from under you with his flesh arm. He wants to feel this. He wants to savor every touch.

Your panties are left in the pocket of his pants, and he returns his full attention to you. Only if you knew how beautiful you are right now, naked for him, ready for him. He would show you, one day. When you would be conscious and used to him, his presence, his touches. For now, this will do.

The knife is back in it's holder, and he lowers to your warm body. Hands slide up your waist to your tits, and the left one to your neck. Metal fingers trace the warm, delicate skin, pressing ever so slightly. The only time he really focuses on how much pressure he adds. Looks just perfect on you.

He can't wait anymore.

Right hand slides off your body to lower his pants, just enough to free his almost uncomfortable erection. He was so mesmerized by your beauty that he completely forgot about himself.

Leans back slightly, once again admiring the view. His angel, so perfect and peaceful, in her sleep. Your calm face, delicate neck, chest, your belly, legs and, a fucking paradise, your pussy. He can't see much, but he knows its perfect. He had seen it, many times, on the cameras. He also knows what you play with, and where you hide it. Lower drawer of your nightstand.

Soldat leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses on your neck, tasting your skin. It's his time to enjoy, his moment to savor, so he slides his hand down to your exposed to him — only him — heat. You're wet, just a bit. Enough for him, at least. Touching you is a privilege already.

Your legs are pushed up, over his thighs. He doesn't know if he wants to hurry up or take his time, it feels like he needs both. Contradictions became natural to him since he found you.

A deep breath. He lined himself up with your entrance, stroking himself slowly, just a bit. Smearing his precum over your clit and soft folds, enjoying the moment. It's so strange to be so overwhelmed. So excited. You make him feel things he didn't knew he was able to feel, and you have no clue. You will, eventually.

He pushes in slowly, groaning and almost cumming right away, holding himself back and biting on your neck. He takes a second to remind himself about how to breathe. Unbelievable. You feel like death. The best feeling ever, the only good feeling.

When he's fully in, he thinks that calling it a heaven would've been an understatement. Your insides around him are so much more.

When he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, that's where he could've die happily.

You're so warm. So tight, squeezing his manhood just right. It's where he belonged, it's where he feels complete and forgiven. Your walls hug his dick perfectly, and he want's to stay in there until he fades away. And he wants more.

He's greedy when he starts moving. In and out, slowly at first, but getting faster — yes, he's greedy. He's guilty in more than greed, he doesn't care. With your pussy taking him so well, with your warm body under his hands, his lips, just under him — he doesn't care. It's all his, you're his.

Oh how he wants to hear more than those sweet whimpers from you.

He can imagine. His angel, you, under him, hands gripping on his arms, you'll be begging him for more and crying for him, clamping down on him so deliciously and needy. You'll be screaming — screaming the name he can't quite imagine, he can't remember, but he knows you'll be screaming it. One day.

He will take his time to praise you, to tell you how good you are for him, angel, taking all he can give, giving all you have. He will make sure you're shaking and breaking all over again on his cock, tears smeared all over your face and you're drooling with this fucked out look on your divine face-

Oh god, more. He needs more of you, he takes all he can take.

He will leave so much marks on your body, just like now, over your chest and your neck, while you'll be squeezing him inside and begging, begging for his seed-

He cums with a groan, slurred fuck left his lips, headboard of your bed cracks under his metal hand. Aftershock hit the Soldat hard. Right hand gripping on your hip, his breath is ragged and he barely remembers how to breath correctly — he knows this feeling well, but from the bad side. Now? It's euphoric. He doesn't want it to end, he wants to die right here and there, buried deep inside of your heat, with you taking his cum so well, his beautiful angel.

He opens his eyes after what feels like a blissful eternity, his gaze slowly focuses on you under him. He can hear your breath, hard and ragged, he can see a layer of sweat over your body. Small smile cracks on his face. Even in your sleep, you accepted him. You enjoyed it.

He doesn't want to pull out, but he does so anyway. He reminds himself that it's not the last time. He'll have enough chances to do it again with you, after all. He knows what to do. He knows how. He just needs to prepare it.

Soldat looks down, mesmerized by how his seed leaks out of you. There's so much, he has to resist the urge to push it back in. Or to lick it out.

You're so perfect, his beautiful angel. But he has to go.

On a second thought...

He reaches out to your nightstand, barely even looking up from your pretty cunt, still leaking with his cum. Grabs his mask and glasses. Puts both on quickly, then grabs the remote control of your camera from his pocket, and presses on.

After all, he should be very clear with his messages.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 2

Now on Ao3

Chapter 1 All chapters

Chapter 2: Fourth Division Commanders

TW: implied past abuse, y/n has a panic attack

Everything in Italics are y/n’s thoughts.

_____________________________________________________

You looked back and forth between Vista and Oldest Brother. Looking between them you could see some physical similarities. They had the same body type and predilection for wearing open shirts. Vista was grinning widely and even Oldest had a small smile on his face. Something you had never seen before - it was a little unnerving.

Vista came up to his brother, pinched his cheek and hugged him about the neck. Oldest gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and said to the pirate “looking as ugly as ever Brother.” All the men laughed with no malice. Vista happily faced his companions gesturing to Oldest and said “My oldest brother. Call him Oldest. You met Heavy and Baby last night. The three of them stayed here with Da while I went out to sea and they opened this bar. It was always just the three of them here after Da died.” 

He surveyed you with a mildly amused expression on his face “that is, until now. Seems a sister has joined the family.” Oldest just grunted as his response and took the folded newspaper from under his arm and placed it on the bar top. You were thankful Oldest was there so you didn’t have to respond.

You realized you were pinching the skin on the sides of your fingers - never a good sign. It was time to go. “Nice meeting everyone,” you said while holding up your hand in a small wave “but I’m going to get going.”

“Sit girl” Oldest said simply. His tone didn’t have any wiggle room for misinterpretation. You didn’t sit down but didn’t move any farther away either. He gave you an intense stare that you didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thought you said you weren’t a pirate” he finally said in his gravelly voice.

Your eyebrows pinched together in the middle. You had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m not,” you said with confusion in your voice. The others in the bar had become quiet, watching the interaction play out.

“Look then,” as he opened the folded newspaper and slid a wanted poster your way. Your anxiety was increasing second by second. You turned over the paper and glanced down. It was a picture of you, from about a year ago. You looked much thinner, and your eyes were glassy - almost dead inside. You had no expression on your face besides general misery. You were dirty and had a thin shirt covering your bony chest.

WANTED: Y/N L/N - 4th Division Commander of the Twisted Pirates

ALIVE ONLY. BOUNTY - 25,000 Beri.

Below that was a physical description of you that was nearly accurate. It also included your “crime” of sinking a merchant Marine vessel and going on the run for years. 

You gripped the paper between both hands. This couldn’t be happening this couldn’t be happening what was this what was happening. You couldn’t hear anything you couldn’t see anything you were just looking at the paper only the paper. Your neck felt like it was filled with stinging bees. What were you going to do what were you going to do you couldn’t go back you couldn’t go back you couldn’t go back they were gonna take you back gonna find you gonna take you

You were jerked out of your thought loop when Oldest gently touched your shoulder. You looked up at him with your eyes as wide as they could go. He said something you couldn’t hear. You were looking at him but also not looking at him at anything at anyone. Were you in your body? Was he talking to you? Or were you looking at yourself from outside your body. Pinch your fingers to find out if its real pinch harder pinch...

You did suddenly remember there were other people there. Your heart was pounding but your limbs felt numb. You couldn’t remember what was happening but you needed out. Now. Outside now or you were going to puke inside. Puke inside clean it up puke again clean it up again again again. Outside was always better always better could breathe could move always better. You felt like you were dying were you dying dying dying would dying be better? Gonna die on that ship gonna die on that ship gonna die gonna die. Still clutching the paper you mumbled to him “g’na take a break.” You tried to walk as normally as you could manage to the door out to the back alley.

Oldest watched you leave the bar. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Marco, Thatch, Vista exchanged a look between them. 

“What?” said Ace shrugging a shoulder at them. “It’s not even a high bounty. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You fuckin’ idiot,” Thatch said as he smacked Ace on the back of the head. He started following after you out the back door of the bar. 

Marco POV

He didn’t know who was more surprised over the Wanted poster - you or him. You were clearly not a pirate - and definitely not a Commander. You were uncomfortable with seemingly any conflict -which was kind of a prerequisite for being an outlaw. And your reaction to the poster had been extreme. Looking down at the poster, he saw your old picture and frowned. You were obviously being mistreated by someone during that time. And it seems they wanted you back.

He halfway listened to Vista talking to his brother. Vista’s brothers were good people - Marco had known them for a long time. It was always nice to visit the Brothers - and they usually gave out some free booze too. But his mind kept wandering back to you. There were so many unanswered questions and surprises from the day that he wanted to dig into, especially with the addition of this new information.

His first surprise had come when you opened the door. Having graced the doorway of The Brothers Bar for many years, he had been expecting the grizzled Heavy or even a surly Baby to open the door. Instead, he had looked down at a sweet looking someone. Never in all the years he had known the Brothers had they ever hired anyone. Especially not a woman. He wasn’t even sure he had ever seen more than a handful of women in the bar over the years.

