#maybe because you made it exhausting and sometimes next to impossible

[poppinelle]

One of my favorite things about corporate America is that a CEO can schedule a company dinner meeting with less than 24 hours notice and assume that the employees have childcare lined up and aren’t fucking over the person’s spouse.

[lovelybee666]

Autor's note: I can't believe I'm going to do this...the worst thing of all...it was fun to write..

YANDERE CATNAP

(part 2)

TW: Stalking, harassment and kidnapping

• You don't know how long but for a while now you've been feeling watched, the members of the Smiling Critters said that maybe you were nervous since you were the new member.

• Dogday sometimes consoled you by saying that no one is watching you... he was actually wrong, if you were being watched and it was Catnap, the sleepy and night cat.

• He always scared you, there was something in his face that just disturbed you and you didn't feel comfortable around him, you always noticed that he was watching you when you were with the other members.

• You told the others but they didn't believe you, someone like Catnap would never do that....

• Currently you were in your hut arranging food that Picky had given you, that feeling of being stalked again...You could feel how they were watching your every movement, your breathing, EVERYTHING.

• You closed curtains, locked the door, turned off any electronic device but nothing, you still felt that feeling of being watched.

• Now you were walking towards your bed in fear thinking that maybe he was inside your house spying on you, he could be in the closet or the bathroom...maybe under the bed or behind a door, You searched the entire house but nothing, there was no sign of anyone.

• Maybe the others were simply right, you were nervous and you were just hallucinating things, you got ready to go to bed and with all your courage, you turned off the light.

• You tried to sleep but you couldn't, that feeling felt more and more powerful, it was impossible to ignore that hole in your stomach and lump in your throat just like your hands were shaking and your mind was begging to turn on the light but you ignored that thought that only asked you to turn on a miserable light.

• you felt something in your bed...YOU ARE ALONE.

• You opened your eyes and quickly turned on the light, when you saw Catnap's figure you tried to scream but you felt a hand cover your mouth that only wanted to ask for help.

• Catnap had completely black eyes and a very strange smile, you never saw him this way, he had his hand on your mouth preventing you from screaming while he grabbed your hands with the other.

• you were scared VERY AFRAID, you were always right but no one believed you because you were someone new, no one believed you NO ONE BELIEVED YOU NO ONE BELIEVED YOU NO ONE BELIEVED YOU.

• Catnap was staring at you or so you assumed since you couldn't see his pupils, he started emitting a red gas from his mouth, you didn't know what that was, you had never seen it in your life.

• you tried to escape from the night cat's grip but he was stronger than you and you even felt that if he squeezed a little harder he could break your hands.

• You started to feel exhausted as well as your eyes, you didn't want this to happen...you didn't want to...no....

• ....

• The next day Bobby knocked on your door but no one answered, he called Dogday and Hoppy for help, The three members were trying to see if you were home, Hoppy used all his strength and managed to break your door a little, he promised to buy you a new one when they found you.

• While they searched the surroundings, the only thing they found was your necklace and a small blood stain next to it, they never knew what happened to you.

• If only they knew that you were still in your house, just very...VERY below it.

Look, I suck at yandere stuff so it's probably really poorly made.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 8 all chapters

-Your birthday falls on a beautiful spring day, and of course, you have to work. When a new customer growls into the parking lot on a shiny black motorcycle everyone crowds behind the counter to see who it could be.

It takes so little to entertain all of you, sometimes.

The boys titter excitedly about the sweet bike and torque and ccs, whatever that means.   

When the rider takes off his helmet there’s a fall of fabulous dark hair, and something inside you utterly purrs at the sight.

It’s Mr. Wick.

Maybe you should have known. His padded motorcycle jacket makes his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and as he crosses the parking lot on long legs you hear Cassie sigh behind you.

Same, girl, same.

Cassie had made you a little birthday crown to wear out of a to go cup, a la Princess Peach. You forget about the silly adornment clipped to your head, until Mr. Wick approaches the counter to make his order.

“One coffee…your Highness?” He lifts one of those dark brows with a small smirk, and fuck if it doesn't make you blush. 

“It's my birthday,” you sheepishly tell him. His expression actually softens.

“Happy Birthday, then.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Not fair you have to work today.”

You shrug. “No rest for the wicked.”

This makes him smile a little wider, and you feel that’s a good present for today.

“Hopefully you have something fun planned for later?” 

Is he fishing, or just making conversation? You can never tell with this man. 

“Not really,” you admit with a shrug.

Your parents are divorced and remarried, living far away from you in their new lives, with their new families. You know they’ll call you later, when they remember you. You’ll have an awkward little conversation that will only serve to grind up your heart into smaller pieces, rather than lift your spirits like its meant to.

Your friends are busy too. One, with her new baby who never has time for you anymore, and you totally understand (and endorse) her priorities, even if it still hurts. The other’s work schedule is exactly the opposite of yours, and you never manage to hang out anymore.

Maybe you’ll go to the thrift store after you get off work, or treat yourself to an ice cream. Nothing too extravagant. You’re saving every penny you can for your upcoming trip.

“Well, maybe something will come up.”

It’s a nice thought.

You make him his usual coffee order, and don’t think much about it the rest of the day. This warm spring day has everyone out and about, stir crazy after the thaw, and you were running full speed from open to the end of your shift. For some incongruous reason, people were extra rude too, and as the clock strikes 2 you are at the end of your rope, your smile more closely resembling a baring of teeth.

Your whole body hurts, and you think you are too exhausted to do anything fun for yourself, until you go to your car in the lot behind the brick building to find Mr. Wick—and his motorcycle—parked next to your old Rav4. He looks utterly scrumptious, if you’re being honest, those legs going on forever as he leans against the seat of his bike. His hair is waving down around his face as he browses something on his phone to pass the time.

Good on you, for only pausing for a moment to ogle him.  

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You look between him and the bike with your lip between your teeth, wondering what he’s doing, your treacherous heart fluttering in your chest.

“I thought…it might be fun to go for a ride? If you want.”

You cannot suppress a wide smile, touched to the marrow that he thought of you on your special day. “That does sound like fun,” you admit, and not just because the thought of sitting behind him on a bike makes you a little weak in the knees. The sunshine that day truly feels like a gift from the gods after such a harsh winter. “But…”

He tilts his head inquisitively.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

He shakes his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, and your fingers physically ache to brush it away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he assures you, and damn if that isn’t enough to convince you.

“Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a bike before?”

His smile is nothing less than gentle, and he could have pushed you over with a feather.

“All you have to do is hold on to me,” he assures you, and you think you lose your mind a little at that.

There is slightly more to it, he instructs you as you put on a helmet and he helps you clamber on behind him. He tells you to lean slightly with him into the turns, but not too much.  The bike grumbles like a fire-breathing beast beneath you as he starts it up.

The feeling of his slim hips and taut backside between your thighs crosses some wires in your brain.

He takes you to the winding backroads of the countryside and up the mountain. You feel like you’re flying, snaking through the curves on this powerful machine, with a man you find you trust implicitly at the controls.

You laugh out loud more than once.   

At a straightaway he asks through the helmet mic, “Want to see what she can do?”

“Sure,” you answer, even though you can’t imagine what more this beautiful bike could offer.

“Lean into me, and hold on.” You obey, looping arms around his trim waist, plastered to his backside as he hunkers down for aerodynamics. You were already going fast, but when he shifts a gear you take off like a shot.

A sane person would have screamed, but all you can do is laugh.

This is the purest joy you’ve felt in longer than you can remember.

John pulls over at a scenic overlook, parking the bike so you can have a little break. You sit together on a picnic table, looking over the valley below. A stream snakes through it like a silver ribbon, shimmering in the sunlight. You sigh and lean back on your arms, lifting your face to the sun.

This has turned out to be a perfect day. John smiles a little as he looks over at you, but says nothing, just lets you soak it in.

“Thank you for this,” you finally say. “I was having such a shitty day.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sit up and rub at your neck. You have an unrelenting ache in the muscle over your left shoulder blade. It never really goes away, but its definitely worse after a long day on your feet bending over coffee.

John looks worried, bless him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I just…have this thing. I think there’s a demon living in my shoulder.”  

After a pensive moment he lifts his hands in offering, moving very slowly as though he might spook you. His hands are…beautiful. Large, long fingered, calloused too. You wonder what he does, when he’s not sitting in the coffee shop or binding books. The thought of them on your body gives you a forbidden little thrill.

You do not even consider the missing digit, until he looks at his left hand and frowns, closing it to hide it at his side. “Sorry. I still forget…”

But you take his hand in yours, inspecting it closely for the first time. He allows it, though there is something vulnerable in his eyes as you do. The healed skin almost looks jagged, like it wasn’t severed with a clean cut or a surgical blade. You feel the urge to press your lips to it, as though you could kiss it better, but you just rub your thumb over the fine dark hairs there.

“What happened?”

“Someone…” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sound. “I had an accident.”

You sense there’s much more to the story, but you don’t press him yet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, I get the phantom aches. Mostly it’s fine though.”

You nod and angle your back to him, placing his hand on your shoulder as you shoot him a pointed look, granting him permission to touch you. His sigh is almost imperceptible, but you sit up a little straighter as he squeezes your shoulder lightly. You get the slightest taste of the strength in those hands, yet you know he could rip you to pieces if he chose to.

He slays you in a different way, knowing exactly how to use them on your sore muscles, and you can’t help but moan as he squeezes the kinks out of your shoulders. For a second he freezes at the sound, before continuing to work his magic.

“God…that feels so good.” You’ve been in pain for so long that it’s damn near better than sex.

Maybe it’s been too long for that too, though.

“You are a mess.” You know him well enough now to know he’s frowning as he says this. He kills a knot with the well-placed blade of his thumb. You feel it release and you jump a little. Though it doesn’t really hurt you, you’re not sure why there is suddenly moisture in your eyes.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of you like this, you suppose.

“Job hazard,” you sigh.

“Do you ever do yoga?”

You laugh a little at that for some reason. “I used to practice, when I was younger.” It kind of fell by the wayside. You’re always so tired when you get home.  

“Well, stretching is good for you, as you age. Take it from an old man. It helps.”

“You’re not old,” you immediately protest.

“Nice to know I still have some curb appeal.” His words are laden with sarcasm, and yet you can tell he is pleased.

He finishes the massage with a lighter touch, to stimulate blood flow, that gives you delicious chills all over. Your shoulders are your kryptonite, and you are putty in his hands. You look back at him from beneath your lashes, curious what exactly it is the two of you are doing here. Does he like you, or is he just being impossibly nice?

He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but you find you can’t read him, not one bit.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

It is almost dinner time. “Okay.”

You’re a little sad as you ride back down the mountain towards town. But he pulls up to the local diner, and you have sinfully greasy cheeseburgers and shakes. Despite your protests he pays, because: “No one should have to pay for their birthday dinner.”

You know he’s fucking loaded, so you let him have his way.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” you admit, munching on a fry. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

You know he’s told you to call him John before, but fuck if you haven’t noticed how his eyes darken just a little when you call him Mr. Wick, or even just Sir at the coffeeshop. You feel like you stumbled onto something you don’t entirely understand, but it fills you with a forbidden warmth all the same.

He gives you a hooded look from across the table, and you fancy he knows that you know what you’re doing.

“My pleasure, y/n.”

He doesn’t insist that you call him John again.

[cyber-night]

Fyodor needs help sometimes even if he doesn't want it

Content Warnings: Self-neglect, degradation, humiliation, (Neither of which are particularly "sexy" it's more just Fyodor being put in his place through his own stupidity), this... isn't healthy for Anyone...

no smut today, sorry :( there Is a part 2 to this with smut. So if you want to see the pathetic, problematic, and malnourished, twink getting railed come back in a bit :3

You sigh as you look at Fyodors pill bottle. You'd recently put a cap on it that had a timer telling when it had last been opened. You suspected that he hadn't been taking his meds. The timer showed that it had been over two days since Fyodor had taken his medication, and even then, he only took it because you brought it to him.

You head up to his computer room where you find him hunched over his keyboard, typing away at lines of code. "Hey Fedya?" He hums as if he hears you but isn't listening. You continue anyway. "You haven't taken your meds in a few days... how are you feeling?"

"Fine," He says without looking up from typing. "When's the last time you got up to eat or use the bathroom?" You ask worriedly. Fyodor sighs. "I do not need you babying me. I can care for myself, you know." He says flatly. "You haven't taken your meds in two days... I worry about you. When's is the last time you slept in a bed and not at your desk?" He stops typing and pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Not all of us get to sit around and do nothing you know some of us have actual work to do." This makes you pause irritation boiling under your skin. "Excuse me? I do plenty thank you very much. I'm the only one who does anything around here." You snap he has never been this expressly disrespectful to you. "You do nothing but annoy me and take me away from my work! I don't need your help! I realize you are too dumb to understand how important what I'm doing is, but you can at least have the decency to let me do it. As for what you do around here, you do nothing but take up space and money!" He snaps angrily you pause your eyes wide, all the times you've made sure he had water and tea as he worked, made sure he was eating, brought him food if he hadn't eaten yet, brought him his meds, all of that to him was simply an interruption? An irritation? Not to mention you took care of most of the chores, though he helped with a few such as the trash ...Fine then if that's how he saw it. "Very well, then I'll stop." You sat icily your eyes narrowed. "Since you will be fine without me helping, I'll leave you be." He seems pleased at that. "Good." Is all he says before he turns back to his monitors. You don't hesitate to turn and leave.

True to your words the next four? Maybe five days? You don't do anything for him. You knew when you two started dating, he needed something akin to a caretaker as he was oblivious to his own health, unable to feel hunger, thirst, or even exhaustion the way most do. It stemmed from his autism and you were willing to help him out of love for him. You never thought you'd have that affection thrown back at you in such a volatile way. You haven't seen him for a few days making no effort to seek him out.

You are sitting in the living room reading a book quietly when he stumbles in. He looks terrible. He hasn't showered in about two weeks at this point, hasn't had his meds in a week, and God knows when the last time he ate was. You only barely glance at him before returning to your book. You watch him lean against the counter as he makes his way to where his meds are stored. Once he get his hands on them, he looks at the caps timer, showing him its been almost a week since he's taken them. His hands shake as he struggles to open the pill bottle, the childproof cap, making it impossible for him when he's this weak. You watch him from over the edge of your book. He is genuinely struggling, but you can also tell he's putting on a bit of a show to garter pity from you to make you feel bad for leaving him to fend for himself. You don't give him any instead of going back to actually reading flipping the page. After quite a bit of time, he finally stumbles over to you and holds the bottle out to you. "Open this." He says gruffly. "You don't need my help. You should be fine." You say not looking up at him though you can see his hand trembling in your peripheral. Your words make him pause.

He tries to open the bottle again with no luck he stands there swaying slightly, his pride not letting him admit he was wrong or that he needs help. He tries to pull your book down, but he is too weak to succeed. You watch him sway again before he crumples at your feet, the pills bottle rolling away from him. You still don't look up from your book as you flip the page. If he wants anything from you, he needs to put his pride aside. He sits there, trembling at your feet for a few minutes before weakly whispering, "I'm sorry..." It's makes you laugh a little inside. "Pardon? I didn't hear what you said. Would you like to repeat that?" You ask without looking up from your book. "I'm sorry..." You nod. "Hmm, that's a start. What are you sorry for?" His eyes are unfocoused, and he's barely keeping himself upright. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"And?"