But there you were, hair piled high on top of your head, wearing worn clothes with your sleeves rolled up, a too-large apron dwarfing your body. You were a sweet little thing, looking annoyed and professional at the same time. Physically, you were definitely his type - in a different setting, he would have flirted with you to try to get you into his bed. Or maybe even join him and Thatch - he and Thatch had similar interests and shared a few women over the years. But you were anxious at seeing them and clearly wanted them gone. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have the courage - or maybe the ability - to say no to them coming into the bar. 

Despite your timid nature you didn’t immediately tell the pirates that Ace was there when questioned. You deflected their questions even though you were outnumbered and outclassed. You even went to speak with Ace privately before he entered the room in case he needed time to fight or flee. From Ace’s story, he knew you had met that morning so it's not like you were old friends. Why were you being so…kind? Why were you being so protective of Ace, someone you had just met? Normally civilians were either indifferent to pirates or outright hostile. It seemed that you helped Ace and didn’t ask anything in return. Were you trying to curry favor with Oyaji? It didn’t seem likely since you didn’t ask any of them any questions about their activities or even seem to recognize them at first sight.

An even more surprising event from the morning was that Ace had actually showered in your apartment. Ace was normally emotionally distant from strangers. Polite, charming, handsome, charismatic, but distant. He only truly relaxed when he was with his siblings or alone on Striker. Thatch’s comment wasn’t too far off either - the Whitebeard Pirate commanders usually had a pool going betting on when Ace would shower next. The longest he had gone without showering was 22 days, and it only ended because they strong armed him into the shower after they could no longer bear his stench. Ace was a little more feral than most people knew. Ace didn’t comply with any social etiquette that he didn’t want to, being raised by tigers or lions or whatever it was he said was on that island.

But for you, he had taken a shower (with soap!), brushed his hair, drank what you gave him, ate your food, followed you around, hung on your every word, probably sniffed your panties… Ace certainly warmed up to you quickly. Marco wondered if Ace had also found you as cute and edible as he did... Ace was young and inexperienced but seemed like he’d be eager to learn. Maybe with a guiding hand he could join in with you and…Marco yanked his thoughts away from the subject. More to think on at a later time.

With that, he could also admit to himself that his feathers were a little ruffled that you had recognized Ace but not himself, Vista, or Thatch. They had been around a lot longer than Ace had and their bounties were higher. They were iconic pirates after all! His ego was bruised more than anything. He was going to ask you about it later - maybe when things were less tense. 

The back door opened and Heavy and Baby entered the bar. Similar to their brother, they grunted, took a shot, then smiled at Vista. Non verbal communication went a long way with Vista’s family it seemed.

“Oi. Oldest. Vista’s in town.”

“No shit Baby. You couldn’t have told me last night?”

“Nah, was too drunk with Mustachio and Birdy here. Had a table throwing contest. Besides, you seemed to have figured it out all right.”

After greeting the other two brothers, Marco started tuning back into what everyone was talking about. You were on everyone’s mind that morning. 

“See the papers?” spat out Heavy.

“Yep” replied Oldest and Baby in unison.

“It’s fucked” retorted Heavy. “She’s no pirate, can’t hold a sword, knife, gun, nothing. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her make a fist even. Can’t turn a corner without shaking like a leaf. If she’s a Commander, I’m Whitebeard. Something is going on.” The three Brothers and Vista all simultaneously crossed their arms and started frowning. If not for the topic of conversation it would have been something Marco teased them about.

“Why’d you hire her yoi?” asked Marco during the brief lull.

The Brothers looked at one another. Heavy and Baby tilted their heads towards Oldest who narrowed his eyes at them in annoyance and began. “Well, see, it’s like this,” started Oldest “Obviously her fruit power is helpful, we won't deny that. Saves us buckets of Beri almost every day. But the truth is we didn’t really hire her. We found her. A few months ago, there was a shipwreck and crates from the destroyed boat started washing ashore. We were openin’ ‘em, taking whatever was inside ‘em. Well, we opened one, and there she was. Sealed inside, starved skinny as a skeleton, and nearly dead…

[lousypotatoes]

Everyone From The Place

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11

Song Recommendation:

Everybody Loves My Baby - Jack Palmer

Warning! This chapter had mentions of physical/mental abuse and panic attacks, and depictions of mental abuse. If any of these topics trigger you or make you uncomfortable, please read with caution.

90 years ago...

It had been about a month since Y/N and Alastor went out drinking together, the two of them going out every other day, whether it be getting drinks, getting dinner or lunch together, or just the two of them walking around New Orleans.

Y/N would never admit it to anyone, but she was absolutely head over heels in love with Alastor. The way he talked, the way he presented himself, how he was such a gentleman, she loved every part of him and so much more.

Alastor felt the same way about her, maybe even more. The way her face lit up whenever she talked about flowers or Honey, her sense of humor, the way she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She didn't know it, but she had Alastor wrapped around her finger.

And he loved every single second of it.

"That'll be three dollars, ma'am," Y/N said smiling, handing over the bouquet of lilies to the woman.

"Thank you, dear," the old woman smiled, handing Y/N money. "You have a lovely shop,"

"Well, thank you kindly," Y/N said. "I'm guessin' you're visitin' from outta town?"

"How did you know?" the woman asked.

"Every soul here in New Orleans has stepped foot in my shop at least once," Y/N said, handing the woman her change.

"For good reason," the woman said. "It's very impressive what you've done with the place. Not a lot of women can say that they own a thriving business. Especially during these trying times."

"Ah, I get that a lot," Y/N said. "Where you from anyway? If you don't mind me askin' of course."

"A small little town in Kansas," the woman said. "My daughter lives here and I'm visiting for her birthday."

"That's nice," Y/N gushed. "You tell her I said happy birthday. You have a good rest of your day ma'am."

"You as well, dear," the woman said as she walked out the door.

Y/N took the cash from the register and put it in the back room. While she was in there, she checked her schedule. She was glad that she didn't have to kill anyone that night. Even though she had been doing it for 15 years, the job left her exhausted and sleep deprived.

Who knew being an assassin was such hard work?

Walking out the backroom door, she saw a familiar face, looking at the arrange of flowers, holding a brown paper bag.

"What'll it be today Alastor?" Y/N said loudly, making him jump.

"Don't scare me like that, dear," he said, adjusting his coat. "I could of knocked over the flowers."

"You tip over any of them vases, you're payin' the bill," she laughed. "Besides, that was payback for all the times you've scared me."

"All right, all right," Alastor said, walking over to the counter. "I'll take these here marigolds."

"Marvelous pick," Y/N said. "That'll be four bucks,"

"How's business today?" Alastor asked, taking out money.

"Slow, but that's because no one wants to come outta their house, it's so hot out here," Y/N laughed. "How was the broadcast this morning? I didn't get the chance to listen to it."

"It went alright," he said, taking his change. "There were these women who kept trying to wriggle their way into the station, though."

"Seems like you have some mighty eager fans," she giggled. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh! I almost forgot! Thank you for reminding me," he said, handing her the brown bag. "I figured you wouldn't want to go out in this blistering heat, so I fetched you some lunch."

Y/N was touched. "You didn't have to do that, Al,"

"Yes, but I wanted to,"

Y/N reached into the bag. "Oh! You got me gumbo!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up in the way Alastor loved. "How'd you know?"

"I remember you telling me once," Alastor smiled.

"Thank you so much Alastor!" Y/N said. "Tell you what, tomorrow night, swing by my place and I'll whip up a batch of jambalaya for you."

Alastor's face turned red, the two of them had never been to each others house before. The only times were when Alastor would pick Y/N up for their outings together. Him only ever stepping foot in her living room.

"You don't have to do that, Y/N," Alastor said, covering his blushing face.

"Nonsense!" Y/N waved off. "It's the least I can do for you, fetchin' me lunch."

"Well, if you insist, my dear," Alastor said. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to make it to my-"

"-2'oclok broadcast. Yes I know," Y/N interrupted. "I know the routine by heart now."

Alastor smiled, taking Y/N's hand in his "I shall see you tomorrow then, Y/N." he said, kissing her knuckle.

"I'm lookin' forward to it already," Y/N blushed.

Looking at her face one more time, smiling gently to himself, he left the store.

When he left, Y/N started giggling to herself. She was so in love with him. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl. She was so distracted that she didn't even hear the bell ring, signaling that a customer came in.

"Seems like you finally got this establishment up and runnin'," said a voice that made Y/N freeze, her eyes widening.

She turned and saw a man with wavy brown hair and cold eyes. Someone that made her blood freeze and goosebumps appear all over her skin. Someone that made her skin go pale and her breathing quicken. Someone that made her freeze in fear.

"What? So startled by my appearance that you're speechless?" the man smirked.

"W-What-" she stuttered, finding her voice. "What in God's name are you doin' here, Jasper?"

"Ain't I allowed to visit my fiancé at work?" Jasper said, coming closer to the counter.

"That was fifteen years ago!" she said, backing into the wall. "Me and you are nothin' now!"

"Just because I ended up behind bars doesn't mean we're finished,"

"That's exactly what that means!" she yelled. "You know you can't be within fifty feet of me. Now leave before I call the cops!"

Jasper didn't say anything, instead picking up a vase of carnations, admiring them.

CRASH!

Glass shards and flowers were scattered all over the floor.

"Oops," Jasper said.

"I mean it Jasper!" Y/N said. "Get the fuck out!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that again, you worthless bitch," he said, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Unless you want me to beat you to a bloody pulp, just like old times."

Y/N backed into the wall, lost for words.

For the first time in fifteen years, Y/N felt scared.

"Just go away, Jasper," she whispered. "Please. I don't want any trouble."

Jasper didn't say anything, instead picking up another vase and dropping it onto the floor.

Without another word, Jasper left.

As soon as he was out of sight, Y/N's body shut down, her having to grab onto the counter to support herself. She let out a sob she didn't even know she was holding in, her cries bouncing off the flower shop walls, and her tears streaming down her face.

After about ten minutes of this, she got out a broom, and started sweeping up the glass shards and flowers. After she was done, she leaned up against the wall. Looking up at the clock above her, she saw that it was only two-fifteen.

"I need a drink," she said, exhausted.

It was now five-thirty, Y/N was sitting at the bar, sipping on her fourth thing of whiskey.

As soon as she closed up the flower shop, she decided to walk to Mimzy's bar, not bothering to go home and change.

She was there for about thirty minutes. Mimzy had been over to check on Y/N during those, sensing that she wasn't okay. Y/N had told Mimzy she was alright and that she just wanted to be left alone. Mimzy listened and told her that her drinks were free for the rest of the time she was there.

Already deciding before she got there, Y/N didn't want to get blackout drunk, but just drunk enough to where she would forget her and Jasper's interaction.

Sipping on her whiskey, Y/N felt angry at herself. She could have shot that asshole right in his head if she wanted to, she was an assassin for crying out loud.

But Jasper was the one person she was genuinely afraid of.

"Why aren't you smiling, my dear?" said a voice from behind her. "You know you're never fully dressed without one."

"Hi, Alastor," she said, not even turning to look at him.

Alastor frowned, knowing that something was wrong.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, keeping her gaze on her glass. "I just had a bad interaction with a customer, that's all."

Alastor stayed silent as he sat down at the bar next to her.

"Would you like to me to keep you company?" he asked gently. "Or would you like me to leave?"

"Stay here," Y/N said, holding back tears. She felt pathetic. "Please."

"Alright then," he said.

"If I would have known you'd be here, I would have invited you," she said, sipping on her whiskey.

"Oh, don't worry about it, dear," he waved off. "I was already thinking about inviting you here anyways."

"Are you quite sure you're alright?" he asked again.

"Yes, I'm quite sure," Y/N said.

"Well in that case," he said, getting up and offering her his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Y/N smiled before taking his hand.

"You always know the best things to say, Al,"

It was now nine-thirty. During those four hours at the bar, Isabell and Alastor had drank, danced, talked, laughed, and smoked. Isabell was glad that Alastor showed up randomly out of the blue. She always felt better when Alastor was close by.

Alastor didn't tell Y/N this, but Mimzy had actually called her, saying "You better get your fuckin' ass over here. Something ain't right with your girl."

As soon as he hung up the phone, he headed straight to Mimzy's bar.

Right now, Alastor was currently walking Y/N home, the two of them talking about his mother's jambalaya recipe.

"Think your ma would be willin' to share her recipe?" Y/N asked.

"I don't think she'd have an issue with it," he answered. "You'd have to meet her first."

"Oh, I would love to meet your ma!" she said. "Do you think she'd like me?"

"She already adores you, darling,"

"I'm guessin' you've talked to your ma about me then?" Y/N giggled seeing Alastor's blushing face.

"What's not to talk about?" Alastor replied, making Y/N's face turn red.

They reached Y/N's house, the two of them walking up to her front porch. They were facing each other, Y/N was looking up at Alastor, while Alastor was looking down at Y/N, the two of them so close together.

"Thank you for helpin' me take my mind off today, Al," she said, looking up at him in a way that made Alastor's breath get caught in his throat.

"It really wasn't a problem, dear, you don't have to thank me," he said. "If you need help with anything, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Are we still set for jambalaya tomorrow night?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world,"

It was quiet, the two of them not saying a word.

Oh, how desperately the two of them wanted to wrap their arms around each other and kiss until they had to break apart for air.

The air between them was thick, and heavy with tension.

Alastor's eyes flickered to Y/N's lips and back to her eyes.

"Y/N..." he swallowed hard. "May I...is it alright if I kiss you?"

"Yes," Y/N whispered. "It's alright."

As gentle as he possibly could, he lifted up her chin with his fingers.

Alastor hesitated for a moment, the look on his face asked 'Are you sure this is alright?'

Y/N nodded slowly and Alastor closed the gap between them, placing his lips on hers.

His lips were soft and warm and tasted like cinnamon. Just like everything else he did, his touch was gentle. It made Y/N feel like her heart was about to burst out of chest. Testing out the fields, she very slowly and shyly moved her hands to the back of his neck.

Alastor tensed up for a moment, but relaxed, moving his hands and placing them on her hips. The way their lips moved perfectly against each other made Alastor's heart melt. The way he was feeling in that moment, he was addicted to it like a drug and wanted more of it.

Like a starved man, Alastor craved Y/N's touch.

After what seemed like an eternity, the two of them finally broke apart, breathing heavily.

"Oh, you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that, dear," Alastor breathed out, kissing her forehead.

"Oh, I think I do," Y/N said. "How about one more? To make up for lost time?"

"You read my mind," he laughed before placing his lips on hers once more.

THEY KISSED RAHHHHHHH

literally i am so happy

i wanna give alastor a big o'l kiss

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💋

@maksdust

@trippoverrt

@slytherin4ever

@lucifers-silhouette

@a-small-tyrant

@mo-0-o

@cutiebimbo

@mommymilkers0526

@mikariell95

@al-of-the-stars

@martinys-world

@bibliophile-yomna

@mysticwitchcraftco

[chiharuhashibira]

Hiiiiii so I was wondering if you can do a sanemi x fem abused reader plss?? And like the reader drops a plate and is having a panic attack and sanemi comforts us ???pls and thanks (if not sanemi kiojuro or obanai??)

Of course! We certainly can~ Your wish is my command UwU

I've been wanting to write about Shinazugawa-san! And no worries about the Kyojuro and Obanai imagine~ I'll definitely make one and tag you hihi ^^

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

𝐀 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐗 𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭

Content Warnings: Curse words, Wound and Blood, Abuse Flashbacks, Panic Attacks

Notes: Y/N = Your Name | E/C = Eye Color | H/C = Hair Color

As if by muscle memory, you flinched and covered your face as the plate crumbled into pieces on the floor. The streaking pain and screaming echoed inside your head, confusing you about what's real and what's not.

As you looked down, you saw tiny red droplets on the wooden floor. With a lump now forming on your throat, you crouched down, and tears started to escape your E/C eyes. The tremors came back as if you were back at the old estate where you had been living a year ago.

Your mind was filled with endless memories of how your own mother and your new stepfather had physically and verbally abused you.

"You're a fucking twat. You should've died with your father."

"Why don't we just sell you, Y/N? Perhaps we can get money from you getting laid! You're just a piece of shit to us anyways..."

A small sob escaped your lips as you looked around, your sight blurred with tears. Then suddenly, a warm, calloused hand gently caressed your back.

"Hey Y/N, calm down, please. You're safe with me."

All your demons calmed down inside of you as your E/C orbs met with his pale purple ones.

Oh yes, you have been living with the Wind Hashira for a year since you watched as your evil parents turned into a real-life demon in front of your eyes. He was your saviour; he still is, and that's the reason why your heart started beating fast for him.

You remembered the first night after the traumatic incident when Sanemi insisted you come with him to Kocho-dono's place. Who would've thought that this harsh-tongued man, full of scars from his old and present battles, would take you under his wing and show you a part of him that he has never shown to anyone after his nightmares came true?

Sanemi gently picked you up as your shivers continued to take over your body. Normally, you would protest this gesture, scared that he might tease you for being so frail, but that never came from him. He never mocked you.

"Y/N, breathe. Please breathe for me."

You followed him as he slowly put you on the zabuton, making sure that he was beside you to support you in case you fell down again. You watched him as your sight got clearer once again; he was opening a little box that he always hid under the table. His little first aid kit.

Sanemi is aware of your panic attacks; he even prepared things to help you when your past gets ahold of you once again, like this first aid kit that he kept in case you wound yourself up.

"Sanemi, I'm so sorry. I dropped a plate again."

He grunted, taking your hand and cleaning the wound from it that you got from accidentally squeezing the shard on your hand a while ago. No words came out of him for a few seconds. His eyes and hands are just focused on wrapping the wound on your hand with bandages.

Then after that, he looked up at you with no smile, but his eyes said it all. He was trying his best to comfort you. "Y/N, it's just a plate. I won't be mad even if you accidentally break every single one of them." He suddenly pulled you into his arms, embracing you with a warmth that no one would ever expect.

Flashbacks brought back your first kiss with Sanemi and how he tried to make you stop crying from being too scared that he wouldn't come back from his missions. You saw how he beheaded your demon mother and stepfather after they scratched his arms back then. You never want to see him hurt again, but he's a demon slayer. A Hashira, to begin with. His life won't really be about comfort and pleasures; he's here to slay demons, and he sacrificed his safety for that devotion.