"...And I was wrong."

"About?"

"I was wrong, I do need you..." You nod again as you flip the page. "Yes, you do, don't you." He waits for a moment before he continues "...Are you going to help me now?" You laugh finally closing your book. "And why would I do that? You've done the bare minimum." Fyodors eyes widen, "please..." He whispers weakly. "Please, what?" You ask with a smirk as you watch him sway on his knees. "Convince me." He takes a shakey breath. I'm looking like he might cry. "Please help me... I feel like I'm going to pass out, and I can't... I can't take care of myself right now." You tilt his head back so you can observe him better. "It's almost a pity I have to put you back together... I kind of like you like this. Weak and pathetic, not that you aren't weak and pathetic normally, but... it's just you look pretty when your half way from deaths doorstep." He whines a hint of fear in his eyes. Sure, he could kill you with a touch, but the idea that he is weak and pathetic normally makes him uncomfortable. "I really should make you work for my help... but I'm feeling... Generous. So instead, I'll only make you beg. Sit back on your knees and put your hands up to your chest like a dog. I want to see you beg like one. After all, I have to care for you like a pet."

Fyodor shudders but does it his body barely stable for very long as he holds his hands up in an imitation of paws he looks at you, embarrassment evident in his face. "Good enough, I guess." You sigh idly, he whimeprs, letting his body relax so he doesn't fall further to the floor he rests his forehead on your knee. "Please~" He whispers meakly. Finally, you move him onto the couch and lay him down with a sigh.

You go get his meds, water, and soup since you don't trust him to keep solid food down right now. You come back to him asleep, and you almost feel bad about having to wake him up, but you know you need to. He needs to eat and drink. You carefully nudge him awake and set about nursing your brilliant moron of a boyfriend back to health. You wake him up not as gently as you usually would. You shove the pills into his mouth, then yank his head back and force him to drink, double tapping his cheek once he swallows. "T-thank you... my love..." You help him eat the soup since his hands tremble. "You wouldn't be in this mess if you simply listened to me, you know." You sigh as you pet his hair the soup bowl finally empty "If you had just been a good boyfriend and accepted my care you would fine, but no you have to be a selfish stubborn brat." He looks up at you with glassy eyes. "I'm sorry... I'll try and be better..."

You shake your head and sigh, carrying him to lay down in bed. A shower will have to wait till tomorrow. "Sleep, you can make it up to me tomorrow, Fedya." He nods and nuzzles into you, clinging to you out of anxiety that you'll abandon him again. You kiss his forehead as he drifts off.

[orcasoul]

Oh Baby!

Summery: Pedro Pascal and reader are in a relationship. Pedro's career is sky rocketing and reader also has a demanding job. Throw in an unexpected pregnancy and well...... shit!

Warnings: Swearing, Pedro being and not being an asshole (you'll see). Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Gripping the edges of the bathroom sink, you take slow, deep breaths to steady your breathing, while your mind is going into overdrive. Your chest feels tight and your legs are like jelly. Slowly you raise your head to stare at you reflection in the mirror. You don't even feel like yourself right now, almost like you're having an out of body experience. Reality suddenly feels foreign to you, like you're trapped in a surreal dream. But this is no dream. It's real, oh it's definitely real. The two red lines on the four pregnancy tests sitting on the under sink cabinet can attest to that! "Shit," you mutter quietly, still looking at yourself in disbelief. "This can't be happening." It wasn't supposed to happen . You'd been on the pill for two years and always used extra protection if you had antibiotics. You were always so careful, but careful obviously wasn't careful enough. How would you even begin to tell Pedro that you're carrying his baby? How would he react? Your mind keeps replaying one specific interview of his you'd seen. "I don't even have kids. And I'm not gonna!" His words exactly.

He'd mentioned to you once that his hectic work schedule doesn't allow time for kids, and honestly it wasn't high on your priority list either. Your job as an editor is very demanding and sometimes trickles into your home life. Both you and Pedro had grown accustom the stresses and scarifies you've both had to make over the past couple of years when it comes to your jobs, but you'd both made it work and were happy and comfortable together. But adding a baby into the mix just seemed impossible. You try to remember your last period but you'd been so busy with work lately that you hadn't even noticed you'd missed..... shit, two! Two periods. It was only the past few days of constant queasiness and dizzy spells that led you to suspect what you'd hoped wouldn't be true. But here you are, the "truth" staring right back at you. "Oh my god," you whimpered while rubbing your hands over your face, "Fuck, what now?!"

You try your best to keep it together but you can't contain the rush of different emotions that are encompassing you at this moment and the tears begin to fall. It's exhausting trying to process everything you're feeling; fear and uncertainty but also a gravitation and protectiveness you've never felt before. This baby was certainly not planned and you couldn't deny that you wished the tests were negative, but knowing that it's definitely there has awakened an instinct in you that has always been present but dormant, just waiting to be unleashed. How is it possible to want and not want it at the same time? Will Pedro want it? Will he be mad? Pedro had been away for two weeks filming for a new advert and had a photo shoot straight after so he'd be away for another two weeks, at least. You both video called each other every day. You'd always looked forward to it but the thought of today's impending call left your stomach in knots! There was no way you could tell him something so life changing over the phone. You'd just have to keep it yourself until he gets home and try your best to act normal when talking to him.

It turns out pretending nothing had changed wasn't that difficult for the next week. Maybe it was because of the distance and the fact that you could make up an excuse to end the call when your anxiety began to creep in. But in one week's time he'd be home and you know it'll be harder to act nonchalant around him, especially now that your lower belly has started to swell slightly. Slight enough that you could blame it on junk food if he noticed, but it's only going to get bigger. After a long day at work, you finally get to relax for the evening, settling down to watch one of your favourite shows. Leaning back into the settee you found yourself gently smoothing your palm over the curve of your abdomen, wondering just how much would change in the coming months and how Pedro would take the news. You still struggled to get your head around it yourself but now that you've had time to think, you know there's no way you'd get rid of it, no matter what happened. Well, I have one more week to figure out how I'm going to tell him, you ruminate..... or so you thought.

"Y/N I'm home." Pedro called out as the front door slammed shut. You shot up off the settee faster than a rocket as Pedro walked into the living room with a wide grin. You stood frozen to the spot as he dropped his bags and rushed over to you, picking you up in a tight hug. With the fervour of a man touch starved he kissed you as if he hadn't kissed you in years, deep and sultry. You instantly dissolve into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Wow," you whispered breathlessly as you pull away to look into his eyes. "Missed me that much, huh?" You teasingly ask, trying to sound as though your heart isn't beating a million miles an hour. "What do you think?" he relied with a smirk, setting you back down. "How are you home so soon?" You hope your question did come across the wrong way. Of course you're thrilled that he's home. You always loved it when he returned home earlier than expected, and it happened so rarely that usually you'd be on cloud nine, but this one time you wished you had that week. A week where you could prepare for every eventuality. "We were ahead of schedule for once. I thought I'd surprise you instead of calling ahead." Your silent stare made Pedro chuckle, his soft eyes creasing at the corners. "That surprised, are you?"

You suddenly realise how off your reaction must seem to him and quickly collect yourself before he can think any more of it. "I just wasn't expecting you so soon. Great surprise though!" you smile genuinely as you tip toe to kiss the end of his nose. "I really missed you. How was it?" "Oh you know, early mornings, late nights, hours of hair and make up, retake after retake, blah blah blah....," Pedro trailed off while waving his hand in the air dismissively. "How have you been sweetheart?" He asked while stroking down the curve of your back. I've missed you like hell." "Yeah I've.... I've been fine. Works been fine." Your voice ever so slightly, nervously shook at his question, making you cringe inwardly but luckily he didn't seem to notice your change in tone. "Well, you go unpack and I'll make us something to eat," you offered, trying to keep your composure, even though you felt like a deer caught in headlights. As Pedro heads to the bedroom to unpack you hurry into the kitchen and pour a glass of water to quell your nerves. Not quite the same effect as alcohol, you huff inwardly.

You get to work preparing Chilean Avocado sandwiches, as it's one of Pedro's favourite foods. But after only a few seconds you are hit with a strong bought of nausea from the smell and lunge towards the sink, making it there just in time. After violently retching up what not only felt like the contents of your stomach, but also every organ in your body into the sink you are startled by a warm and gentle hand rubbing your back. "You okay, baby?" "Oh fuck!" You turn swiftly, wiping your mouth with a tea towel. "Uh... yeah... must be a virus or something. It's going around. My sister's kids had it last week." You hated lying to Pedro. Well, it was half a lie; Your nieces and nephew did have a bug last week but you know that this is definitely not a virus. Pedro looked at you with a creased brow, clearly concerned. "Why don't you go lie down? I'll take care of this," he suggested, looking over at the ingredients on the kitchen counter. When he realised you were making his one of his favourite's he turned to you with an adoring smile.

"Aww, you were making my favourite sandwich, thank you darling." "Anything for you, baby," you lovingly reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I think I will go and lie down for a bit." you concede. "A bit" actually lasted until the next morning. Your body felt heavy and exhausted as you dragged yourself out of bed for work. The next three days were hard going. The morning sickness began each morning from the moment you woke up, getting stronger every day. Pedro became more and more worried asking, no begging you to call in sick for work. But each day you'd insisted you didn't feel that bad. The truth was you felt like shit! The unabating nausea and fatigue left you feeling on edge, knowing you can't keep this a secret for much longer. He's going to figure it out any day now or at least suspect, your anxious mind keeps telling you. By the evening of the third day Pedro couldn't take the worry anymore. "You've been ill for three days Y/N," he observed, uneasily, while sitting beside you on the bed, his hand caressing your cheek. "If you're no better in the morning you have to see the doctor." His face betrayed the apprehension he's feeling. "Ped, no I'm fine-" "You're not fine and you're starting to worry me." He cut you off in an urgent but not angry tone. "I'll drag you there if I have to." "Okay, Okay. I'll go," you groggily reply with a small smile. Relieved, Pedro leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Get some sleep baby. I'll check on you in a bit."

And with that he walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar. You closed you eyes and sighed. You knew this time would come. The time when you'd have to spill the beans, as they say. You weren't entirely ready for it but you have no choice now. You know he'll make you go to the doctor tomorrow and you can't use work as an excuse to worm your way out of it since it's one of your days off. You have to tell him tomorrow. The next hour was spent pondering what you would say to him and all the different ways he might react. Eventually, exhausted both physically and mentally you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

******

"You're what?!" Pedro's voice reached a pitch you didn't realise he was capable of. His earthy brown eyes were as wide as saucers and his jaw hung slack. Your eyes dart to your feet as you feel your cheeks burn and your fingers begin to tap the sides of your hips in anticipation. "I'm.... pregnant," you repeated, voice shaking. "I don't know what happened. The pill has never failed in the past-" "We'll it fucking has now, hasn't it!" He shot you a choleric look. "Or maybe you just weren't careful." "Excuse me?!" You snapped back with furrowed brows. "Don't you dare blame this on me. I never missed one pill and we always used extra protection when needed. You know that!" "I don't know anything right now!" Pedro shouted through his hands which were now rubbing his face in exasperation. "Well I didn't make this baby all by myself so don't put this all on me!" Hot tears begin to cascade down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. "I just.... FUCK!" Pedro cried out, booting one of the kitchen stools, making you jump.

"We can't do this. I can't do this." "Well it's too late now," you huff at him with your arms folded across your chest. "Not if we don't want it to be," he stated flatly. Your eyes widened and your heart clenched at his cold demeanour, causing you to instinctively place your hands across the small swell of your belly in protection. "I'm not getting rid of it Ped. I.... I can't," you exclaimed. "Y/N," Pedro sighed, shaking his head "This would change our lives completely. Neither one of us has the time for such a huge commitment and-" "I don't care," you cut him off sharply, fixing him with daggers. "I'm not getting rid of it. If it means I have to work part time then it's something I'm prepared to do." Pedro threw his head back to look at the ceiling, seemingly annoyed at your obstinate determination. You continue, "Weather we like it or not this is happening and we need -" "No it's not." He quickly stated, with finality. You stare at him dumbfounded. "What?!" "I'm not doing this. If you want to keep it you'll have to do it alone. I never wanted this and you know it." He returned your own words to you with clear contempt.

You open your mouth to say something, anything but words have now failed you. Your brain is unable to form a coherent sentence as the realisation of his words hit you like a punch to your gut. You feel numb as your heart shatters piercing your soul. He can't mean it! He's just upset, you try to rationalise internally, still to shocked to speak. Pedro turned away from you, grabbed his car keys off the kitchen island and stormed to the front door. "Make sure you're gone before I get back," he demanded in an emotionless tone. Seeing him walk away from you, immediately loosened your frozen tongue. "Baby wait!" you sobbed after him as he slammed the door shut without a backward glance. You instantly drop to your knees on the cold kitchen tiles, embracing yourself as your grief becomes unbearable. Your head begins to spin as you try to suck in deep breaths. It's no use. The despair is now consuming you, seeping into every crevice of your being, gripping you and tearing you apart. "Y/N?" You continue to sob. "Y/N?!" The familiar voice sounds muffled through your tormented cries and you can feel phantom hands gently shaking your shoulders. "Y/N?! Baby wake up, wake up. Look at me!"

You gasp as your eyes snap open. You are met with concerned caramel eyes, glowing in the dim lamp light. Pedro was leaning over your body, holding onto both of your shoulders. "It's okay. It was just a bad dream," Pedro soothed you while cupping your cheek. The feel of his warm skin against yours brought a sense of calm to your confused and distressed state, helping you to catch your breath. He sat up, slowly pulling you up with him. "Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me. What the hell happened?" he asked nervously as he wiped away a mixture of cold sweat and tears that had soaked your face. "I...," your voice gave out as you realised it was nothing more than a nightmare and the man you love is right here beside you. "I... can't remember." Your voice didn't sound convincing at all, and Pedro's raised eyebrow told you that he wasn't convinced either. "You're pretty shaken up sweetheart. You can tell me." "It's just a blur now." You choke out, wrapping an arm around his broad, tanned chest and leaning into his shoulder. "Okay," Pedro replied, still sounding unsure. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you snuggle into his neck as you both lay back down. You wrap your arm and legs around him like a baby koala, desperate for some comfort and reassurance that he indeed hasn't left you. "I've got you," he whispered, while holding you firmly and stroking your hair. "Let's go back to sleep."

*****

The sunlight spills in as the curtains lazily blow due to the partially open window. Your eyelids are heavy from the lack of sleep. Groaning you turn to the bedside table to check the time. 11:30am. "Shit," you mumble while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You never sleep this late. You throw the quilt off and sit up slowly, the nausea returning as you do. Downstairs you can hear Pedro in the kitchen. "Okay, let's get this over with," you sigh, knowing you can no longer avoid the inevitable. As you approach the kitchen you stop and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed. Pedro's back is to you and you take the opportunity to just watch him, appreciate him and contemplate just how much you love him. A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you just absorb the mere presence of him. But as soon as the smile appears it evaporates as the nausea increases momentarily, pulling you back to the here and now, reminding you of what you must do. In a few minutes everything will drastically change for the both of you.