You always wondered why he had agreed to take you under his wing after Kocho said that you were too scared, even to the three young girls in the Butterfly Mansion, but not to Sanemi. Despite his complaints, he still took you in and made sure that you were in safe hands.

Until one day, you just fell for him. His mean attitude, scarred exterior, and cold facade—those never stopped you from loving him more. And he fell for you too. He would never say things like, I love you, but you always felt special. Especially when he kissed you that night when you tried to stop him from leaving for his mission.

"Don't leave me Shinazugawa-san... Please... I—I... care for you so much."

Sanemi leaned in for a warm, passionate kiss, and you'll swear that his eyes glistened seconds before his intimate action.

"I'll come back for you. I won't die that easy. You know how badass I am, right?"

And that's it. That's how you and Sanemi's relationship changed in an instant.

"Hey, you're drowning in your thoughts again."

Sanemi pulled you out of the embrace, held you by your shoulders, and stared at you with concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sane—"

"Another sorry from your lips, and I won't kiss you again."

Your heart started beating fast after what he said. You shut your mouth and bit your lip, making a small smile appear on Sanemi's face.

"Good girl. E/C, those fucking demons cannot return to harm you. I won't let them. I'll slash their heads even before they take a step near you. I promise I'll protect you. I won't lose you too."

You gave him a small smile and nodded. Sanemi suddenly pulled you into his arms again and kissed through your H/C hair. "I won't lose you, Y/N. I won't let that happen." He caressed your back, hushing you from the remnants of your past.

The fear in you subsided. Sanemi's right. No one can hurt you again. Sanemi's the only person who can kill the demons inside your head. He's the only person who's always there to get you back on your feet if you fall. His loving comfort and company are all you need to heal from your nightmares. And perhaps you're also what he needs to make peace with his.

Your shaking subsided as your breathing stabilised. You raised your head and caught a glimpse of Sanemi's sweet smile. This part of him is for your eyes only, and you're happy with that.

"Your wound still hurts, doll?" You shook your head. Sanemi suddenly pulled you onto his lap and held your waist. "That's good to know. If you ever feel that again, always remember that I'm here, okay? I'll kill all those demons for you if that's what it takes."

You hummed, putting your hands over his shoulders. "Thank you, Sanemi. Thank you for being here."

"Of course. I love you."

That's the first time that you've heard those three words come from his mouth. His raspy voice and his loving smile made you blush. You'll say the world has stopped, but it already has since Sanemi started loving you back.

"I love you too. I'll do my best to take care of you too."

Sanemi bit his lip and pulled you closer. "Now kiss me." He said, and you happily obliged, pressing your lips gently onto his as he embraced you tighter.

"Y/N, you're mine."

"Always yours, Sanemi..."

You replied through the sloppy kisses, and you'll never know; perhaps it'll be more in a few blinks of an eye.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆!

I hope you enjoyed this short fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you so much for your request! And yes! I'll be writing a Kyojuro and Obanai fic for yah~ Totally appreciated this! ^^

Keep the requests going! Aside from X Reader, I also write Yaoi soooo~ BUT LET'S JUST FOCUS ON KNY BL IN CASE, FIRST!! XD

Feel free to comment and reblog this story~ Arigatou Gozaimasu!

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Hey, I love your Junkan art! Just was wondering, you recommended VanadisValentine 's work, which I agree with as I love all their Junkan stuff... but I was wondering, do you have any other Junkan recommendations? Would love to hear them if you do! (Ps. I haven't finished your blood bag work but what I have read of it so far I'm loving!)

Why thankyou for this question! First off glad you like all of the Junkan stuff so far, it's been a labor of love (and obsession) that took 9 months but seeing all the positive reactions has made it all worth it! As for recommendations, I am happy to oblige. I'll admit I haven't read every single Junkan Fic there is, I have made it a habit to go on a crazy binge of as much Junkan as I can, I go through every single page on AO3 and read anything tagged as soft (along with anything that looks like it was worth the risk.)

Hell when it comes to Junkan fics I literally have the Junko/Mikan tag for AO3 bookmarked and right at the top of my screen so I can click anytime, and I'm sure I still have plenty of fics left to read whether it's on this site or somewhere else hidden deep within google search. So if anyone wants to go in the comments/reblogs and give recommendations or even shill their own stuff go right ahead!~

Be sure to remember these, they'll be on the test later (this is foreshadowing) So do allow me to give you the long list of fics to read when you're feeling the vibe

I've already recommended VanadisValentine's works in previous posts, however for the sake of a complete list I'll still put em here.

The Marvelous Makeover of Mikan Tsumiki - VanadisValentine (Absolute Classic, also just really fun to say)

Everything You've Ever Dreamed - VanadisValentine (Quite possibly one of my favorite Fanfics just in general)

Turn Out the Lights - VanadisValentine (More focused on the characters separated along with their thoughts on the relationship but it's a great fic for when you're in the mood)

When Am I Gonna Lose You? - VanadisValentine (An 18+ Fic just as a warning, but if you're old enough and looking for something in that field this is an amazing piece, even with all my skill in the field of drawing funny pictures I don't think I could depict anything near as beautiful as the descriptions featured here. Does that sound pretentious? Yes! But I know what I am lol.) Year of Love and Despair - VanadisValentine (Last one from her on this list, also ongoing! If you want a variety of stories of these two ranging from fluffy to dramatic to sometimes even saucy then this fic is the place for you. Genuine highlight of my year and has helped me get through the tougher days very often. You can also look and see my really excessively long comments on most of the chapters!~)

Living in a Crazy Parallel World - Yurikah (Fair warning, this one is very long, isn't 100% Junkan Focused, and is also unfinished with it's last update being awhile ago. That said I think if you can make peace with that going into it you'll be in for a very well written treat!~)

Soft (But Only for Her) - Kayleen756894 (When I first got into Junkan I had only read a small handful of fics from AO3, this was one of them and I went through it in a single night. Extremely fun experience that covers a wide variety of ideas for Junkan. Fluffy, Tragic, it's the whole nine yards. There's gotta be at least one story in this collection that will appeal to someone if they like this ship)

Smile - Kayleen756894 (Truly amazing, one of the all time Junkan Fics out there. It can be a very stressful read but oh so very worth it in my opinion. And for those who want a fic closer to canon in terms of character depictions while still being on the softer side I think this will satisfy heavily)

Hurt, Hold, Heal - Kayleen756894 (Do you like Junko helping Mikan through a Panic Attack? Do you like Junko trying to be a better person? Do you like Mikan helping Junko just as much as Junko helps her? Oh look it's the fic for you. The ending is really sweet too)

Tomorrow is Lonely - Kayleen756894 (Also 18+, arguably even more than the previous one on the list. Check the tags before you read and if that sounds like something you're into go for it. Me personally I gotta be in a very specific headspace first but when I do read it I enjoy myself, it's real cute and has a lot of great little character moments)

Protectors in Red - Kayleen756894 (Extremely good! Also features Mukuro! So if that's a selling point then I'm sure it'll vibe)

Forgive Me, My Beloved - Gloomy_snake (Significantly out of my normal comfort zone and definitely not what one would expect compared to the other fics here, but an enjoyable read. And if you like Doomed Yuri, it's got plenty packed in.)

Drowning - aparticularbandit (Extremely inspiring piece of writing featuring Alter Ego Junko instead of Original Recipe Junko!)

A Night for Two - TheGreatWave74 (Cute fic with the girlies at the pool)

what's better than this, girls havin fun - oxidize (A Chatfic! It might not give the same lasting impact as other fics on the list, however this was the fic that introduced me to the very idea of Soft Junkan, so I will always cherish it, and make sure to re-read it every now and again for the sentimental value)

Burning Lungs - oxidize (Another unfinished fic, I remember that put me off from reading it for awhile. However when I finally did I got pretty invested, which left the cliffhanger on the last chapter all the more stinging. Hope the author is doin' well! Anyway, great fic, might go a bit overboard on the darker aspects of Mikan and Junko's backstories so be warned, but even with that in mind I enjoyed myself and find myself imagining the potential turns it could have taken. And watching Junko's feelings slow burn into existence was really pleasant, especially as her dynamic with Mikan continues)

School Life of Mutual Loving - MarySutcliff (A Compilation of various fics from various ships, 3 of which are Soft Junkan. I've only read the first two, but if you enjoy them I imagine the third will do something for you, the first chapter also, as far as my research can tell, is the first instance of Soft Junkan.) First Chapter Second Chapter Third Chapter

Queen of the Convenience Store - Orphan_Account (The one where Junko and Mikan do weed. I actually quit weed and went cold turkey about a week or two ago, but I do still enjoy seeing girls kissing while being high. even if i can't remember if they kiss in this oops)

A DR Oneshot from an Orphan_Account (It features a Hot Topic, my inner 2000s kid has to recc it)

The Threshold - character_studious (A Bit Dark, but a pleasant read!)

The Whirlwind Fashionista - Kaz3313 (Cute lil Non-Despair AU fic featuring a very cool mall! The ending also gets a chuckle out of me)

No Regrets - wait i made that one (I wasn't going to put this here initially however as a small spoiler, Day 50 of this project is directly based on this fic. I'm super mixed on how it turned out but hey maybe someone'll like it)

And that's it for now! I may or may not be forgetting a decent amount of fics even among the ones I've read before. And there's plenty I haven't even seen yet, and plenty more to be made overtime I imagine.

Your mileage may vary with a lot of these fics, but hopefully you'll find one that itches your brain good like they itch mine. And if not then I recommend just hitting the Junkan Tag running and see what you can find! Take a few risks and maybe you'll find something surprising.

Have a wonderful day and remember to stay hydrated!~

[bidisasterevankinard]

normal again?

G / 1041 words

Buck and Eddie talk in the gym about what happened at the cruise call (based on the photos)

text under cut

Buck sits in his Jeep looking at the station and for the first time in all his life he doesn’t want to enter this building, doesn't want to see his team, but most importantly doesn't want to, and even scared, to see Eddie. 

The cruise emergency, which almost cost them Athena and Bobby and marked itself as another near death experience for both, him and Eddie, was three days ago and Buck is still not ready to see the man. 

Not after what happened when they were almost trapped together with Eddie in the water, while saving people, and not after what he did to help the man with his panic attack.

Buck takes deep breaths to calm his mind and slow down his racing heart, remembering how Eddie looked at him after Buck’s lips left his. And this struck and almost hurt expression could be something Buck could forget about and live like nothing happened, but Eddie hasn’t talked with him since the moment they said goodbye to each other at this exact parking space.

No answers on his messages, except little one: I’m home. Not alone. Is that ok if we reschedule the movie night for tomorrow?

Then silence. 

Buck hates silence. Silence always was something around him because of his parents, and he always tries to create the sounds and conversations to never have a silence with people he loves. To never again feel like when he was a child, begging to be loved.

Eddie was the only one with whom even silence can be comfortable, but not this one.

Not when his best friend avoids him.

Loudly sighting, Buck takes his bag and gets out of the car. He was the one who kissed Eddie, who made Eddie avoid him, which means he should be the one to make it better.

And the twenty minutes before their shift is a good opportunity to clean the air between them before they will run to save people.

Good thing Eddie is already here too. Buck saw the truck the moment he parked ten minutes ago.

Entering the station he expected to see the man in the loft, and get himself five more minutes to get his thoughts together, but the way Eddie is working out, beating the shit out of the punching bag, makes him change the plan.

Buck approaches the man loudly, not wanting to scare him, so he knows the moment he appears near the bag is not a surprise for Eddie. Not with the way Eddie glances at him, with a tense jaw.

“H-hi,” Buck barely hears it himself, but Eddie nods at him, so he guess he heard it. Buck coughs and continues with normal volume, but not loud enough to make anyone look at them, “I-I was thinking we can talk about the … you know, what happened at the cruise.”

Eddie hits the bag again before speaking.

“Nothing to talk about, Buck.”

“Eddie, I kissed you and you stopped talking to me. And I-I know I messed up, but please let’s talk about it. I promise I'm sorry about my actions, and I don’t want to lose you because of it,” Buck needs Eddie to listen to him, to forgive him. 

“Wait, you think I was angry with you for the kiss?”

“I mean, what else could it be about?”

Buck raises his eyebrow, when Eddie bites his lip and nods to the benches.

He chooses to sit opposite Eddie, not wanting to trap the man with his presence.

“Buck, I’m not angry at you. I wasn’t talking to you because of my actions during the panic attack,” Eddie looks at him, but Buck sees in his pose he still doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Eddie, it's fine. You did nothing wrong.”

“Buck, I had a panic attack during work. And you had to save both of us because I was out.” 

“First, I’m your partner, it means making sure you’re safe. Second, yes, you had an attack because we were trapped together and you were triggered by water. It's normal. I-I was triggered too. I panicked too. Remembering the-the tsunami and how I almost drowned in the lift,” Buck still feels this uneasy feeling from hyperventilating which felt exactly like the tsunami. “But I just concentrated more on you, so that's why I had an attack at home. Alone. I'm happy I could at least help you. Even if I'm sorry about my actions to help you,” Buck can’t look at Eddie saying the last sentence. 

He still feels so guilty for kissing Eddie. But somehow he can feel more guilty. For wanting more. For wanting to kiss Eddie again and again.

“You... regret it?” 

Eddie's cautious and slightly sad voice makes Buck raise his head and meet Eddie's incomprehensible gaze. Buck doesn't know what that means, but he doesn't want to make Eddie think he hates the idea of kissing him. 

“I do not regret kissing you. I regret it was like that. When you were panicking and I never asked,” Buck explains and is almost ready to say something more revealing about his feelings but then remember the main thing why he should feel guilty for his actions. “And because you and Marisol are dating. You want it to work and I made it awkward.”

“I don’t feel bad about you kissing me,” Eddie slightly smiles, but then shakes his head. “But yeah, it made the situation with Marisol a little awkward. Let's forget about it? Nothing happened?”

Buck doesn’t want to forget but he would never say no to such a perfect present of making things normal again between them. Still, he needs to make Eddie promise him something.  

“Only if you promise to never hide any attacks or possible triggers ever again.”

“Only if you promise to let me help you with your attacks too.” 

“Deal,” Buck smiles and Eddie smiles back. “The cruise never happened.”

“Yeah. Nothing happened.”

Buck is almost sure they both do not believe it with the way they said it. At least he hopes so. Because for him this kiss meant more he wants to admit. But it’s not time for it.

Main thing is that he and Eddie are normal again. Right?

[h3arts4chris]

Panic at the party - C. Sturniolo (PNES!reader)

Summary: you have PNES, or **Psychogenic non-epileptic seizures.** They are attacks that look like epileptic seizures, but are not caused by abnormal electrical discharges. They are, instead, stress-related, psychological, or emotional. While hanging out with your boyfriend, Chris, at a party, you experience a seizure and reassures you when you regain consciousness.

Pairing: chris x reader

Genre: angst? It's not arguing its just frightening

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, abuse, PTSD. And this whole story is about PNES seizures so if that's troubling don't read :))

this was a request by an anonymous user (tysm). I had to do a lot of research about PNES so I hope I am well informed enough— I think the seizure I am writing about is called a dissociation seizure which is a form of photogenic seizure and also a non-epileptic seizure as well. Hopefully this is close to what you were hoping for. If not please message me and I'll make changes 🫶

If this makes anyone uncomfortable I'll take it down!!

---

Having seizures for most of your life is really challenging, especially having PNES, which developed from your past trauma. It wasn't the best, but it was manageable. Especially with Chris, who's been supportive throughout your entire life of having this, even more since you started dating a few months ago. Matt and Nick are little bit less educated since you aren't as close. They mostly aren't there when you get the seizures, but they are still aware that they happen and know not to question it or freak out.

At a hangout with the triplets, Larri, Tara, Jake, Johnnie, Sam, and Colby, you were sat on the couches of the triplets’ apartment. Everyone was a few drinks in, laughing and joking around, everyone having small seperate conversations, you talking with the triplets. You only had one non-alcoholic beer, weary of getting drunk, since you knew alcoholism ran in your family, especially your dad, who's trouble with drinking was the main reason for your trauma and PNES.

Tara, drunk as all ever, started talking with Johnnie and Sam about some movie she watched earlier that day about an abusive father and alcoholism. You paused your conversation with the triplets, looking over at Tara and hearing her conversation. Remembering small bits of your past caused greats amount of stress within you, therefore triggering your PNES disassociation seizures. You shook your head, turning back to the three brother in front of you. They all started at you, feeling bad you had to remind yourself, ruining your mood on such a good night.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to hangout with you outside for a minute?” Chris asked, placing his hand on your arm and rubbing it up and down in reassurance.

You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Getting up, you told him it was nothing to worry about. You grabbed a cup of water from the kitchen, ditching the virgin-beer. After chugging the glass of water and placing it in the sink, you walked back over to the couch, the stress becoming worse. While walking back to the couch, Nick and Matt gave each other a look, aware of how out-of-character you are acting right now but confused on what is going on.

“Sorry about that. What were we talking about?” You asked, rubbing your hands on your thighs and quietly drumming on them.

“We were just talking about Melanie and the Trilogy Tour,” Nick reminded you, taking a swing of his drink, a bitter expression present on his face.

“Right!” You laugh at yourself loudly for forgetting. “Oh my god I love her I cannot..” Your words trailed off, fingers spasming a little, and holding your breath. The triplets furrowed their eyebrows.

“Are you alright, baby?” Chris asked, waving his hand in front of your face before realizing what's happening.

Chris's pov

I see her eyes dilate, a sign that she's currently having a seizure. Seeing her having seizures breaks my heart because I know the reason is because of her past trauma, but I know that it's nothing I can control and all I can do is be here to support her.

I see her jaw clench, her eyes fluttering but not fully closing or blinking. The room goes quiet and everyone looks over at me, wondering what happened to her.