Images from last night's dream flash before you, making your heart race slightly and your palms sweaty. A part of you knows deep down that Pedro would never treat you so cruelly and walk out on you, but it would be a lie to say the dream didn't shake you and make you feel somewhat apprehensive at this moment. "Hey darling," Pedro smiles as he turns to see you idling in the doorway. "How long have you been standing there?" "Not long," you shrug with a wan smile. He set his coffee mug on the counter and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. In return you run your hands up his arms, gently holding onto his triceps. "How are you feeling?" He asks with a creased brow. "Okay." An obvious lie. "Why didn't you wake me?" "Figured you needed some extra time since you didn't sleep much last night. I felt you toss and turn all night long." Worry and unease laced his voice. A few moments of silence pass before you clear your throat. "Baby, can we talk?" "About what?" he enquires with trepidation. "Just come with me," you exhale softly as you lead him by his hand into the living room to sit next to you on the settee.

With a deep breath you turn to face him, and feel your heartbeat quicken while twitching your fingers in your lap. A nervous habit of your that Pedro knows all to well. He places his soft palm over your fumbling hands to calm you. "You're making me nervous Y/N. Please just tell me what's wrong," he all but begs you. "I uh... I don't know how else to say this so I'll just say it..... I'm pregnant." Shock adorns Pedro's features as his hand slips off of yours. The cold feeling of emptiness where his warm hand had just been resting caused your breath to catch in your chest. You couldn't hold his gaze any longer and dropped your head, anxiety threatening to consume you. You wait with a sense of dread for his possibly angry or fearful reaction but are caught off guard when he delicately takes both of your hands in his, causing you to look up at him in anticipation. "Are you sure?" He whispers, his voice shaking slightly. "Yes," you nod. "I took four tests...all positive. I'm so sorry...." You began to ramble, "I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know how it did. I know you never wanted-" "Hey, hey shhhh.... take a breath." Pedro cooed as he pulled you into his chest, cupping the back of your head with one hand and smoothing up and down your back with the other.

You begin to weep desperately as the past weeks' tension and worry finally break through the mental and emotional dam you had built within. "I'm sorry," you wail into his shoulder, chest shuddering as you try to regain some semblance of self control. Pedro cradles both of your cheeks in his hands and pulls you upright to look into your weary eyes. "Why are you apologising? Last time I checked it takes two to make a baby. You are no more responsible for this than I am, so please stop saying you're sorry." Your breaths become less laboured as his thumbs smooth small circles over your cheeks, the action soothing and reassuring. "It's just.... I know you never wanted kids..." You begin in a slightly exhausted tone. "I just don't know what else to say except.... I'm sorry." Pedro takes a a deep breath. "It's true I've never seen myself becoming a dad, and I never would have purposely had a baby," you look down and nod in understanding, feeling guilty for putting him in this situation. "But..." He tilt's your chin up to make eye contact with you again. "If it was going to happen, I'd only want it to happen with you."

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise. "Really?" You ask astonished. "Really." he assures you. "Is this why you've been acting so strange and been so sick lately?" You gulp and nod once. "How long have you known?" "A couple of weeks," you confess quietly. "And you kept it to yourself all this time?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You should have told me straight away. You never should have had to go through this alone," Pedro said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I was scared" You admit somewhat timidly. "I was scared of what this would mean for us. I was scared because I want to keep it." Pedro smiled softly. "You know I'll support you no matter what, right?" "I know." A relieved smile made it way onto your face. "Was what happened last night anything to do with this?" Pedro questioned while reaching for your hand. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter now." You try to shrug the question off. "Tell me. I wanna know." "You.... you got angry," you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "You blamed me, told me I'd have to do this alone and... you left."

Pedro's shoulders slumped as you finished speaking. "You didn't think I'd actually do something like that, did you?" The hurt in his voice was clear and it broke your heart. "No! no of course not," you cut in quickly. It wasn't a lie. You know what kind of man Pedro is and that he'd never hurt you like that. "I guess it was just all the stress and worry coming out in that dream. I know you and I know you love me. I know you'd never do anything like that." His face visibly relaxed hearing you confirm what he already knew to be true. "I do love you, baby. I know this is a huge change but we'll make it work. I promise." "I just don't want you to ever resent me or feel trapped-" "Shhhh..." he gently interrupted. "I could never feel that way, okay?" His voice left no room for any doubt. "I love you so much," you exclaimed, eyes beginning to fill again, but this time from relief and happiness. "I love you too, darling," Pedro whispered as he pressed his lips to yours. After several seconds he pulls away to look down at your belly, noticing the tiny bump through your pyjama top for the first time. "Can I?" He asks almost shyly. "You don't ever need to ask," you laugh with adoration. You take his hand and gently place it over the swell of your belly, watching as his eyes widen in amazement. "Wow!" He breathes out in awe. You both look at each other, eyes conveying the love you have for one another and now for this little one. The stress that had plagued you for the past two weeks began to dissipate like fog being burned away by the sun. The uncertainty of such a life altering future hung in the air but you know that together you can both handle whatever that future brings.

Oh Mama A Continuation

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

Ghostface | Pt.2

Pairing: Stu!Ghostface x female!reader

Prompt/summary: Time went by slow after that night the masked stranger broke into your house. When he appears for a quick meetup in your shed, your hopes were high that he would stick around this time, maybe even reveal who he was. Instead, you learn that he was the man who killed your old schoolmate and you’re left with a mental dilemma until he decides to come back. But what will you do when he finally takes the mask off and tells you the truth? 

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings/contents: Fluff, mild language, kissing 

Notes: Okay, so I was torn for, like, awhile on what direction to take this chapter and how the reader would find out that the masked stranger is actually Stu, so I hope that you guys like the rout I took for this. Enjoy soft Stu. I want to also say thank you to everybody for being so patient while I was writing this. I know how much I hate having to wait for part 2 to come out, but the creativity just wasn't coming to me for such a long time.

Now that it's finally here, I hope it's as good as the first one, or it's worth the wait. As the author I feel biased in saying I don't love it because I had to write it, pause and then proofread to see where I was at and make sure I wasn't repeating myself, and then write it again, and then repeat the process, and then proofread all of it at once in the end.

You can find part 1 here! 

<>~<>~<>

It had been a week and a half now since the mysterious stranger had broken into your house, and despite not hearing a single word from him again, you couldn’t get it off of your mind. That night, you laid in your bed for hours before finally being able to fall asleep. Not a single word had been uttered about that night, when your friend asked why you stopped replying, you lied and said you had fallen asleep. If she knew the truth, she would have called you insane, made you do a rape test to get his DNA and convinced you to go to the cops. 

Why hadn’t you done that? Even you weren’t sure. The next day, you were on the edge of your seat. You’d even called into work because you just couldn’t think. 

Your parents were back home, asleep in their room while you sat in your plush chair in your own beside the lamp reading your book; a gripping horror novel that you couldn’t put down. It was nearly 2 o’clock in the morning and your eyes were exhausted, but you had tomorrow off and you wanted to spend your time reading, you would simply sleep in tomorrow. It would be worth it. 

It only happened in times like these, but for once, the man was off of your mind. However, when you were at work, it seemed impossible to not think back to that night; you had sex before, but it had been nothing like that. Not knowing who he was had almost excited you even more— he had been right, and that had made you shiver at the thought. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think that you would ever had enjoyed what happened that night. Not until you experienced it. 

Your phone started to silently buzz against your leg. You didn’t think too much of it; sometimes your friend would call you at night to see if you were awake. Nonchalantly, you glanced down, expecting to see her goofy contact photo. Instead, you were greeted with the familiar words ‘no caller ID’ for the second time. You were quick to put your bookmark into the page you were on, completely forgetting the words that you’d just read, and set the book down as you reached for your phone. 

Your hands nearly shook as you brought your phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” Your voice was quiet, not wanting your parents to hear you in case they were awake. 

“Hello, (y/n).” The familiar voice spoke over the phone, and even though it had been so long since you had spoken to him, his voice sounded like someone you’d spoken to every day. You couldn’t help the tingle of excitement in your stomach. 

“I hadn’t thought that I would hear from you again.” You said, peeking at your window that was locked and covered by your thin curtains. 

“Why not?” You were quiet. “I’ve been here and there this whole time.” He said as if it was nothing. “You look cute when you’re zoned out. Thinking about my cock inside of you?” The man teased, a devious laugh following his words as if he could see the way your face flushed. 

“Do I get to know who you are yet?” You asked, glancing around your room as if he was going to appear out of nowhere like he had last time. “Or are you going to leave me in suspense forever?” 

“I haven’t decided.” 

“Where are you?” He was quiet. “Are you here?” 

“It might be hard to fuck you with your parents in the next room; you’re not what I would call quiet in bed.” The man teased. “If you want it so bad, come outside.” You were quiet for a moment before you spoke. 

“Outside…?” Ever since you were little you had been afraid of the dark. Sleeping in the comfort of your own room with the door shut and the lights off was one thing, but going outside late at night when nobody was around was something that you had never done or wanted to do. It was dangerous. You were afraid of the worst that could happen. 

As if the worst hadn’t already happened when he broke into your house and fucked you. 

“What? Afraid of the dark?” He asked, but the tone of his voice made you think that he already knew the answer. “Come outside. Meet me behind the shed. I’ll be waiting.” And with that, he hung up, leaving you in the silence of your bedroom. 

You set your phone and book aside, standing and quietly creeping towards your bedroom door. You opened it as quiet as you could and crept out, hearing the snores coming from your parents room. Their door was shut, but you still winced at every creak in the stairs. 

Knowing that turning on the light to the backyard would wake your parents up, you kept it off and unlocked the door, sliding it shut behind you and holding onto the handle like a lifeline. The backyard was pitch black and the shed was on the other end around the pool— that thankfully had lights so that you wouldn’t accidentally fall into it. The last thing you needed was to try and explain to your parents why you were fully dressed and in the pool at two in the morning. 

Slowly, you worked your way towards the old tool shed and crept around the side. Behind the shed was well kept, but nothing was ever back there. There was no point in leaving things behind the shed. You looked around, finding yourself alone in the darkness. You wondered if the man had tricked you, but you jumped when a twig snapped beneath someones feet. You spun quickly, looking up at the man. 

He stood tall, the mask placed perfectly obscuring his face and the costume he wore last time hung loose around his ankles. You didn’t say a word as the man stepped closer to you, but this time you didn’t back away from him either. You waited and watched, craning your neck to look up at him when he stopped in front of you. 

“You know, if my parents woke up…” You hesitated, unsure of exactly what would happen if someone happened to glance out of their window and see you standing in your backyard in the middle of the night, conversing with a masked, cloaked stranger that nobody— even you— knew. You reached up, rubbing your bare arms quietly. A gloved hand reached forward and tilted your chin up. “It would be a lot easier to explain a boy in my room than… this.” 

“You’re saying you want me in your room again.” The man spoke as if he was making a question, but he chuckled. “I told you, I don’t know yet.” With a sigh, you grasped his hand from your chin and brought him with you this time, walking around the shed and opening the rickety door. You were quick to walk inside and drag him in with you, reaching up for the dim overhead light as you shut the door. 

There was more room than usual in the old shed after your father had gotten rid of the old lawnmower and was on the hunt for a new one, though there were still an abundance of old tools lined against the back wall that the man could use to maim you. 

You made sure that the door was completely shut before you looked back and turned your full attention to the man that was standing there staring at you. 

“Why are you back?” You asked, getting nothing in response from the man before you. “What if someone saw you sneaking around?” He chuckled this time. 

“Worried?” He asked tauntingly. “I came back for you.” The words shouldn’t have made your heart flutter the way that it did, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that settled uneasily in your gut when you were around the man. Everything was wrong with him, but maybe that was what excited you. “I haven’t been caught yet.” You weren’t exactly sure what that meant; did he mean that he hadn’t been caught here, or was he out doing this in multiple places? What was his motive? 

You hesitated for a second before you spoke again. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” You asked quietly, met only with the blank stare of the mask as you eyed him. “Killed that girl.” He was quiet. “Were you going to kill me, too?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I didn’t feel like it.” 

“Why did you feel like killing her?” 

“Because I wanted to.” The cold words left the man and left a dry lump to form in your throat. What if he had just felt like killing you? What if he changed his mind and felt like that soon? You were once again in a compromising position with the man that just admitted to killing someone that you used to sit next to in math class when you were in high school. “You ask a lot of questions.” A blindfold was pulled from the mans pocket once again and was dangled lightly in front of you. 

“Do you want to kill me?” 

“No.” 

“What if you change your mind?” This time, he was quiet. With a sigh, you leaned closer to the man and closed your eyes. You weren’t sure what was going to happen this time, but you couldn’t help it— you just couldn’t say no to the man. Not with the unknown of what could happen. This time he left your wrists unbound, dangling by your side almost awkwardly. The man in front of you moved closer, his gloved hand reaching up for your chin again. 

You let him guide you, eyed closed and blocked from whatever he was doing. You were shocked when a pair of warm, chapped lips pressed to yours, but you were quick to give in to the man. His tongue teased your bottom lip as you shifted on your feet, unsure of whether or not you were allowed to reach for the man with your free hands. 

As if he read your mind, the stranger reached down and grasped your hands in his. He brought them to his shoulders and let them rest there while you let his tongue push into your mouth; he was an exceptional kisser, his warm body moving to press close to yours while your fingers grasped at the halloween costume he wore. You dared to explore, touching the warm base of his neck. When he didn’t stop you, you let your fingers wander further, grazing his jawline before you felt his hair. 

You didn’t care about who he was as he led you back a few steps. Your back pressed to the shed door and his hand slipped behind your head to hold it in his large hand. You gave into his every movement, letting the man do whatever he pleased while you moved your hand to feel his face; clean-shaven, soft skin rubbed beneath your fingers as he kissed you. 

The man reached down with his hand and grasped at your thigh, lifting it easily and wrapping it around his waist, making it easier for him to slide closer to you. His body fully pressed against your own, the obvious hardness in his pants pressed to you. Your hand moved up in his hair, running through it while you kissed the man back almost desperately. You ignored every tingle in your body, every instinct, and let him pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist while he pushed you back against the wall again. 

He moved away from your lips, nudging your chin up and pressing his mouth to your neck. You leaned your head back, giving a soft sigh as he gently sucked on your skin. You were hoping that he wouldn’t leave a hickey for one simple reason: how the hell would you explain that to your friend tomorrow? 

His teeth nipped teasingly at your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to elicit a low sound from the back of your throat. 

Lips pressed back to yours, pulling you in for another heated kiss— but there was something different about this one. Even before when he was kissing you like he was desperate for it, this time it felt stronger. The urge to feel your lips against his had surpassed even him as he squeezed your hips. The bruises were fading from the last time that he had come here to see you, but his grip still gave you a tinge of pain as he held you. 

He smelled fresh— intoxicating. His kiss was too good to deny. His body against yours made you tingle. The shame couldn’t even sit in your chest when his tongue pressed to your mouth again. Your fingers grazed his cheek, tracing along his jawline before they rested on his neck. 

Suddenly, the man pulled back, moving far enough away that you couldn’t feel his breath on your lips anymore— but you could hear his soft breathing. You gave a soft sound when his hand groped at your bare chest over the shirt that you were. Both of you were silent— you were afraid that speaking would break the tension that was held over the two of you right now. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as he gave your nipple a light pinch. 