“She's having a seizure. She's fine,” I explain to them. Their confused faces quickly turn to worry, then getting up and running over to her. Overlapping worries surround me, asking if they should call 911 or get her anything. “No, it's fine guys, I promise. She's having a disassociation seizure, it's not an active medical emergency unless she stops breathing fully. She'll come back in a minute or so.” I said, taking small checks at my watch to see how long the seizure is and how long she's holding her breath for.

They all look relieved and sit back down, but a little closer than before, not continuing their past conversations curious to see what happens next, scared they might have to call emergency services.

Her eyes start to roll a little bit, which I understand is normal.

End of Chris's pov

You slowly gain conciseness again, unaware that you just had a seizure seconds ago. You breathe in loudly, having held it for a long period of time.

“I cannot wait to see her live. I've never been to any of her other concerts,” you finish your sentence. You look around the room, noticing everyone was staring at you and in different positions last time you looked over at them. “What?”

“Did you just have a seizure?” Tara asked, taking a small sip of her drink and leaning backwards, moving her body weight onto her palm.

You laugh, confused. “I mean probably but I don't remember.” You look back at Chris, who's expression looks less worried than the others.

“You did, but it wasn't anything bad. Just a mild disassociation,” Chris assures you. “I'm right here, baby if you need anything.”

You smile at him and tackle him in a hug, grateful of how supportive he is. Everyone resumes talking and drinking except for Chris, who wanted to stay sharp in case another seizure occurs.

He leans backwards onto the couch, done with socializing for the day. You sigh, grabbing his drink and placing it on the coffee table, wrapping your hands around him and biting your head into his chest.

“Thank you, Chris,” you mumble. Chris looks down at you and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in closer.

“What for? Just doing my job, love.”

“You don't have to.”

“No, but I want to. I love you and you having seizures isn't going to change how I feel about you.”

His confession only made you happier. You smile to yourself, slowly falling asleep next to him.

A/n: aren't I so preppy I finished a request after like 3 days 😋

[radiant-reid]

Do you remember the season 4 ep where spencer is convinced his dad murdered the little boy. Well I’ve had so many people convince me that his dad did SA cause there’s so much evidence in that episode. So maybe spencer finally telling the reader about it or the reader protecting him against his dad and when Rossi and Morgan try and convince him it’s all in his head. Obviously if you are uncomfortable writing this I completely understand 💗💗

TW: descriptive childhood SA, please do not read if this might trigger you <333

You first found out six months ago. You were late getting into bed, having been finishing some paperwork in the office, and you walked into the darkened room, put your pajamas on, and did your skincare routine in the bathroom before walking back into the bedroom.

Checking if Spencer was awake, you squeezed his leg. Quickly he freaked out, sitting upright and moving as far away from you as he possibly could.

You flicked the light on, in shock about what was happening as his breathing quickened and he tried to calm himself down from having a major panic attack.

He looks terrified, ghost white, more scared than you've ever seen him.

Your voice got him through it. "Spencer, hey, it's me. It's okay." You comforted him.

You didn't make a move to touch him until he held out his hand, asking for it. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back even tighter.

"It's just me." You assured him again. "No one can hurt you."

Then he started crying, bursting into tears. It was equally shocking, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him. He cried into your neck for what felt like an hour.

You cupped his cheek when he finally pulled back. "You're safe, Spencer. I promise you."

"I'm so sorry." He quickly apologized.

You shook your head, holding your index finger to your lips. "Spencer, you have nothing to be sorry about. Do you want to talk about it?"

"You should sleep, or you'll be tired tomorrow." He answered, moving to get out of bed.

"No, baby." You told him. "I'm not leaving you awake and this upset."

He hesitantly nodded. "Tea?"

You agreed, insisting on making it while he sat on the couch, all the lights in the living room turned on.

You handed him his mug when it was ready, not resting your hand on his thigh like you usually would. "What happened, baby?"

"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly. What he needed to say was the type of thing he couldn't ever unsay.

"Whatever is bothering you is my privilege to help you deal with." You reminded him.

He sighed deeply. "When I was little, like right after my mom's diagnosis, my parents started fighting a lot." He started. "My dad... he, uh, he'd come in my room late at night."

Your heart sunk in your chest in an instant, stomach churned. You knew where this was going, you saw it in your line of work, but you never thought Spencer had gone through something like that. Your first assumption- that it had to do with Tobias Hankel -is horribly wrong.

You wished it was right as he continued. "He used to put his hand on my leg. And it was so dark, Y/n." Spencer's voice cracked as tears started to trail down his cheek. You cried with him, unable to help it at your boyfriend's pain and the heartbreaking story. "He touched me, and he made me touch him." He sobbed more at the memory. "I hated it, and it was so dark. I couldn't see anything, Y/n."

"Spencer." You cooed, still crying your own tears and not sure what to say. "You are so brave." You reminded him. "You never deserved any of that. What he did to you, to his child, is disgusting, and he's an awful person because of it." He nods, hearing the words he's told himself coming out of your mouth. "You never told anyone?"

He shook his head. "Not until just now. I didn't- my mom was sick so it wasn't im-"

You cut him off, shaking your head. "It was important, Spencer. You're important." It's heartbreaking to think of Spencer as a little kid, weighing his own needs below everyone else's.

"Thank you." He said softly.

"You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here for you." You assured him. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, meekly. "Sure."

"Is there anything else that triggers you?" You asked. "Besides the dark."

He couldn't believe anyone could care so much, but you did. "Orange juice." He answered. "He'd let me have some afterward in bed."

You nodded. "Do you want a hug?" He melted forward into your arms, letting you hold him tightly. "I'm with you, Spencer. Always."

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seventeen

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of excessive drinking to numb painful emotions, PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mention of scars

Word count: 2.8k

Sleep eventually came that night, and I felt hellish when I woke up in the morning. "Hellish" was putting it lightly. My head was pounding, my eyes burned, and my entire body was sore, aching like when you have the flu. My chest was heavy, and it felt like it was taking a lot of energy to simply breathe. I don't think I'd ever felt so drained before.

It took a few moments of being awake for me to remember what had happened during the night. I blinked rapidly and looked at the other side of the bed. I remembered Daryl had to be out early for a day of hunting, so I wasn't too hurt when I saw it was empty. Still, I wished he had stayed just long enough for me to wake up.

This day was unusual for me in that I didn't have anything planned, at least not until the evening. There was going to be a community dinner. Everyone was supposed to make something, and we would eat out in the grass by the garden and drink late into the night. I likely wouldn't see Daryl until then, unless he got back early from hunting. I already couldn't wait for him to get back so I could wrap my arms around him and thank him for everything.

My day was going to consist of taking care of myself as best I could after last night and making food for the dinner, maybe seeing if anyone wanted help with theirs. I started by pulling myself out of bed. At first, I just slid out onto the floor. But I got myself out of bed, and that was a start. I didn't quite have the energy to stand, so I crawled over to my dresser and pulled out my clothes. I had decided a few days ago that today was finally going to be the day that I wore that dress Daryl got me weeks ago, back when we hardly knew each other. Not only was I excited to wear it, but I was excited for him to see me in it.

I sat on the floor for a while, letting my body reserve as much energy as it could so I could get myself down to the kitchen. Having not eaten since lunch the day before certainly wasn't helping my situation. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up, steadying myself on the dresser. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were still a bit red, and my lids were swollen, but they weren't too bad. My face felt puffy, and my hair was a mess of bedhead. I would've taken a shower first if my hunger wasn't demanding I make my way to the kitchen.

Daryl had left a container of food for me in the fridge. On the lid was a sticky note with my name on it. Judging by what he wrote, he would've had to leave it this morning before he went out on his hunt.

Vec

Hope you're feeling better

See you tonight

I put the note on the counter so I would remember to put it in my notebook with the other one. Eating helped me to feel a little better, but I still mostly felt like a pile of garbage. The note also put a little smile on my face. After I ate, I lugged myself into the shower in the hopes that that would help me feel less like garbage.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

As I washed myself off in the shower, stills from my nightmare flashed through my mind. It was like my brain was flipping through photos of the incident to taunt me. It made me feel an otherworldly level of gross, disgusting, like the only thing that could cleanse me of the feeling would be to skin myself. I could hardly stand to touch my own skin, to look at my own body, and I ended up curling up into a ball on the floor of the tub and sobbing some more. I wasn't sure how much more of this my poor eyeballs could take.

I don't know how long I spent like that, curled up in a pathetic little ball in the tub, but it was long enough to ride out a panic attack that felt like it lasted for days.

Once the panic attack had mostly subsided, I did my best to finish washing myself off before standing back up. I continued to take deep breaths as I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing my fresh towel and tossing it around me like a blanket. I couldn't even look at my hands for fear that seeing my scars would send me into another spiral.

One thing was for sure—I was going to be numbing these feelings with alcohol.

I had never blacked out before, as I was a lightweight and didn't even like getting to the point that I was dizzy. I didn't know what I was going to be like, or what to expect, but I didn't care. I couldn't handle these feelings anymore. They'd been creeping up on me more and more the last few weeks, and last night was the catalyst for my impending drunken state. I could only hope I wouldn't make a total fool of myself and ruin things with Daryl.

I sat on my bed, trying to focus on my breathing and calm my nervous system down. I had talked patients down from panic attacks before, but talking yourself down from one was different. After some time, I was breathing normally again, and my heart rate had returned to a steady beat. I dried myself off and got dressed, and the sight of me in the stunning dress Daryl picked for me made me smile.

I did a small twirl in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. The hem sat right around my ankles, and the slit came up to my mid-thigh on my right leg. It was nice and flowy around my lower body and hugged my waist and chest just right. It was like it was crafted just for me. I couldn't wait for Daryl to see.

I didn't need to start preparing food until later, so I thought I would go see if anyone needed help with preparing theirs or needed help with anything else. I grabbed my bag, put my boots on, and headed outside. It was a gorgeous day, nice and sunny and perfect for the evening's activities. People were bustling around, busy completing their daily tasks so they could relax when dinnertime came around. It was wonderful to see people getting excited about something and coming together so that we all could have a normal, non-apocalyptic experience.

I started off at Glenn and Maggie's. I hadn't spent time with Maggie in a while, and truly, I was less concerned about seeing if she needed help and more so just wanted to hang out. Maggie had become like a sister to me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed spending time with Daryl. But I also was in desperate need of some girl time.

"Hey. I just wanted to see if y'all needed help with anything for tonight. And I missed you," I said.

"Yeah, long time no see," she said. She stepped out onto the porch and gave me a hug, acknowledging my dress as she pulled away. “Whoa, where'd you pull that out from?" She opened the door and ushered me inside.

"Oh, it was a gift," I explained. She had an inquisitive look on her face.

"From...?" Maggie asked. I looked down at the floor and smiled. Her quick response let me know that I didn't need to explain. She knew. "No, really? That's so sweet!"

"Yeah. He said he thought of me when he saw it and thought I would like it. It's my first time wearing it." I looked back up at Maggie, whose jaw was nearly on the floor. “He tried to tell me that he just got lucky and didn't remember that my favorite color is blue, but I'm pretty sure he remembered."

"Oh he never forgot," she gushed, starting to walk away towards another room, "hold on, I have just the thing to add to your look." She returned a minute later with a curling iron in her hand. "Look what I found the other day. Can I do your hair?" She sounded so excited at the idea, I had a hard time saying no.

"Sure," I said, following her off to the bathroom, "why not? I have a lot of hair though, I hope you got time."

"Glenn can make the food for tonight. We got all the time we need."

We spent hours in that tiny bathroom, chatting and laughing and giggling like old friends. It felt like getting ready with a girlfriend to go out to the club on a weekend. It was times like this that made things seem normal, even if it was just for a few hours. We only took a break at one point for lunch, and Maggie explained to Glenn that he would be cooking for tonight's event. He was less than pleased.

"Are you gonna dress cute tonight?" I asked Maggie as she was moving on to the last chunks of my hair.

"I may have found something nice to wear," she said, a little smirk on her face and laughter in her voice.

"Oooh, you'll have to show me when we're done. We gotta make sure Rosita and Michonne do too. Ah I'm so excited!" I gushed.

After she finished the last piece of my hair, I stood up and looked in the bathroom mirror. It was somewhere between soft waves and tight ringlet curls, and despite being curled, it still reached down past my chest. Having my hair done was just the confidence boost I needed.

"Maggie, you killed it," I said. I twirled around and gave her another hug.

"You look great. Daryl's gonna have a hard time taking his eyes off you," she said. I caught myself turning red in the mirror, and her chuckling at me indicated that she had caught it too.

"Well, he can look as much as he wants," I gushed.

"Will he get to do more than just look?"

"Maggie!" I gave her shoulder a gentle shove, and I could feel the red on my face becoming brighter. She only laughed more.

"C'mon, let me show you what I picked out," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bathroom to go upstairs.

Once I left Maggie's, I went over to see Rosita and then Michonne. I wasn't able to find Rosita, but I did tell Michonne about what Maggie and I planned, and it didn't take much convincing to get her to join us. She showed me a cute little cream-colored dress that she had but hadn't worn before, and I gushed over how pretty she would look in it. It felt good to be able to hype up my fellow women.

I took a little stroll around the community before going home to make food for the eventful evening to come. After I finished making the food, I hand-washed some pots and pans. I had squatted down on the floor to put something away in a lower cabinet when I heard the front door open. I figured it had to be Daryl. The butterflies in my stomach awakened. I was both excited and extremely nervous for him to see me all dolled up.

"Hey, there's my bonafide badass," I said as I popped my head up over the island in the kitchen. His chocolate hair hung in front of his face, obstructing his eyes from my view, but I could feel that they were on me. He had taken off his bow and his jacket, both of which had been tossed on the floor, and he had started walking in my direction. “How did the hunt go?"

"Real well. Probably the best in—wow." He cut off his sentence as I got up and walked around the other side of the island. My heart was pounding. "Ya wearin' it."

"Yeah. I, uh, finally found an occasion to wear it," I said, taking a few steps closer to him and giving him a couple of little twirls. “What do you think?"

He didn't say anything at first, just eyed me up and down, which I didn't mind. Like I told Maggie, he could look as much as he wanted. He stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, giving me the tightest and most gentle hug I could imagine. I wrapped my arms around his neck in return. He was a little sweaty and dirty from being out in the sun all day, but I didn't care. My knees felt weak, and I practically melted into him as he pulled me closer.

"Ya look real nice." His sweet Southern accent right in my ear sent shivers down my spine. "Dress fits perfect."

"Thank you. The hair is courtesy of Maggie. It took hours."

"She did great," Daryl said. We spent another few moments like that before Daryl released me from the hug. But he still kept me close, running his hands up and down from my shoulders to my elbows. His work-worn hands caressing my bare skin felt immaculate. “How ya feelin' after last night?" I kept my gaze on his chest. I was finding it difficult to look him in the eye when I thought about what happened the night before. I was still feeling ashamed.

"Alright. I had some...moments throughout the day, but I'm ok." I could feel him looking down at me. He only had three, maybe four inches on me at most, but he still had to peer down to look at me, especially when we were this close. I twiddled my thumbs together anxiously. "I'm sorry about what happened. I feel bad for keeping you up, and I feel like such a baby for how I acted."

"Don't apologize. Nothin' ya did wrong. Just glad you're ok," Daryl said. His voice was always so silky soft when he talked to me, and it made me melt even more. "Wanted to stay with ya 'til ya got up, but I had to leave early. Sorry 'bout that." I leaned my head forward and rested my forehead on his chest. Being this close to him, wrapped up in his arms like this...it was my own personal heaven.

"That's ok, it's not your fault. Thank you for everything you did for me. I—" I cut myself off before using the word I considered. I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes locking immediately. Those stunning blue irises made me weak. "I appreciate you. A lot."

"Anytime sunshine," he reassured, and I gave him a big grin in return.

"I should get the food outside. Wanna come with me?"

"Ya go on. I'll be out soon," he said. I skipped over into the kitchen and grabbed the slow cooker, and Daryl went upstairs. I propped the appliance up on my leg and let myself outside.

Someone had taken one of the infirmary tables and set it up in the grass, and plenty of people had already brought their dishes out and were gathering together. There was also a separate table set up for alcohol. I went over and sat the slow cooker down on the infirmary table, and I could see Rosita bouncing over towards me.

"Dude, you look hot," she exclaimed, giving me a hug as she approached me, "your hair looks amazing. How long did that take?"

"Thank you. Maggie did it. It took literal hours," I said, "and so do you. You look so cute. I wish we had a way to take pictures."

"Thanks. She caught me earlier and told me you all planned to dress up, told me I should join in."

"Oh good. I tried to find you earlier to tell you, but I couldn't," I explained. I tapped my foot on the ground and crossed my arms over my chest. "Rosita, I need you to do me a huge favor. I'm looking to get drunk tonight. Like really drunk. If you think I might start saying something about Daryl, something that he or anyone else shouldn't hear, I need you to punch me in the stomach as hard as you can." Her expression changed to a confused one. "I mean that. Don't hold back. Knock some sense into me."

"Vector, I'm not gonna punch you. But I will stop you from saying something you'd regret. How much do you plan on drinking?"

"You don't wanna know."