A quiet exhale left the man as he reached up to gently touch your face. His fingers traced your cheekbone down to your jaw before he pulled back, grabbing your hips and setting you down on the ground. You gulped lightly, listening intently for the man to make sure that he didn’t disappear on you again. Blindly reaching out, your fingers came into contact with the man sooner than you thought they would. 

“I thought you snuck out on me again.” The man before you only gave a soft hum to acknowledge that he had heard what you said. Then, his fingers edged behind yours and fiddled with the blindfold that you wore. You wanted desperately to know who the man was, but you weren’t surprised when you opened your eyes after he took the blindfold off and met the white Ghostface mask. 

Trying to hide your disappointment wasn’t easy as the man pushed the blindfold into his pocket this time. The man reached over to flick the light off and reach for the handle. For a moment, he hesitated; you held your breath, unsure if what to hope for in the moment, but you were quickly let down when he opened the door and stepped outside of the shed. 

You were left in dead silence as the man left. For a moment, you waited; part of you was hoping that the man would be outside of the shed when you stepped out, but you knew that he wouldn’t be. He had no reason to wait. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? 

With a sigh, you walked out of the shed, entertain the dark backyard alone. You shut the shed door and crept back inside of your house, locking the back door and sneaking back upstairs to your bedroom. The soft snores of your parents gave you a moment of relief; at least, if anything, they hadn’t known about you and the masked stranger in your backyard in the middle of the night. 

Plopping back down on the plush chair, you grabbed your book, but you were left simply staring at the page filled with words, not processing anything that you were looking at. Your mind was empty, but it was racing a million miles a minute at the same time. 

The thought was heavy on your mind until somehow, at some point, you finally laid in your bed, closed your eyes, and fell asleep. It felt like hours went by, and maybe they did— you didn’t bother to check your clock. 

What was the point? It wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Whether it was 11 o’clock or 6 o’clock, you would still have been laying there contemplating everything but thinking nothing all at once. 

And when sleep finally took you, the last thought on your mind was that the man you were kissing smelled familiar. But you couldn’t pinpoint from where. 

<>~<>~<>

Tonight was date night; your parents effort to rekindle the romance had given you a night (or at least the better half of two hours) with the house all to yourself with your obliging work schedule. Sometimes that meant your friend would come over, sometimes it meant you’d pass out in front of the television on the sofa with some cheesy horror movie playing with empty takeout containers on the coffee table. 

Only twenty minutes had gone by since your parents had left, but because of the season, it was already dark outside. The lights were off, Nightmare on Elm Street was playing on the television. You were scrolling through your timeline on your phone, occasionally sending quick back and forth messages to your friends, but it was a relatively quiet night. You weren’t quite hungry yet, but an empty soda can sat on the coffee table waiting to be discarded. 

Truthfully, you were bored. You had been ever since that very first night nearly a month ago now. You had to admit, after a mysterious, masked stranger breaks into your house, it’s hard to find every day life exciting. You were left working with a bored mind and speaking with a lackluster vibe towards life in general. Everybody had sensed it by now, but nobody other than you (and most likely the myserteous stranger) knew why it had happened so suddenly. 

Your phone started to buzz on the coffee table. 

‘No caller ID.” 

You watched it for a moment, then with a sigh of discontent, you leaned up and grabbed it, then flipped it upside down. Was blocking the strange man out of your life even possible? You didn’t know, but you did know that if you didn’t answer, he would most likely just show up anyways. You weren’t in the mood for “Guess where I am” games tonight. 

With the finality of the phone call, your phone buzzed twice and then went silent. Not even a moment passed before there was a knock at the backdoor. 

You stood up, walking back to the glass door and seeing nobody there when you flipped the light on. You looked around for a moment before reaching to unlock the door and heading back towards the sofa. Things were quiet for a minute, almost unusually quiet, before the glass door slid open. With your back to the door, you simply watched the movie that was playing. 

The chance that this was someone else was too low for you to worry. Besides, if it was, who cared? Life was dull, maybe some excitement would spice things up for you again. 

With a frown, you looked back. What were you thinking? What was wrong with you? Even you were starting to go off of the deep end and finding it harder and harder by the day to fully understand what was going on. 

But sure enough, there he was: tall, cloaked, a mask placed perfectly on the face of the man that you assumed to be extremely handsome. You had felt his face, his strong jawline, his soft, short hair. Despite not being able to see him, there was a feeling in your gut that he was very attractive. 

Without a word, you looked back to the television as he slid the door shut. You heard it lock, then soft footsteps started to come closer to you. The floorboards right behind the sofa creaked. 

“Are you going to stay this time?” You asked, side eyeing the man as he moved around to the side of the sofa. “Because I’m not restarting the movie.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he sat down on the other end of the sofa, glancing from you towards the television. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Time seemed to creep by extra slow tonight. Maybe it was because you weren’t entangled in a heated, blindfolded make out session with the man like you were before, or maybe it was because no words were being said for the better half of twenty minutes. 

“Are you hungry?” You asked, standing up. “Because I’m getting hungry.” Heading to the kitchen, you left the man sitting alone in front of the television and opened the refrigerator. There were plenty of leftovers inside, but nothing jumped out at you. Your stomach grumbled, but as you searched effortlessly, not even the chips in the pantry sounded good. With a groan of annoyance, you shut the pantry and turned around, though you gave a soft gasp quickly afterwards. “You scared me.” You met his gaze through the mask; somehow he had quietly snuck into the kitchen and stood only a couple of feet away from you. How he’d perfectly avoided every creak in the floorboards you weren’t sure. It was almost as if he knew the layout. Had he been stalking you for that long? “Why are you just looking at me like that?” You asked in an almost annoyed tone. “What are you gonna do, Mr. Ghostface? Kill me?” You were almost patronizing the masked figure that didn’t budge. “I didn’t think so.” 

You walked around the man and walked towards your phone that sat in the living room. There were several messages from your friends, but you chose to ignore those, instead going to your apps and looking for the mobile pizza app. 

When all else failed, a pizza for delivery was never going to disappoint. 

“Are you opposed to pepperoni?” You asked aloud, glancing back towards the kitchen where the man still stood. He gave a small shake of his head, though time time he started to walk into the sitting room with you. “I’m thinking that pizza is kind of the only option here.” Quickly, you selected a medium pepperoni pizza and clicked delivery. Now, you had about twenty more minutes alone with the man before a nice distraction such as food came. 

You went to sit back on the sofa, but the man caught your wrist before you could move. You looked at him, confused. At first, he reached for his pocket. You knew what he was going to do so you tried to hide the disappointment on your face. 

But he shocked you, stopping himself and instead slowly reaching up and adjusting the mask to askew away from his mouth. You frowned at his strange behavior, watching as he slowly leaned in. 

You regained your composure quickly— after all, wasn’t this what you’d been wanting again this whole month? Even a small kiss from the man that you spent your nights daydreaming about. 

So you closed your eyes and tilted your head up. Warm fingers grasped your chin— you hadn’t even noticed he’d taken the black leather gloves he wore off— holding you in place for a shockingly soft kiss. This time, you automatically reached up, hands resting on his shoulders and holding onto his cloak. Your nose brushed the mask, but you didn’t think twice about it, tilting your head to the other side so that you wouldn’t disturb it. 

His warm hand rested behind your head, holding you close to him and deepening the gentle kiss. You swore you felt the same hint of desperateness that you had felt before. His hand moved away from your chin, reaching down to grasp at your waist and pull you snug against him. You gave a soft gasp into his mouth when he abruptly pulled you against him, only giving him the ample opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. 

Your phone buzzed twice— a message, most likely from your friend that you hadn’t replied to— it was something that you ignored as he gently moved you back only pulling away from a moment to sit on the sofa with you. 

You went to sit beside the man, but he was quick to grasp your hips and pull you onto his lap. Your cheeks flushed and you gave a small, nervous laugh as you shifted against the man. 

“What are you so worried about?” He reached up, pulling the mask off of his face and meeting your, now shocked, eyes with his intense gaze. “You think I can’t handle you or something?” You went to speak, but instead only a small ‘uh’ escaped from your mouth. You were speechless, staring at the man with an open mouth. 

“I… Stu…?” Your shock was quick to turn to annoyance. “Are you fucking around with me right now?” He raised an eyebrow in question quickly. “Somehow, someway, you found out about that night and now you’re just trying to get on my nerves?” 

“You realize that makes absolutely no fucking sense, right?” 

“Yeah, well… well, you make no sense.” He scoffed. 

“Like when?” 

“Like right now. What are you… what are you doing?” 

“What I’ve wanted to do for a really, really long time, and what I’ve been too afraid to do because I was worried… well, I was worried that you wouldn’t… feel the same.” 

“So you dressed up as Ghostface and broke into my house?” He was quiet for a second before giving a slightly awkward laugh. 

“Yeah, uh… that was maybe a little weird.” 

“A little weird?” 

“Hey, you know what, you can’t even deny liking it. I felt how fucking wet you were, you secret little whore.” 

“Hey!” 

“I always knew you were like this.” He spoke over you, fingers gently grasping your hips. “I did this because… I was scared, okay.” He forced out, not meeting your gaze and instead keeping his eyes down on your clothed chest. “I was afraid that you’d hate me if I told you that I had a little… fuck— fine, a huge crush on you.” Your cheeks were warm as he clenched his jaw and sighed. “You already hate me when I’m me. I thought maybe… you wouldn’t hate me if I was someone else.” Your chest fell at his soft tone. 

“I don’t hate you,” you spoke gently. “I never hated you.” 

“You didn’t?” He asked, finally meeting your eyes. 

“No. You get on my nerves sometimes and I really hate how you’re always teasing and pestering me, but I never hated you. I always kind of liked you. Even when you were being obnoxious.” 

“There’s no chance you ever… liked me at all, is there?” 

“I guess I kind of thought you were cute when I first met you. But you seemed uninterested so I just kinda… brushed it off.” You shrugged gently. “Maybe… thinking about you that way again wouldn’t be that hard. I mean… you do make me laugh. And you’re pretty funny. And you do give really good head.” He chuckled. “But did you… did you really kill that girl…?” Stu was quiet for a second too long. You were tense on his lap as his fingers tightened on your waist. “Fuck, Stu— why?” 

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” He was joking, you knew that, but things were too tense for you to laugh at him. After all, you were finding out someone you had sat next to for years now was a murderer. “I’m joking.” He said when you didn’t laugh. “I’d never hurt you.” 

“Could I really trust that?” You asked softly. 

“I guess I can’t expect you to. But I can tell you that I wouldn’t anyways. And if I wanted to, I already would have. You and Billy are my best friends. I wouldn’t ever hurt my best friend.” 

“Does Billy know?” Stu hesitated for a second before giving a gentle nod. 

“But you can’t tell him that you know. He’d be pissed if he found out that I was here now. Or that I’d ever come here in the first place. I couldn’t stay last time because I had to go but… just don’t tell Billy.” 

“Is Billy… like this, too?” He was quiet, giving you your answer. But neither of you said anything. With a sigh, you looked down and shut your eyes. Warm fingers gently grasped your chin. 

“Listen, I know that this is a lot of information to take in. I didn’t want to tell you, but I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. It’s hard not to tell you whatever you’re asking when you look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know, you just have this look.” 

“Are you calling me intimidating?” 

“If the shoe fits.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like you can just see right through me.” 

“After this past week of me being around you and not having a single clue that you were the masked stranger that broke into my house and gave me the best fuck I’ve ever had… I don’t think you’re really that transparent anymore. Sorry that I ever called you that in the first place. That was kind of mean.” Stu sent you a smile, a cute one. You knew that it should be different, but you were seeing Stu in a completely different light— and not a bad one. 

“Call it water under the bridge.” 

“What… happens now, Stu?” You asked, almost hesitantly. “Do we just go back to hanging out with Billy and pretend that this entire thing never happened?” With a soft hum, Stu gently squeezed your hips in his hands. 

“Maybe you’d let me… take you out and we could see what happens when I’m not just some masked stranger breaking into your house anymore. If you want.” You were quiet for a moment, eyeing the man with a nearly unreadable look on your face. Stu swallowed hard as you gently cupped his face in your hands and gave a soft hum. You leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips; when you pulled back his eyes were closed and lips still puckered. He sent you a disappointed look when he opened his eyes, but it was quick to change when you spoke. 

“I think I’d like that.” 

“You’re so pretty like this.” Immediately, you felt your face flush as you looked down. “Without the mask on and the blindfold covering these pretty eyes I can really see you.” He gently gripped your chin and made you look at him. “God… I always knew you had this intimidating look, but you never let me look at you like this. I could look at you like this forever.” Scoffing, you pushed his hand off and looked away again. 

“Quit buttering me up, I already told you I’d go out with you.” Stu gave a soft laugh and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your neck. 

“Can’t you just let me be nice to you?” 

“No, it’s weird.” 

“It’s only weird if you let it be weird.” With a soft huff, you forced yourself to meet his intense gaze again. 

“I’ve never thought of you like this before, I always kind of pictured you as a brother or a really weird friend. Thinking about you this way is… different. And you looking at me like that it’s just… you’ve never looked at me like that before.” 

“Not that you ever saw.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’re oblivious. I’ve always looked at you like this.” 

“I think that I would have noticed if you stared at me like… that.” 

“Well, you didn’t.” 

“The whole time?” With a soft laugh, Stu nodded his head. 

“The whole time.” 

“How didn’t I ever notice?” You asked with a frown. “I know I don’t always see things like that but… this feels hard to miss.” By the end of your sentence you spoke so softly Stu had barely heard you. He gave a soft laugh and shook his head. 

“I asked myself that question all of the time. But I was too worried you’d kick me out of your house if I ever came over alone. The easiest way to keep you from noticing was to have Sidney or Tatum around so you’d be distracted.” Stu sighed. “I don’t think you could ever really understand how pretty you look when you think nobody is watching you.”

“I wouldn’t have kicked you out— if you had ever come alone. Who knows, maybe I would have… noticed and you wouldn’t have had to go through all of this trouble in the first place” 

“Don’t you get it?” He laughed softly. “I’d do this over and over and over again if it meant that it would end up with you sitting on my lap like this. It doesn’t matter if we had to redo this entire life all over again, I’d always do whatever it took to get you here with me.” 

“And if we didn’t end up in the same life?” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Then I would find you and I’d get you like this in that life, too.” He said confidently. “There’s something about you that draws me to you like nobody else ever has. Maybe that’s what it feels like to meet a soulmate. You believe in that kind of thing or do I sound like a dick-jerking idiot right now?” You laughed, making the man smile at the sound. 

“I never really believed in soulmates, but hey— anything is possible, right?” You shrugged. “I never thought I would have liked a stranger breaking into my house and fucking me, but here we are.” 

“Awe, you wanted me to come back.” He teased you. 

“I did.” You said softly. “I thought about you a lot. Not just sexually, but… I just wanted to know you.” 

“You’re crazy.” 

“Maybe.” 

“I like that.” 

“Men like you always like crazy girls.” 

“But not smash a window with a tv and run my car into a tree crazy. You’re more like “Let’s go into that haunted, abandoned building and see if we get shanked by an old homeless guy who needs cash for cocaine.”” 