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

Divider found on Google via searching for stock images

[esleep]

i am having the most ridiculously, cartoonishly bad day that i think i have ever had and i am going to be pitiful about it for a minute okay. if you read this i hope it makes your day seem much better by comparison, in fact i am pretty confident it will do that for you. it's probably a little funny also if you are not me.

testimonials: "my jaw fully dropped and stayed open the entire time, jesus christ" -shannon in reply to the 3+ minute rambling video i sent her about all of this.

here is my sordid tale, for those brave of heart and strong of stomach.

i woke up at 4 AM while having both a migraine and an anxiety attack (being around my family for extended periods will do that). i was unable to go back to sleep for multiple hours. my morning work alarm went off less than an hour after i finally drifted back off.

at work i spent 10 hours trying to catch up on a bunch of bullshit, because it was my first day back after a week and a half of hastily-arranged sick leave so i could be with my dying grandfather.

midway through my morning, i remember that last night i found a weird open sore on the back of my cat's neck, which i need to call a vet to get checked out IMMEDIATELY after work since i am supposed to be bringing a kitten home on Sunday and I do not want to bring him into a house full of ringworm or some other weird skin infection.

i start looking around online. looks like the only place anywhere nearby that will accept walk-ins AND is open after i get off work at 6 is the veterinary urgent care across town. cool. i call. they tell me their base exam cost is $110 and any treatments go on top of that. i wince and grimly make an appointment for 7 this evening.

at this point it is around noon and my stomach hurts. it's been hurting this whole time but i had kinda let it fade into the background because i thought it was just part of the anxiety. however it has been getting slowly stronger until it finally dawns on me that i am having period cramps. ten days early. cool and nice. i also do still have the migraine, thank you for asking.

i finish my work day at 6, then remember something crucial: rent. i go to bring my rent check physically to the landlord's office since i got back into town too late to mail it, and my landlord is so old school i can only pay by physical check or money order (online portal? never heard of her). the office is already closed, and they don't have a night drop available right now because their actual office was firebombed six months ago (lmao) and it's still being rebuilt so their temporary "office" is just a trailer. i panic-call my landlord, who says i can leave the check if i can manage to stuff it far enough into the door that no one can see it. i try my best. this takes a million years. the entire time i am worrying that i will be late to the vet.

we finally make it to the appointment. things seem to be going well at first - we are alone in the waiting room while i fill out my paperwork, ivy is mostly chill (shockingly). when we are brought to a room she even lets me feed her a churu through her carrier door, a decision i soon came to deeply regret. we'll get to that.

this is the first vet i've ever been to where they fully take your animal away from the "exam room" where you are supposed to wait and into a back area to examine and treat them, presumably because their protocol is built around much more severe illnesses and traumas. predictably, ivy did not like this very much. i nervously told the tech who took her away that if they had too much trouble with her, they were welcome to come and get me, because she usually behaves more for me than for anyone else. i can hear her yowling from the room where i have been told to wait, while i am staring down a sign that says "FOR YOUR SAFETY - PLEASE STAY HERE WHILE WE EXAMINE YOUR PET". it may be a liability thing for them, idk, but it is truly not my safety i am concerned about at this moment. it's not my cat's safety, either. those yowls are war cries. the beast seeks blood.

the vet comes in. he seems like a nice man. he tells me gently that he's having some trouble getting a good look at the sore because ivy is so upset (you don't say). i tell him i am happy to help them corral her, but also, i have a photo of it on my phone if he would like to look at that. he is delighted. i show him the blurry photo i took last night. he is less delighted. essentially, he tells me, this is most likely either an allergy flare-up, an infection/abscess, or possibly (least likely) ringworm. we agree on a three-pronged approach: one antibiotic shot and one steroid shot tonight, plus a tube of ointment to come home with me that i will apply once or twice a day ("whatever you can manage" he told me while nervously glancing at the door that separates us from my pet demon in the treatment room). this ointment contains more steroid and antibiotic, plus an anti-fungal, and it should help kick whatever is going on even if we can't positively identify it. he says if it gets worse or doesn't heal, or if she develops more of them, bring her back.

next to come in is a slightly wild-eyed vet tech who tells me that ivy has been attacking them all pretty badly (shocking) so they had to net her (okay that's a new one). during this process, she shit liquid diarrhea all over herself and them. after they gave her the necessary injections and tossed her from the net back into the carrier, "the poop went in with her" were the tech's exact words. she handed me a cloth and a spray bottle of disinfectant and basically told me i could stay in here as long as i needed to get the carrier cleaned up, but she couldn't stay in the room to help me because my cat is such a menace to society. that is fine. i would rather face her wrath on my own anyway.

they were not exaggerating when they told me she was absolutely covered in shit. that churu really lubricated the pipes or something because it is a frankly concerning amount of feces. her bed and blanket inside the carrier are beyond redemption. i don't really care too much about that - i've owned cats for two decades, i am wise enough not to keep anything i'm emotionally attached to inside the carrier. i am also not very squeamish about cleaning up a little poop. but what really gets to me this time is the smell. it is absolutely unholy. this is not regular cat shit smell, this is like satan's afterbirth. beyond just what's in the carrier, there is shit matted into ivy's fur all throughout her back half and a little toward the front too. she looks pitiful. but she walks out of the carrier so calmly when i open the door, almost like she's trying to preserve what dignity she can. i don't blame her. she's had a bad night.

i do what i can with the carrier to make it transportable, then go out to pay the staggering $365 that i owe for this ongoing nightmare. it is now nearly 9 pm. we've been here for two hours. i am exhausted like someone who has been to war. the extremely young boy they have running the front desk takes forever to figure out how to apply my Scratchpay (which i had to hastily apply for in the exam room), and meanwhile the smell that is coming off both me and my cat is like nothing i have ever experienced. it's freshly shocking to me every time i inhale. it's the kind of smell you never really acclimate to. i am pretty sure i have actually died and gone to hell without noticing the trip.

i bring the cat home (windows down, by necessity, praying it doesn't start raining again like it has been all day). i take her directly to the bathtub - do not pass go, do not collect $200. then i have the joy and privilege of giving her a bath in the tub. with dish soap. because that is all i have available and this is a bit too much of an emergency for me to doordash some cat shampoo. considering my cat's temperament, this goes about as well as you can imagine. by the end, the cat and i are pretty much equally wet, but at least she is mostly clean. i consider showering myself off while fully clothed, but decide against it for the sake of my bra, which is somehow the only thing still dry and untouched.

i am still a little bit in shock at how absolutely horrendous and LONG every aspect of this day has been. i need a xanax, $10,000 USD, a massage, and a handle of whiskey. i will be receiving none of that. goodnight.

[the-night-writer1]

Mk doesn't like the new guy

The red uncle au timeline b. Mk isnt fond of the new guy hanging around the shop or his baby brother. No one seems to share his concerns.

It was a normal day in the shop as Mk returned from a delivery to be met by the new guy. He didn't like how suspicious this guy was. The guy was serving noodles with a smile and not struggling while balancing like 30 bowls! That many noodles make anyone struggle even if they were buff. He could barely do ten!

At least Pigsy made the guy wear a full shirt instead of a crop top. Didn't mean Mk had to like him! He was weird to Mk , usually stepping up for a baby you help made meant child support! Not this current situation. Where this guy was very slowly stealing his brother!

Shanyao was all hormonal because of the baby and clearly couldn't see he could do better! MK couldn't see how the new guy could woo his brother and everyone else so easily. He frowned as he sat at bar next to Tang. Shan was upstairs still and the new guy was already ahead of him.

"Tang why do you guys think he's so great?" Mk mumbled as tang was slurping up some noodles. He just didn't get it.

" well he paid for my noodles " Tang said jokingly for a moment before noticing his son's expression, "why don't you like Red boy ?"

" he just comes out of nowhere and suddenly hes all in Shanny's business! Yet you guys are all cool with him?" Mk grumbled failing his arms about. It made no sense to him! Red boy was a stranger and for all they knew he could be lying about being the baby daddy. Way to have faith in your twin brother Mk.

"Mk kiddo , are you jealous Shanny isnt spending more time with you since Red boy showed up?" Tang asked as he put a hand on Mk's back, " because I'm sure if you ask you-"

" What! No no no I'm totally not jealous " Mk said crossing his arms and turning away. Totally not upset Red boy was at their last movie night and brought a new movie Mk thought was awful. Not upset as well the fact Shanyao loved the new movie as well or that he was laying on Red boy too. Totally ruined their usually action movie night with that rom com. Ever think Shanyao doesn't always want to watch all the monkey cop movies?

"Sounds like ya jealous kiddo" Pigsy said as he walked over to the two before yelling to Red boy," Hey Red break time "

"Okay sir I'm going check on Shanyao " Red boy said as he put the empty bowls in the dishwasher. Then rushing up to the lift to Mk's dismay.

"I am not jealous I'm concerned he's got you guys wrapped around his finger" Mk huffed as he crossed his arms tighter. He didn't trust the guy and everyone else was just fine with Red boy.

" Kid , he's a good guy if ya just give him a chance. Go upstairs and watch how happy he makes Shanyao " Pigsy said as he gestured upstairs. He was hoping Mk notice how much happier Shanyao been with Red boy around. Guy gained his respect for talking Shanyao down from a panic attack Mk missed a few weeks ago.

----

" Hey how you doing up here? Need anything?" Red boy asked as he walked over to Shan who laying on the sofa. He felt Shan's forehead and frowned," you're a little warm honey "

" I'm just a bit tired and I've been nibbling on crackers. " Shan said as Red boy kissed his forehead, " I'm really alright "

"I'm still getting a compress for you. Do you want some noodles or something else? Any cravings that may help you eat more" Red boy asked as he grabbed a clean wash cloth and wet it in the sink. He made sure to ring it out before he put it on Shan's forehead.

"Red boy I'm okay" Shanyao said with a soft giggle as Red boy fluffed his pillow for him ," I ate a big breakfast remember?"

"I hardly call two bowls of Wonton noodles a large breakfast gorgeous " Red boy retorted as he sat in front of the sofa and kissed Shan's hand," may I remind you I am no judge and I will get you anything you want no fuss."

" I know you keep reminding me. I'm just not that hungry right now " Shanyao said with a soft warmness that Mk noticed it been lacking for a while. He'd been silently watching this whole exchange. He still didn't trust Red boy but he could see Dadsy had a point.