“You were the one that said there were probably homeless people on crack in that building.” Stu laughed and shook his head. 

“Remember how annoyed Billy was?” 

“I remember showing up to his party late and getting called an idiot for dragging you into that, but it was you the entire time who dragged me into it.” You snickered. With a dramatic gasp, Stu covered his chest. 

“I would never put someone so pretty in danger of getting stabbed by an old man on cocaine.” 

“Well, it wasn’t me.” Stu gave a quiet sigh and shook his head. 

“Alright, fine— it was my fault. I’ll admit it.” 

“I think you’re maturing.” You teased the man who sent you a small, genuine smile. 

“You bring out the better side of me.” 

“That was cheesy.” You said, but you were quick to flush and look down. 

“You know you liked it.” 

“Maybe.” 

“You know, I meant what I said.” Quirking an eyebrow, you met his gaze again. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I really think that… that I’d find you in any life we could ever live in. Even if you lived across the earth. You’re some… god, I sound like a fucking dick-wad right now.” He sighed and shook his head. “You’re someone I think I was meant to be with. You really do bring out a better side of me. You know how you made that joke about romantic tropes in movies where they always end up finding each other because they just meant to be?” You nodded. “I think that could be us.” 

“You really think so?” 

“A guy like me will always need a girl like you. I think I’m lucky I ever met you. And I think I’m even luckier that… you wanted me around. Even if it was just a little bit. You could have chosen Billy. You could have wanted Randy. You could have even been with Sidney or Tatum, but… it’s not them here. And it wasn’t ever them that you looked at like this.” Despite your embarrassment, you sighed and kept eye contact with the man. He was looking at you differently now. Almost as if he was desperate for you to validate that what he was saying was true. 

“I think girls like me need guys like you around. Sometimes I’m too serious. You help lighten the mood. Without you I… well, I forget to think of the little things. Like laughing at myself when I slip in the snow or being able to make a joke about an insecurity. You help keep me lighthearted. I’ve always liked that about you.” 

“You know, if things don’t go well on our date, I don’t want things to be awkward. I don’t want you to not talk to me again thinking it ruined our friendship.” 

“Honestly Stu,” you gave a soft laugh and shook your head as you spoke, “I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever look at you again and not think about you telling me you’d find me in some parallel universe.” He gave an awkward chuckle and finally broke eye contact to look away. “What, are you embarrassed?” You teased, earning a playful eye roll from him. 

“Shove it, would ya?” Laughing, you leaned in and pressed your head against his shoulder. 

“Come on, Stu. Like I could ever forget this.” 

“I almost wish you would.” Gently, you reached up and grasped onto his shirt and held it tight between your fingers. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“So what you’re saying is… that, in a parallel universe, you’d find me, too?” 

“I’d spend my whole life wanting to feel this… content.” He hummed and pressed a kiss to your head before he sighed and laid his head back on the sofa. “I’ve been waiting for this forever.” 

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” With a small smile, you leaned up and quickly pressed a kiss to Stu’s cheek. 

“I think I have an inkling.” 

[qawcamiz]

could youuu give me some kazuha hcs when him and reader is in bed? (18+) or maybe like kazuha being drunk and ykykyk JUST ANY KAZUHA HC IS FINEE 😭 TYTY 💞

AHHH MY HEAD HURTS!!!!!! I'LL JS FIX THE THEME TMRW IMSORRYY

I thought about this before, I can finally share it with y'all 🤭

Kazuha's the type of lover to provide you lovebites on your neck and whisper next to your ear about how much he longs for you, his hands are so soft they almost felt like feathers or something like that, The type to smooch you all over when he has an excuse to do so, then leaves a trail of hickeys down your collarbones. His lips are warm against your skin, his teeth nip at your lip lightly enough not to harm you, his voice is low and raspy as he talks to you, and his aromas are like some kind of fresh and woodsy blend of maple leaves and sandalwood.

He’s gentle when he's touching you because he knows what he’s doing, and sometimes he asks you questions that sounded innocent enough but still make your heart skip a beat and your breath catch in your throat. It was like they were destined to send you wild. He had this way about him that always seemed to get under your skin without even noticing. It's like his presence just made everything more vivid and alive.

He's the type to let you take the lead while doing 'it', and he never pushes you past your limits. His lips were like velvet on your skin, his hands were sizzling against your back where the fabric of your dress bunched up, and his eyes were wide open and full of curiosity as he looked at you with awe and passion, Even if he wants you to go further, he doesn't want to pressure you either, He would wait until you're willing. Kazuha is the perfect gentleman with his touch. And he's aware of where and which part you're sensitive with.

but the thing is he can be anything but gentle, whenever he'd have the chance to take a sip of wine he'd take that as an opportunity to drink more, he would let the strong alcohol burn his throat on its way down, and every time, he'd give you those half-lidded, hungry looks that make you feel like you're burning up from the inside out, and if you hadn't known better, you would have thought he was trying to seduce you by drinking wine like that, he'd let you see the little droplets on his lips from each gulp, and he'd let you know that he wanted you to lick them away. He was too far gone already.

He would put you over his lap, and then he would do whatever he could to keep you there and make sure you kept kissing him as much as you could. When his fingers slipped into your underwear, you know that's where it starts, he's very vocal and enthusiastic about showing off his skills in bed. It's almost impossible to keep up with his pace during intercourse because he's just so quick to move, and once he gets going he goes for it hard until he eventually exhausts himself and falls asleep beside you. You'll never complain because you love seeing him look completely relaxed and content, even though you know he still wakes up before sunrise with a pounding headache and aching muscles.

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Nine

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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The daisy that Kidd had welded was taunting you from its place on your nightstand. He was right that it’d never wilt but even if it could, the two of you likely wouldn’t last long enough to watch it happen. The cold metal material that comprised its stem and petals was ironic, a sardonic mimicry of what was beginning to feel like a fabricated relationship. You didn’t know what to think anymore, you no longer held distain for Hip’s advice though it could serve you no favors in your current situation. The writing had been on the wall from the night you’d met, the proposition of causal fun should’ve been a glaring red flag but you’d ignored it the same as you had many others.

You’d learned that Kidd was the type of person who could become enamored with someone and play with the idea of a relationship, but he seemed to lack the skills necessary to maintain the relationship once it was started. You assumed that years upon years of hardship and loss had significantly damaged his attachment style, the revelation doing little to help you work through the heavy sense of loss that clouded your psyche. Every day that passed was so dull, you couldn’t wait for them to end once they’d begun. You weren’t even sure how many days it had actually been and you honestly didn’t want to, it didn’t matter anyway.

Your phone was essentially out of commission on account of all the calls and texts that you didn’t have the strength to address. You could only read a few of them every once in a while, his words far too painful to handle. It was obvious when he was drunk or exhausted as what were once carefully selected words would turn into a barrage of mismatched phrases and letters. Killer had even reached out to check on you, he’d always been so kind. Sometimes you didn’t understand how they’d remained friends for so long, Kidd seemed to always be on some level of extreme. You wished you had whatever trait Killer possessed to make Kidd care for him so much, maybe then something meaningful could tether the two of you together.

You flinched upon hearing a car door shut just outside your home, a few short knocks on the door causing your heart to race. You did your best to peer out the window to identify the visitor but the angle made it nearly impossible. As you cracked the door open just a few inches, confusion knitted through your brows. Killer towered over you with his hands tucked in his jeans, alone and carefully considering what he wanted to say.

“I’m sure you’re upset and you don’t have to say anything, just please hear me out.”, he bargained with you.

“Alright.”, you replied after a moment, trusting Killer’s discretion.

“It really wasn’t what it looked like. He royally fucked up, but he did not sleep with her. I don’t know exactly how she ended up in the car with him, but she slept on the couch and he wasn’t interested in her at all. I can promise you that’d he would’ve told me if anything happened and if it had, I wouldn’t be here right now.”, Killer explained, “He woke up the next morning not even really knowing who in the hell she was. He was going to take her home and then come here to talk to you, but you got to the house before he had the chance.”

“He’s had more than once chance at this point.”, you noted, not exactly feeling like the situation was so easily rectified, “Is this something that he always does? If I believe you and go back to him, how long will it be before we’re right back here again?”

“I can’t say that this won’t ever happen again because I don’t know if it will or not. I hope it doesn’t, but Kidd is very temperamental sometimes and you know that just as well as I do.”, Killer replied with a very valid point, “I’ll be honest, I’ve only ever seen him this torn up one other time before… I wouldn’t have wasted your time or mine if I didn’t think it was worth it. He hasn’t slept and he won’t eat, all he does is fuck with shit in the garage all night, works, comes home, and then does it all over again.”

“I don’t know… This has been really hard, Killer. Things will be great for a little while and I’ll think we’re getting somewhere only for him to go off on me or leave me for someone else.”, you let your feelings be known, “I know that I love him, but I also know that I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know and I agree with you entirely, this can’t keep going on.”, Killer validated your understandably difficult position, “I’m asking you, as a friend, please give him a chance to explain himself. This isn’t something that I can fix or help him through, he’s spiraling without you.”

Killer watched you with hopeful eyes as you gave the situation some very intensive thought. To care is a curse and love is a cruel emotion. It’s manipulative, draining, and blinding above all else. It’s so beautiful when it blooms, but it is always met by the most gruesome of ends. Whether or not you still cared for Kidd wasn’t to be questioned, he meant the world to you and that would never change. That sentiment had come back to bite you so many times before but realistically, what more damage could be done?

“I’ll come see him, but I need you to be there.”, you relented as Killer let out a great sigh of relief.

“I’ll be right beside you, whatever you need.”, he patted your shoulder in an attempt to reassure you.

Killer held true to his word, staying at your side and offering as much support as he could in your respective circumstances. He waited patiently on the couch as you dressed yourself and kindly lead the way back to their shared home for you to follow. Kidd hadn’t noticed the two of you pull up and certainly couldn’t hear the slamming of car doors on account of the very heavy music that was blaring from the garage. The door was raised just enough for him to be able to walk out if needed, his bare and sweat-soaked back facing you as he leant over the engine bay of a worn vehicle. You stood just outside the door beside Killer, you couldn’t bring yourself to approach him and instead waited for him to notice the two of you.

After a few minutes had passed, he stood to retrieve a tool from his workbench. As he turned to resume tinkering, he caught sight of you and froze. His expression was facetious, not at all amusing but irrevocably indicative of how much he’d been struggling with all of this. There was no signature eyeliner or lipstick to speak of, only sunken eyes and dark circles in their wake. Trying to recollect himself, Kidd moved to turn the music down while Killer made his way to sit on their porch. He was close enough to intervene if things went sideways, but far enough to allow for some privacy.

You didn’t know what to say and it seemed like he didn’t either, the silence between the two of you growing rather awkward. Kidd looked totally defeated and while he was in the wrong, it wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed seeing. It felt like you could say anything and ruin him permanently if you really wanted to. Just as you felt doubt begin to chip away at your presence in the moment, Kidd extended his arms to you and gave you an optimistic look. Nearly all of your reservations faltered as you walked into his embrace, immediately being lifted off your feet and held as close to him as possible. His dampened forehead pressed against your neck as he folded himself around you. His grip was tight and as though he’d loose something precious if he ever let go.

“(Y/N), I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”, he spoke against your skin, “I promise you that nothing happened. I wanted to get the fuck out of there and when she asked me for a ride home, I guess I brought her here. She slept on the couch and I was about to actually take her home when you pulled in.”

“That’s only one small part of the much bigger problem, Kidd. You left me alone at a party full of people that I don’t really know and then you brought someone else home, only for me to find the two of you together the next day.”, you kept your voice low as to not escalate the situation, still stern enough to convey your point, “That was one of the worst feelings I’ve had in my entire life. I felt like I meant nothing to you or anyone else, that I was just something to throwaway and be forgotten.”

“It’s not like that and it’s never fuckin’ been like that.”, he said seriously, lifting his head to face you, “Please, let me make this up to you…”

This was something different, something that you hadn’t seen from him before. You hated everything about this, the way he’d make you feel, the way he’d sunken into himself, and the way that everything in your life seemed to revolve around him. Of course you wanted to pick up where you’d left off, but it went beyond that simple concept. Something within you knew that if this ended, there would never be another Kidd. In fact you’d never have the opportunity to be truly happy again, you’d only be mourning what should have been. It was unhealthy and that reality had crossed your mind, but in this moment in his arms, you didn’t care.

“I’ll give you anything you want, (Y/N)… You tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”, he pleaded with you while resting his forehead against your own, his tired eyes glazed and searching for any hint of clarity.

That always seemed to be his answer and you weren’t sure if he really meant it or if he just wished it were the truth. You wanted to believe that he had the ability to commit himself to an established relationship, but even that was a far cry from your current predicament. You undoubtedly wanted Kidd and it was looking like this would be the price you’d have to pay if you wished to stay with him. Perhaps this was the moment of unraveling, a realization of something you’d been missing all along.

“This can’t happen again.”, you repeated the same condition you’d given him before, praying that you’d never have to say it again, “I know this is hard on you, but you have to stop being so self destructive. People care about you and whether you intend for them to or not, your actions have very real consequences.”

“You’re right…”, he trailed off, seemingly taking in what you’d said, “I don’t want to lose you, (Y/N).”

“You won’t. We have some things we need to work on, but you won’t. I’m right here.”, you reassured him, lifting your head to kiss his forehead, “How about you go shower and then we’ll eat something? That’ll be a good start.”

He took your chin in his hand and placed a very passionate kiss to your lips. The gesture made up for the things he didn’t know how to say, also working to fluster Killer as he watched the two of you. He’d certainly tease Kidd for it later, happy that the two of you actually managed to reconcile with one another. You followed the two of them into the house and took some time to appreciate the comfort of Kidd’s bedroom. It was a sick sense of consolation, the familiarity of something you held so dear that was on the edge of being ripped from your hands at any given moment.

Part Ten

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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[moonlightgrisha]

Little Palace at Night

Ch. 10 After your grand display, you must face the consequence. Are you content with losing the Black General's trust? [Masterlist] Previous - Next

All days look the same.

Training with Botkin, summoning with Baghra, reading your books, and try to get some sleep.

You wear your kefta, blue as the Etheralki's uniform. It was given you as soon as you returned to the Little Palace. Nobody asked you if you would have chosen another color.

Some Grisha actually like you. They are fascinated by your strange nature, they help you feel at home, they don't care where you are from.

Some others don't make an effort to hide their dissatisfaction. You are a joke to them, a little spoiled royal whose pretty tricks are good only for tea parties.

You walk among them like a ghost.

You spend all your free time reading, especially all reports about war, politics and diplomacy you can get your hands on. The rest of the day you dive right into your training, even though you are not that strong as Botkin would like, or even close to anything Baghra would find acceptable.

Baghra, indeed, is the finishing touch of all your days. No matter how inadequate you may feel, she always manages to make you feel worse. She urges you to learn summoning in the daylight, which seems impossible at first, but as you start practising it, she finds more and more flaws.

She says it's a waste, all this power in a vain little princess like yourself.

You know she's trying to make you angry. And you get angry, and sometimes leave slamming the door of her bloody hut, but you always come back, because you want to learn. You want to master your power.

Baghra may whine as much as she pleases, but you are learning fast.

Genya introduces you to David, a lovely Durast who wants to know everything about your moon summoning, even though you don't know much yourself. He claims that light, like all things, is matter, and you can use it as a blade or a bullet in the same way you shape it as sparkles or spheres. Maybe General Kirigan could teach you the Cut. David insists about it, saying he's pretty sure you can work on your own version.

You don't reply to that.

You have not talked to the Darkling for a while, now. If he asks about you, requesting reports of your training, you are not aware. You see him, of course, passing through the Little Palace and sometimes at dinner, but he never speaks to you, and you never go after him.

You pretend you don't care.

But you find yourself going over and over your last conversation at the Winter Palace, always in the most unconvenient places, like during your training, or when you lie in bed, exhausted after a long day. It is unnerving, and you must put a stop to it, but you don't know how.

There is no friendship between you and him, as both of you have already made clear in your own choice of words.

You will never, ever make the first move, ever.

And you will never apologize. For what!? Just to have your little skirmishes back?

You have more important things to think about, now.

That's what you set your mind about, and you carry on stubbornly.

You'd never think you'd be betrayed by your own body, in your own beloved nighttime.

So, tonight, when you wake up with a startle, finding yourself standing instead of lying in bed, it takes a while before you realize you have been sleepwalking for the first time since you moved to the Little Palace.

Those few seconds feel like a vortex of confusion. You look around, lost, and grab whatever is in front of you. Well, whoever, actually.

As you look up, it turns out it is the General himself.

You try to step back, but he takes a firmer grip on you.

You look at him in confusion long enough to make him feel compelled to speak.

"You exited your quarters and didn't seem alert. The opchrinki reported to me". he explains.

That's the first time you hear his voice in so many weeks, you lost count.

"Sleepwalking", you manage to answer. "See, I did not lie about that".

"No", he repeats, his voice low. "You didn't".

The shapes around you are clearer, now. You are right in front of his rooms, and the door is opened. Why on earth were you going there?

"I am sorry to have disturbed you", you say. "Goodnight".

He shakes his head, and only then you notice you are shaking, too. Your hands tremble, even in his firm grip. "You are in a state. Please".

He gestures to the open door, and before you can refuse, you have already stepped inside.

The light is dimmer than you remember, and he is not wearing his kefta, but a black, loose shirt that looks much more informal. He gestures to an armchair and while you go sit, you ask: "Did I wake you up?"

"You did not". He pours something in a glass, then hands It to you. "I am not having much sleep these days".

His war table is set up with miniatures soldiers and banners. You look at it, while you take the glass to your lips, capturing an unfamiliar scent. "I thought you did not drink liquors".

"I said I do, sometimes. And I reckon you need something stronger than tea".

You sit in silence, sipping the liquid. He leans on the war table, observing his miniature army, stubbornly ignoring you. But you can only be ignored so long.

"That Is quite the army, General Zlatan has gathered", you remark.

He doesn't even lift his gaze from the table. "What would you possibly know of General Zlatan's wherabouts".

His dismissive tone enrages you. You put down your drink. He doesn't know yet, but you can play this game just as he does, maybe even better.

"Well, according to rumors, and to the pamphlets that have been smuggled around in the stables, he has been gathering quite an army in Os Kervo. Deserters, mostly, but regulars too. It seems, our First Army General believes West Ravka might be better off without the Royal Family. You'd be surprised, he doesn't have kind words for you, too. Plus, his father's country estate is not that far from my aunt's, and I remember stepping on the General's feet a few times at receptions. I also remember him not being fond of the Lantsov. Strange way to charme a girl with royal ties."

The Darkling is staring at you, now. How satisfying, finally being more interesting than his miniature army. It takes him a long time to try to speak. "How-"

"I read".

You can spot the ghost of a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.

"And what does he say about me?"

"That you are arrogant, impulsive and positively dictatorial".

"And do you agree with him?"

"Are you trying to dislike me even more, General?"

He chuckles, and you might think you have won him over, at last. But it's not that easy, and it has only started.

"I do not dislike you, princess. I don't trust you".

Delusion is not easy to hide, but you try to mask it with pride. "You only call me princess out of spite" you reply.

"How would you have me call you, then? Moon Summoner? Or maybe Sankta?"

"I have a name, you know. And you do too, even if you never cared to tell me"

He frowns. The shadows are starting to consume the already feeble light, but maybe you are just imagining it. His words, though, are as sharp as rocks. "My name is something to be earned".

If this was a chance of reconciliation, it went terribly wrong. You stand up and move to the door, without a second look. "I shall leave you to it. Goodnight".

But then, you reconsider. There is still a way, maybe, if you can swallow your pride. It might not get through him, but it could make you feel better.

You are almost on the door when you turn to him. Your words are like a river in flood.

"You know, I really am sorry for disobeying your orders. I was reckless. At the same time, I don't regret it a bit. Isn't that strange? I am still convinced it was the right thing to do. But I should have discussed it with you. Maybe I would have done it anyway, even if you didn't approve, but sneaking behind your back was vile. Just, please, know… I cared for your support more than my actions might have shown. And my satisfaction in putting the Queen in her place was utterly ruined by the fact that you were staring at me like the finest traitor of the lot. Thank you for the drink, It made me look like a fool even more. Goodnight."

You turn around, planning to leave as fast as you can. There will be time to consider all the things that escaped your mouth, later, in your bed, as another sleepless night comes to an end.

But you cannot leave. He has come after you, and he's holding you back, his hand on your wrist.

You look back at him in disbelief.

"Let's walk", he says, slowly. His eyes are such a mistery, he looks at you like he has been knowing you for his all life, and yet you know so little of him.

"Fine".

The two of you walk together in the empty corridors of the Little Palace. There's not a sound, not a soul. Beams of light are cutting through the windows, breaking the thick darkness which you step on.

He takes you outside, on a terrace leading to one of the courtyards. The fresh night air dissipates the last bits of anguish that linger in your heart. Behind you, the Little Palace shines in the night.

"You care so much to regain my trust. Why?"

He has been observing you for a while, already, but you only noticed now. You were captivated by the night sky, the moon you belong to, watching over you. Under this shimmering darkness, you feel you can reply honestly.

"I sometimes think you are the only one who could really understand this". You open your hand, and the glow seems to reflect the moon up above. He looks, charmed as he has always been by your power, and shakes his head.

"I wouldn't dare. A rare power like yours, I cannot begin to understand".

"Just like yours might be incomprehensible to most".

"Not to you?"

"I think I have known darkness all my life".

Your words leave him speechless. You realize something has changed in him, you feel it in the way he stands next to you, hands behind his back, composed as always, but with restless eyes, deep breathing.

When he finally speaks, he has regained control of his emotions, or this is what he wants you to think.

"You wield a majestic power, you know politics, and your insight has proven right more than once. We would be powerful allies".

"And the matter of trust?" you ask, your heart racing.

"You seem willing to work on that".

You look at him and see a wicked smile on his lips. There is tenderness and provocation, and oh, you like this game, but you'd never let him win. "This is not only on me. I require more clarity from you too. If we are to work together, we shall be equals".

You hold out your hand. He waits a moment, then he shakes it, but instead of letting you go, he holds it a bit longer, a bit closer. This is not an handshake anymore. But then he makes one of his witty remarks.

"Fine. You do know how to strike a bargain, princess".

You snort, annoyed, and take back your hand. "Please!"

You lean on the terrace and look once more at the darkened landscape, the silent woods, the silhouette of the Little Palace lying asleep under the moon. Finally, you turn to him, and you don't know this, but your smile, and the randomness of what you say next, it fatally breaks his heart .

"After all this melodrama, if I ever find out you betrayed my trust, General, that will be the end of you".

He smiles back, bitter and aching, but you mistake it for a smirk. His voice is a whisper that gets lost in the night.

"And the end of me shall be".

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005 @rainy-day-lady @sakuracheol @sentimental---circus @thelastemzy

[thelittlewriter]

Silent Wounds

Pairing : Shigaraki x Reader

Next Part

There was something wrong with the man you had been treating. He always came to your clinic badly hurt, only asked for a few band-aids and would leave after a little conversation. He acted like a young man but his face was wrinkled. You didn't know if it was due to age, exhaustion, his quirk or all of that at the same time.

You weren't a real doctor, you just knew one at a young age, and he taught you everything he knew. The "clinic" was simply a room in your apartment. It didn't matter whether you were a true doctor or not, you were the only one who treated them without asking questions or asking for money. Nobody else would treat villains like this. Like they were humans.

You hated the hero society. It made people irresponsible, always waiting for heroes to handle things anybody could. You knew that villains were more than thieves, murderers. They were more than just a danger to society. They had stories, they might have had a hard time that led them to have this life. You knew that heroes wouldn't be able to reach them so you thought that maybe you could.

You, the ordinary civilians who happened to have medical skills and a bit of free time.

"What is it ?" the man in front of you asked.

Shigaraki Tomura. That's how he told you was called. You thought that maybe he was lying. A lot of people didn't want to give you their name because it made them vulnerable. He was pointing at a pile of papers in a corner of the room.

"Just stuff I study," you answered.

Having a conversation with him was virtually impossible, as he didn't seem like the talkative type. Maybe he was with other people. Did he even have other people ? It really didn't look like it. You suspected he came here to eat rather than to have his wounds treated. Since the first time you offered him a slice of cake, he often came by. Sometimes he was just pretending to be hurt. You noticed but you didn't say anything.

"Med school ?" he asked.

"Art," you reply. "If I ever become a real doctor, it'll be hard for me to treat people like you."

He hummed. While he never bore any expression on his face, you could tell that he was somehow enjoying his time with you. Or else he wouldn't be coming back, right ?

Strangely enough, you wanted to know more about this man.

"When do villains sleep ?" you asked.

He looked up at you, silently.

"Well, you do your villain activities during the day and sometimes at night, and you also come here at night. So when do you sleep ?"

He shrugged.

"I usually sleep at dawn."

You suddenly heard someone knock on the front door. You sat up and suddenly stretched your arms. You were holding your neck. Looking at you like that, he could see how exhausted you were. He wondered... if you had to go to class during the day and help them at night, when did you sleep ?

"I'll be right back," you said.

He sat up immediately.

"I should go," he said.

You saw him walk away and tried to grab him by the hand. As he felt you touch him, he stumbled away screaming :

"Watch out !"

You took a step back too. You remembered that he didn't seem to like being touched. You apologized to him.

"Please stay here at least to finish your slice of cake."

He looked away. You didn't know what he was thinking. You only knew what he was willing to tell you, and it was almost nothing. You didn't even know what crimes he had committed to be coming to you instead of a regular hospital.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," you said as you walked to the front door. You closed the curtain behind you, to hide his presence from the people you would welcome. Villains tended to be jumpy if they knew someone else was there and Tomura was always silent anyway. Nobody would know.

You opened the door. Two men got into your apartment. One of them had blood of his shoulder, clearly from a cut. As always, you wondered what happened. As always, you didn't ask. You sat the injured man and turned over to look for what you needed. When you opened the drawer, you felt something cold touching your neck.

"Don't move," the villain said.

You obeyed. It wasn't the first time villains were robbing you.

"Please," you said, but without any conviction.

It used to happen all the time when you started. With time, they understood it wasn't gonna benefit them long term and they stopped. Those men clearly didn't get the memo.

You sighed. All your meds were stolen. You had stolen them. It was easy to replace one box when you had given it to someone. Replacing everything would definitely be harder. It would be harder for you not to get caught. One box missing is a mistake, twenty is suspect. You might had to close for a few weeks. You couldn't have that.

You turned around slowly.

"If you move, I'll kill you."

You watched as the other man was putting all sort of stuff into his bag.

"Please don't take everything," you asked again.

The man hit you in the face. You fell down, knocking the chair. Your cheek was hot, like burning. You couldn't defend yourself.

You heard the curtain open. You looked behind the robbers. He was like a shadow. You barely saw him coming. But then, you saw one man disappear. Only ashes were left. You looked at him doing the same to the other man.

Strangely, knowing he killed those man wasn't terrifying. The most terrifying was how wide his smile was while doing it.

Tomura.

You wanted to call his name. But deep down, you knew. And he did too when he saw your eyes. You didn't move, you didn't speak. But he could see that you were scared of him.

It hurt.

He didn't really know you but he enjoyed being with you. He knew you knew it too, and it felt like you were accepting him. He was a villain. The two of you were from two different worlds. But he loved how you made him feel... human.

You were something he wanted to protect. Someone he wanted to love. He thought it might be possible. It was a foolish dream. One that would never come true.

He saw that in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," he just said when he left.

Hey ! It's a little bit sad but not too much so I hope you liked it ! I'm thinking about doing a part 2 but maybe a little bit later... have a great today too !!!

[pr0crastin]

A teaspoon of crazy

Annie Cresta hasn’t always been always mad. Sometimes, when there’s complete peace- not silence (the silence just sets her off) but the kind of peace that comes from sitting in a meadow after it’s rained and listening to the chirping crickets- she can remember what it’s like to have a mind that makes sense.

She remembers inventing her own recipes for these eccentric desserts which people were always wary of trying and would then always end up demolishing.

She remembers having the attention span to sit and complete an entire five thousand piece puzzle. Now, most days her hands shake too much for her to even tear the plastic wrapping off the box.

But here in the meadow, with the smell of petrichor and the soft grass under her fingers, she feels like maybe she could pretend to be a normal girl, if only just for a little while. Of course the peace doesn’t last, it never does. No one is stupid enough to think that winning the hunger games means you’re safe.

Not even when you drive a stake through the heart of your last remaining enemy. No. Shank isn’t the enemy. He didn’t choose to leave his sickly mother and his five little brothers to fight to death in a cage for the amusement of rich people. Shank isn’t the enemy and he doesn’t deserve this, so Annie closes her eyes and imagines she’s driving the stake through Snow. It doesn’t make it easier, but it gets her out of that arena.

Her mentor is waiting on the other side, and he looks like he was in there with her. Annie is screaming. She’s exhausted down to her bones, and her voice barely works anymore (she wonders if it ever will again), but she can feel Shank’s blood on her fingers and she can’t stop screaming. She wants it off. She wants it gone. (She wants to be gone, too, but that’s harder to explain)

Everyone is very confused. She just won the 70th Hunger Games- she should be singing from the rooftops and celebrating. She’s safe.

Of course she’s not, not really. She knows it, and, as Coriolanus Snow crowns her the victor with his crocodile smile, he knows it too.

But there’s one other person who also knows it. He’s the only one who looks even half as destroyed as she feels. He always runs to her when he sees her. The first time it happens, she has just come out of the arena and she can’t stop the shrieking sounds which keep clawing themselves out of her throat. He gathers her in his arms and squeezes her so tight that she feels her bones rattle.

But she also feels her screams die down as he contains them in his arms, and she thinks that if he keeps holding her like this, she might be able to live with herself just a little.

After that, Finnick always runs when he sees her. It’s funny that he runs towards her with the speed at which other people run away. No one can come too close to Crazy Annie, because no one knows what she might do next. The poor girl won the Hunger Games and came out of it mad.

“I don’t think I ever made it out of that arena,” she whispers one day. It’s a calm day, peaceful enough for her to sort through the noise in her head and hold a conversation. But that probably has more to do with the person holding her. The day didn’t start off calm, but looking at her now, it’s impossible to tell that she was seconds from ripping out her own throat only moments ago.

“I don’t think any of us did, my love,” he whispers against her hair. She loves it when he whispers against her hair. Especially on days where everything sounds like static and she can feel the fabric of her clothes rubbing against her skin. When he holds her like a promise and murmurs into her hair, she feels settled enough to take out of his hands and play with his fingers without thinking about breaking them.

Other times, when she feels coherent, Annie wonders when Finnick will finally decide he’s had enough. He has no shortage of options- he could court anyone from the most beautiful woman in the Capitol to Snow’s daughter herself. Annie wants him to go. There is so much out there for him and she loves him so much that she wants him to have it all.

She wants him to go, but it seems she doesn’t love him enough to let him go.

It makes her mad when he stays, too. And when she gets mad, she takes it out on him. He doesn’t deserve this, she thinks in a moment of clarity, as she aims a vase for his head. His lightening fast reflexes save him, of course, he didn’t win the Hunger Games for nothing, and the glass shatters against the wall, taking an ugly painting with it.

Maybe he did win the Hunger Games for nothing, she tells him, because he’s wasting away his freedom shackled to her.

“You think I feel shackled to you?” He says, and his sea green eyes swim with hurt. Haven’t I done enough to prove that I love you? the hunch of his shoulders says. She absolutely hates herself for hurting him, and she takes that out on him, too.

“I feel shackled to you!” She screams, and can’t he see that she’s trying to be selfless? She will always need him, but he doesn’t need her. And he definitely doesn’t deserve her. She lobs a fork at him, as if to prove her point, and he dodges it. He catches the candle labra and sidesteps the flying metal tray, and he does it so calmly that she feels more and more unhinged with each step he takes towards her. He pauses when she reaches for the chair, and then he moves faster than she can.

He runs to her, and Annie freezes. She understands now, why he runs. He’s trying to get to her before her demons do, she thinks with a choked sob, and sinks to her knees with it.

There are no words, just arms which feel like home lifting her as if she weighs nothing and carrying her away from the mess that she has created herself. Her Their living room is a good reflection of what’s going on inside her mind, and it’s ironic that it’s also symbolic of their relationship.

She just wants to be normal.

“I’m never going to change,” she mutters, over and over again as he lays her down on the bed. She clutches at him like he’ll disappear if she loosens her grip, because surely no one is this good. No one is this pure. He must be a hallucination.

“Good,” the look he gives her is long and hard. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Finnick Odair and Crazy Annie,” she scoffs, and her breathing is sporadic. He places a hand over her heart to settle her, and she doesn’t wonder why it works. She wonders if she sounds as bitter as she feels. “The Golden Boy and his Lunatic.”

There are fingers on her chin, tipping her head up towards the most brilliant pair of eyes. Even in her haziest moments, she never forgets the ring of green in a sea of blue, sparkling with an emotion she can’t quite put her finger on.

“Yes,” he says, and a part of her is grateful he doesn’t correct her- doesn’t bother with false consolations that she will be okay one day. “My Lunatic.”

“You don’t have to have a lunatic,” she chokes out, but it comes as more of a sob, and she can feel her vision blur with the same tears she cried when she made her first kill. She feels like she’s killing Finnick, too. “You deserve a normal girl.”

He closes his eyes when the second word leaves her mouth, as if he doesn’t want to listen to the rest. Maybe it’s because he knows what’s coming and he’s tired of being reminded of his situation. Doesn’t he understand that she’s giving him a way out? It hurts to be selfless, and most of the time even her thoughts aren’t her own, but for him, shes trying. For him, she wants something better.

“There is nothing better,” he says sharply, and she wonders if she even thinks in her head anymore. Nothing, he says, not no one. As if he knows that she believes there is not just a greater person but a better situation for him to be in. “And if there is, I don’t want it I-”

His voice breaks and Annie makes a wish. She wishes she was someone who could comfort him. She has no words, not even the gibberish ones, so she offers a hand at the back of his head, buried in his bronzed curls to pull him closer even though she was supposed to be pushing him away.

“When will you understand,” he whispers into the skin of her neck, and she doesn’t remember much, but she remembers what it is to shiver. “There’s no normal for people like you and me. You are my normal girl.”

She doesn’t speak, because it’s easier to be selfish this way. There’s only so much of herself she can sacrifice in trying to let him go. Maybe she’ll succeed some other day, when she’s stronger. And better. There is nothing better. He presses his nose to her jaw, as if he can hear her thoughts and he knows he needs to remind her.

The fight drains out of her.

Annie pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his hair, hoping it will bring him the same comfort he brings her, even though it’s impossible for anything to feel like what Finnick makes her feel.

His eyes were sparkling at her, she realises.

[kaizoku-gary]

In the dark

Pairing: Kinemon x reader with afab/female reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 2583

Warnings/Tags: semi-public sex, oral sex (reader receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, age gap (no underage).

Summary: After sharing an intimate and passionate first time together, Kin'emon and you can't resist the urge to seek comfort in each other's arms again. The risk of being caught is higher now, but so will be the reward.

A/N: second part to The Calm before the Storm.

Read it on AO3

Cover by: ヤシヨ

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Kin'emon and you walk back to the house. His strong, callused hand closes over yours while he guides you in the dark. His thumb caresses your skin shyly as if a couple of minutes before he wasn't moaning against your neck as you rode him with eagerness. A tender smile lights your face, and you return the gesture, stroking his knuckles with your fingers. It's a shame that you cannot see how the samurai blushes like a teenager because of your touch.

As soon as you enter the old house, the loud snores and in-sleep murmuring of your mates welcome you. The warriors rest calmly on mattresses scattered across the floor. The room is engulfed by darkness, and you can barely tell apart a few shapes. Kin'emon and you walk slowly and quietly, being extremely careful not to step on anyone. Finally, you both reach the back of the room, where a shoji separates Kin'emon's room from the rest of the single-story house.

"Here we are," the samurai whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze; inviting you to come in.

The dim moonlight streams into the room through the small window, allowing your curious gaze to study the place while the samurai puts his swords on their holder. The room is slightly bigger than the futon on the floor. The tatami feels comfortably soft under your feet and you curl your fingers, enjoying the feeling.

"Come here," Kin'emon says softly, patting the empty space next to him.

The samurai surrounds you with his arms and pulls you closer as soon as you lay next to him. You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes, focusing on his soothing heartbeat. His fingers caress your hair softly, while yours draw small circles on his broad chest. You both remain completely quiet, noticing how you begin to breathe in sync after a few minutes. The two of you are exhausted, but it's almost impossible to fall asleep when you long for each other with such intensity. Tonight, you had a little taste of heaven, and now your bodies are begging for more.

Kin'emon kisses the top of your head while stroking your cheek softly, letting his thumb brush your lips faintly and praying for you to get the hint. If you would at least grant him the briefest of kisses, it would be enough to calm his burning desire for a while. Maybe it would also help him decide whether the strong bond he felt with you was more than lust and the ephemeral but warm feeling of having some intimacy with another human being.

You rise your head to find his gaze in the shadows and recognize in his deep brown eyes the same urgency that invades you. Desire spreads across your body like fire fed by the air in your lungs. But a particularly loud snore from the other room reminds you how thin the walls are, holding you back. Kin'emon stays still while you decide what to do next. Finally, lust wins over shame and you kiss him, feeling how his lips bring you back to life.

A faint sigh escapes the samurai when your lips meet his at least. His hands travel down your back, grabbing firmly at your buttocks as you try to restrain a moan. Kin'emon knows he's got to be careful if you don't want to wake everyone up, but it is not an easy task when you've become his need. His body cries out for you, for your closeness, your caresses, your kisses. Sometimes it feels like you're made for each other. It captivates and scares him equally.

Kin'emon breaks the kiss to prop on his elbow and have a better look at you. It seems like he's taking a mental photograph of this moment, and you give him a sweet smile as you stroke his face tenderly. A few moments later, your lips come together again. The samurai kisses you calmly, memorizing the texture of your lips and the taste of your mouth. His hand moves slowly down your body, searching in the bulky fabric of your kimono a small gap to gain access to your throbbing core. Not long after, his fingers reach their goal, rubbing their tips softly over your clit as you let out a faint moan.

"Shhh," the samurai whispers in your ear before kissing your neck. "We don't want them to hear us," he adds with a conspiratorial tone, letting his hot breath tickle your skin.

You breathe heavily and bite your lower lip, trying to be quiet as Kin'emon fondles you. His hot mouth leaves small wet kisses on your neck and you tremble, closing your eyes to relish the sensation. Your hands dive under his clothes, eager to feel his skin as his fingers continue with such sweet torture.

"Take your... clothes off," you whisper while trying to hold back a moan. "I need you, Kin-san."

"Not yet, Y/N," Kin'emon replies, kissing your lips chastely. "Why are you in such a hurry?" he says, sliding a finger inside your wetness.

A soft involuntary moan escapes your mouth and you instantly hold your breath, fearing that someone could have heard you. The thrill of playing with fire enhances every sensation, making them even more intoxicating. When the samurai adds another finger, your eyes roll back in your head and you have to cover your mouth to restrain a needy whimper. Moments later, a warm sensation invades you. Your mind goes blank, your muscles contract, and you let out a sharp sigh while a toe-curling orgasm takes over you.

"Is everything alright?" Kin whispers in your ear with his fingers still inside of you. Smiling contently as your walls clench around them.

"Y-yes, Kin-san," you pant, trying to get your breath back.

"Good," he says before his lips meet yours again, kissing you softly while he undresses you. His hands travel leisurely across your skin, making you squirm from arousal. His mouth peppers your neck with kisses, then moves down to your breasts, sucking gently on your nipples.

"Oh... Kin-san~," you let out a trembling sigh while you scrape your nails lightly across his back.

"Cover your mouth," Kin'emon instructs you. Without giving you time to comprehend his words fully, the samurai kisses your abdomen, slowly moving down until his head settles between your legs. Kin'emon's fingers ghost over your swollen folds, spreading them before wrapping his lips around your nub, gently sucking on it while placing a hand on your lower belly to keep you in place.

You instantly arch your back against him, making a strangled noise. The sensation is like nothing you've felt before, and you gradually lose the ability to think straight. You cover your mouth with one hand, grabbing onto the sheets with the other. Your breathing turns shallow and quick, and your body twists with every flick of his tongue, with every little suck he gives to your clit. That sweet mouth of his is driving you wild with pleasure, and holding back your moans is becoming impossible.

"Kin-san... please, stop," you whisper before gently pushing his head away.

"I'm sorry," Kin'emon raises his head to check on you. "Did I do something wrong?" He asks concerned.

"Not at all," you reply, smiling sweetly. "On the contrary. It felt too good, it was almost impossible not to make any noise," you reassure with a soft giggle while stroking his cheek.

"Do you... want to stop?" The samurai says in a serious tone, sitting back and resting his hands on his thighs. Whatever your answer is, he will respect it.

"Of course not," you purr, pulling him by the collar of his kimono until he's in on top of you. "I still need you, Kin-san."

Your words and the look in your eyes leave him breathless. If only you were completely alone. If only he wouldn't have to restrain the burning desire to let his hands and mouth run freely over your skin, as he makes you moan his name again and again until you can't hold it anymore. Maybe if you survive the battle, you'll allow him to keep you company one more night. To show you that he also needs you more than the air he breathes.

Kin'emon sits back to get rid of his clothes, and your heart seems like it is about to jump out of your chest. The moonlight shining through the window allows you to take a better look at his strong muscles. You ogle him impatiently while you wait for him to be ready. Your body is begging for him to satiate his thirst with it, and you open your legs, inviting the samurai to get lost in your soaking wet walls.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N," Kin'emon praises, relishing the sight of your naked body before diving into your arms to kiss you as if his life depended on it.

You let out a content sigh, surrounding him with your arms. The kiss is slow but intense. Kin massages your tongue with his. Your fingers trace the muscles in his back, feeling how the samurai melts under your touch. The tip of his hard member ghost over your clit, and you break the kiss to look him in the eye.

"Do it... Please," you pant, spreading your legs further and slightly lifting your hips to give him better access to your entrance.

Kin'emon presses his lips against yours while he enters you slowly, letting himself be trapped in the warm embrace of your wetness. You wrap around him so perfectly that he can't help but let out a long, deep grunt against your mouth. After allowing himself a few seconds to recover his composure, the samurai begins rolling his hips against you. It doesn't take him long to find a sensual rhythm, and you reward him with a quiet whimper.

Your eager hands don't cease to explore his skin and knead his strong arms. Your nails ran up and down his sides, eliciting sweet muffled moans from him, and you feel yourself getting wetter only from those desperate noises he makes. When you wrap your legs around his waist to push him deeper inside you, the samurai holds his breath.

"Damn, Y/N," He grunts quietly. "You're not making it easy for me, are you?" He pants before kissing your forehead as he fights to delay his climax.

"Look who's talking," you reply with a playful tone, cupping his head in your hands and stroking his face with your thumbs.

You both remain still for a moment, holding each other's gazes and enjoying the closeness as you try to decipher the meaning behind this moment. It's only sex. You tell yourselves over and over in an attempt to ignore that tiny spark that ignited the first time your lips met. Don't confuse this with something else. You'll only hurt yourself.

Kin'emon begins to move after a few moments. The predatory look in his eyes makes your cheeks burn, and you cannot help but clench your muscles around him. You try to keep your eyes open to burn every single detail of his face into your mind. But the delicious way his hard member massages your inner walls blurry your vision and forces your eyelids to close.

"Harder, Kin-san," you pant, desperate to reach heaven for a third time tonight. "~Please."

Encouraged by your words, the samurai places his lips on the crook of your neck to muffle his own moans as he increases the pace of his thrusts. Plunging deep and hard into you.

"Oh...Kin-san~," you whisper, melting under his weight as he hits that sweet spot harder and faster each time.

Your bodies dance to the rhythm of a silent melody that becomes more erratic and desperate as time passes. Faint pleasure noises and sharp sighs mix with the sounds of the night as both of you approach the peak. Suddenly everything immerses in complete silence and the world around you disappears when you reach an earth-shattering orgasm. You wrap your arms tightly around each other, struggling to remain quiet while shockwaves of pleasure grip your bodies.

Opening your eyes, you come back from that blissful trance your climax left you in. You're soaked with sweat, your arms are shaking, and your legs feel like jelly. But despite the physical discomfort, an expression of unadulterated happiness appears on your face. Your chest rises as you inhale deeply, taking in the scent of your lover. Your fingers trace random circular shapes on Kin'emon's back, and he replies by kissing your shoulder.

For a moment, the two of you are submerged in nothing but calmness. Your muscles relax, your breathing becomes even, and your heart beats in a steady rhythm. You kiss the samurai's temple, and he lets out a breathy chuckle, surrounding you with his arms and rolling on his back, so you can rest your head on his chest.

"Let's go to sleep," Kin'emon whispers, closing his eyes and holding you tightly as he drifts off.

There, buried in his arms, a warm feeling of safety invades you, and you close your eyes to let Kin'emon's peaceful heartbeat lull you to sleep.

*******

Bright sunbeams stream into the room, waking you up. When you finally open your eyes, the crest of the Kozuki clan tattooed on Kin'emon's back greets you. The black ink on the samurai's tanned skin catches your attention, and you're incapable of resisting the impulse to trace the meaningful symbol with the tip of your finger. Kin'emon shudders under your touch, inhaling deeply as he turns around to face you.

"Good morning, Kin-san," you whisper with a sweet tone, and he smiles, still half-asleep. You could swear he seems relieved.

"I'm so glad that you're here, Y/N," he mumbles before failing to hold back a yawn. "I was afraid it had been a dream." He concludes, placing his arm around your waist and gently pulling you to him.

Behind the wall, the other warriors gear up for the battle. The clinking of the swords and the sound of lively conversations and chants fill the air, creating a cheerful atmosphere. But still incapable of bursting the bubble of bliss you and Kin'emon have created.

"Y/N?" The samurai speaks after a while, moving away to look you in the eye with a serious expression. "If we get out of this alive..." He continues, avoiding your gaze for a moment as he looks for the right words.

"When we get out of this alive..." you correct, giving his hip a gentle squeeze to reassure him.

"Would you... Would you go out on a date with me?" After the words finally leave his mouth, the samurai feels strangely weightless. He hopes now that his heart will remain intact after hearing your answer.

"Of course, I will!" You reply right away, seeing how his beautiful brown eyes light up with emotion. He's trying so hard not to jump from the excitement that you can help but let out a soft chuckle.

"Kin'emon-san? Y/N-senpai?" Out of nowhere, a male voice disturbs your peace. A broad shadow stands behind the shoji.

"We're all going out now, so you can have some time alone before we leave." You hear him say from the other side of the wall. Kin'emon and you share a wide-eyed look. Your belly drops and your cheeks go crimson when the realization hits you... Maybe you weren't so quiet after all.

----------- >> * << -------------

[deathfavor]

@kisumshi said: ‘  all  my  best  days  are  with  you .  ’ pirate dorahans uwu

soft suggestions starters

" I think the sun's gotten to you, Draken. " Hanma remarks, despite the fact that it's night out and there's nothing but the cool sea breeze by the dock. He chuckles, a low and relaxed sound that resonates from his chest while they sit on the sturdy wood. " You're getting all sweet on me. "

This is one of the calm moments between the chaos that makes up most of their lives — or certainly their interactions. Violence comes in many forms, sometimes in the form of a fist, sometimes the clashing of lips and teeth. And then there are the calmer times. Times where they drink and trade stories since the last time, times in the aftermath of a fight where it's breathless, exhausted laughs or sprawled together in bed, but in a comfortable silence. And sometimes its just in moments like these.

That's the thing. There is no promise of a next time. Each time they cross paths could be the first in a while and the last forever. Especially on Hanma's side. The singular gold eye that watches Draken now is proof enough of the consequences of his actions. But unlike others, Hanma has not shrunk and become timid or more cautious because of it. It's like nothing at all sans the fact he has yet to let Draken glimpse what lies beneath it. It's nothing pretty. He'd laughed, almost undetectably a bit forced when he'd seen Draken staring intently one time. Instead he'd changed the conversation with a eyepatch looks pretty cool on me though, right? " Don't worry. I won't tell a soul ~ "

Hanma nudges Draken's shoulder with a playful smile and mischief in his eye before he looks ahead. He lets the silence settle over, the gentle sounds of the water lapping at the pier and sides of the ships being the only noise filling the air. Even the seagulls and music of the taverns has tampered out.

He had to admit, seeing Draken had definitely become one of his favorite things when they made port. It was almost instinct to look for the familiar ship, or Draken's face at a tavern. Sometimes he was lucky. Sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes it was Draken who found him. Either way, it was impossible to deny that somehow, Draken had become a rather large part of his life when not on the open ocean.

His lips press together. Such words from anyone else would be nothing but that; pretty words and hollow truth. But this was Draken. It really wasn't like that with him. " My favorite days are with you. " He can play it off if Draken tries to dig at it too much, and Hanma is rather quick to try to divert attention from his words. " Hm. Maybe I've spent too much out in the fun and have gotten feverish. Oh dear. " He feigns checking his own temperature with a grin, head tilted a bit away.

[editoress]

For the Noticing Trauma prompts, may I request 26 and Feyre + Tamlin please?

Oh no, I'm enchanted by Melody's plot ideas~. (Also: oh no, I haven't read the only ACoTaR book in several years.)

*

Despite the finery and sense of nobility on the estate, the Spring Court as a whole was wild. It was full of lost, beguiling places: lonesome glades, deathly beautiful lakes, hidden rings of impossible wildflowers. Places that felt untouched and isolated.

Feyre hoped they had been isolated. Even now, when she could sometimes sense them in strange, frightening ways, fae could usually escape her notice if they wanted. It was so frustrating to never be sure when she was being watched—or when she was one snapped nerve away from endangering someone.

Stay calm, but she wasn't. Don't use magic, but it boiled over when she least wanted it. Be a strong High Lady, but she had never led in her life. Stay close, but the estate was more and more crowded with fae, real fae who were strangers to her, who heaped expectations on expectations when she already felt buried under secrets.

So she had run. Only for the day, and only within the confines of the court. But guilt was oily nausea in her gut, most of all because she had purposefully left on a day when a riverbank ceremony would keep Tamlin from tracking her down. It felt like tricking him, or lying. But Feyre had thought of her latest burst of someone else's magic, of his ruined study, of Tamlin hurt and dazed just because she couldn't ever feel calm anymore, and she had gone through with her temporary escape.

Now Feyre trudged back toward the beautiful gardens between her and the house. She felt ugly, mortal, sweaty, and exhausted. But maybe, just maybe, she was too tired to ruin anything else. She might even sleep tonight.

Probably not.

She heard him first. Then she sensed him, strong and ringing. It was so invasive, yet she guiltily liked the sense of Tamlin's mind.

And then he appeared, bursting from between thick, verdant rose bushes with a powerful lunge, golden and fanged. It was hard to say which form he was closer to in the moment, but it was as a tall fae man that he came to a dead halt when he saw her.

He stopped so suddenly, and his eyes were so wide. He just stood there, gaze searching hers. It made her want to cry. "It's okay," she said wearily. "I won't... hurt you."

"Feyre," Tamlin rasped. His voice seemed to hold everything in the world: heartbreak, fear, relief, frustration, grief. He strode toward her as suddenly and gracefully as he'd halted. His hand reached out and cupped her cheek briefly—briefly, because in the next moment, he had pulled her into his arms. "Where were you?" he asked into her hair.

"I just had to be alone," Feyre muttered. It would cut him to hear, and it was true. "I couldn't keep the magic in. I couldn't be around anyone."

His arms tightened around her. "I'm afraid for you, Feyre," he rumbled. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you. I'm not afraid of you."

She pressed her face into his chest in the hope it would muffle her words. "Maybe you should be."

"No—"

"Tam, stop!" Feyre shoved away from him. She didn't get very far, but neither did she feel like fighting. At least she was supporting her own weight and could look him in the eye, even if his arms were still around her. "I've always hurt people. Pushed them away. I'm difficult. I'm angry. But now I have... all this power I don't understand, and it's making it all worse. Now everything that's wrong with me is dangerous."

Tamlin's jaw tightened. She watched his temper rise in his beautiful green eyes and then fall to a simmer. Yet when he brushed his thumb over her cheek, it was with a warmth she wanted to lean into. "I did say thorns and all," he reminded her quietly.

He was so stubborn. Her maddening, single-minded, dear High Lord. "My thorns have gotten a lot sharper," she said in a shaky voice.

One corner of his mouth curled up with a hint of confidence in the face of challenge that was uniquely Tamlin. His high fae arrogance that had so annoyed her once—now she wanted nothing more than to believe it. "Even so," he replied.

Feyre tried to smile and managed a ghost of one. "What will we do?"

Tamlin drew her closer. "We," he said, "will figure it out. Together."

Together, in the estate, always guarding against the court. It pulled her nerves tighter to think about it. And yet the idea of forever keeping her distance from Tamlin was worse. So Feyre said, "Alright," and let him carry her to bed, just so they would both be reassured that the other was there.

[sejmisland]

this is kind of unpolished since i wrote this weeks ago before i started this blog. any thoughts are well appreciated. im sorry this seems rigid and not so fluent. but thank you for taking the time to read :)!! it means the most

dear albert, i apologize for this lately worded piece of nonsense. the old man's nonsense has prevailed through the feeble, thin layer of security he calls "confidence". despite my attempts to work with my own team he insists i work with the ones he has suggested. oh the fruits of labor, no? i know how i sound; i’m hopeful, i promise you. there is no stress here, at least with the scientific parts. the stress comes more with my identity and the thought of who i will be to the world. so, i had to do something. i pass by the mirror frequently and see a new woman every time, and so a great change has been made within the past few days so that today i finally feel like… me again. perhaps you know what i speak of. i will show you in the next week because i will have some more time to myself and i am still very unsure of this change. i want to make sure i am who i say i am before i draw back the curtain. you understand, albert, you always have with that beautiful mind of your's, but i wonder if that fool who calls himself a god does. i wonder if he knows what i will do to this world. i wonder, if then, he will consider me a success, or cast me to the underworld of shadow and take my success as his own. i can't let that happen. i won't let it. sometimes, my mind wanders so far that i think that somehow, just maybe, they're sitting at the control panel and slowly pushing the accelerator down with every passing year to make me deteriorate. the closer i am to success, the closer my death will be. is that nonsense? maybe it is. i will leave the thought alone or at least attempt to. i’m sorry i have no snippet of poetry this time. i will try and include some the next letter or at least two snippets to make up for lost and wasted time. the old man isn’t quite kind when it comes to art. it all comes down to science and exhaustive work. it’s hard to get a break considering his condition gets worse and he pushes me to the brink for something that seems… impossible. why make an impossible goal only to push my health to the limits? does it make sense? no, but who said i would quit? my focus is not me. it is you, albert. i will be okay. don’t worry about me. how is your time in s.t.a.r.s? any more enjoyable than being cooped up in a lab? you can imagine the suffering i have to endure with birkin. the man never knows how to shut his mouth. the temptation to sew the man’s lips together so he shuts up for eternity… how grand. i worry that’s too violent and i’d be a fool to lay a hand on him. as much as that man drains me and gets on my burnt nerves, he does have some well thought out ideas. i see the reason for association. i apologize for the lack of words. my mind is scattered. i cannot quite focus anymore with the fever and cough my body constantly endures. i miss you dearly. this isn’t quite the way i imagined things to play out, but who am i to tempt fate? so, would it be easier for me to stop by the s.t.a.r.s office? please give me a time so i can avoid your colleagues... the existence of another can be quite trifling and troubling. with love from your dear sister, alex.

(some small sentence is written in blue ink, just near the margin.)

(”thank you for the kafka collection. expect my thoughts within the next meeting.”)

[queenofthedorks]

Last March I was officially diagnosed with ADHD after being unofficial diagnosed twice. Once my freshman year of high school when both my brother and father were diagnosed, the shrink was like “Oh yeah. She definitely has signs, but she’s doing fine in school. We don't need to do anything.” I then proceeded to deliberately flunk 8 classes in the next two years because I did not want to be in those classes, but no one did anything. BECAUSE I WAS FINE.

The second time I was unofficially diagnosed was in Fall 2013. I was working a full-time job and taking 9 credit hours of studio art, and I was getting close to graduating and trying to decide what to do, and it was just too much. Every time I sat down to make art, I had a meltdown. So I’m like okay. It’s time. I need meds. But I didn’t understand that sometimes you have to really push, and the doctor was like you're fine. Once you graduate, it will be fine.

I proceeded to almost tank grad school at least once a year for 3 years, and after a hardware failure, forgetting to back up, and in general, just being unmedicated ended up writing 60 pages of thesis in 2 weeks in a sheer fucking panic. BUT I WAS FINE.

Anyway, that's not what this is about.

Last March I WAS NOT FINE. (IDK how anyone could possibly be fine coming out of 2020/21, but that's also not what this is about.) So I took advantage of an online service, because finding a shrink to meet with in person after the previous instances was just TOO FUCKING MUCH.

And the online service was like GuuurRL. Congrats. You got both the inattentive type and the impulsive type. Well done. Well done indeed. We recommend medication. Also, some therapy, cause we’re a little worried about you.

At my med appointment, the shrink and I talked and eventually ended up with Concerta because, as I pointed out, I don’t remember to drink water or eat my lunch half of the time. I won’t remember to take my meds more than once a day.

And I was incredibly lucky because it worked pretty much straight out of the gate. I’d heard some horror stories so I was prepared to throw a fit, but the preauthorization was approved in like two hours, and I started taking my meds I wasn’t always 100%, but OMG, it was a night and day difference between being medicated and not. It took less energy to focus on the big stuff, which meant I wasn’t exhausted and frozen when I attempted the little stuff. And the constant low grade grind of anxiety I felt on a daily basis almost completely disappeared.

Then in January, I picked up my prescription and was like huh. The shape of my pills changed. Which should have given me a moment of pause, but this is the first long term prescription I’ve taken. About three-quarters of the way through January, I realized I was struggling. It wasn't quite as bad as not being medicated at all, but suddenly the little things like working out, cleaning, and packing my lunch became next to impossible to do again. And I don’t know, maybe it was actually worse, because I now know what I should feel like and I wasn’t. But still, I’ve been so gaslit by my previous experiences that I thought it was maybe me. January was especially grey this year, so I upped my vitamin D. Made some effort to sit in the sun when it was available and poured some effort into focus. And still I struggled. Anxiety kicked back up; small things slipped further through the cracks. I was really getting down on myself, because I should be fine. And I was not. So clearly I was fucking up some how.

And then I saw a tiktok from someone who was essentially in the same situation, but even worse. They’d been great for like a decade, but in the last two months it has been a constant struggle. And oh btw they were also taking Concerta. I decided maybe it wasn't just me, being me then. Maybe, there was something wrong. So, I started digging and discovered three things that happened at essentially the same time.

My insurance stopped covering the name brand.

The one manufacturer whose generic was precisely the same as the name brand stopped manufacturing it.

The generic that the pharmacy is giving is a bilayer tablet instead of a trilayer and is supposed to be time release, but????

The reason Concerta really works for some people is not the meds inside so much--it's just Ritalin--it's the way it's delivered. It's designed to do an initial dump of about 20% of the drug in the first hour or so, and then it does a really slow release of the rest of the drug for about 10 hours. Unfortunately, it's a proprietary delivery system, and with Janssen no longer producing it, it's the named brand or nothing.

Whatever this generic is doing it’s not doing it the way I needed to. And I should be fine, but I’m not. So after being kind paralyzed by anxiety and executive dysfunction for several weeks I am finally gonna talk to the doctor today about I don’t know? A new med? I don’t even know how this works. I just know that I know how functional feels now, so I’m not going back to not if I can at all help it.

Anyway, the American healthcare system is bullshit. Like I get that I’m incredibly privileged to have the meds covered at all, but fuck they should not be able to just suddenly decide I can only take a generic that’s not really equal to the named brand.

So after much dithering about if I should talk to someone, I finally made an appointment today. And after I made the appointment I realized they the only reason I dithered was because I’m concerned that someone is going to tell me I’m fine.