#need to just lie on the floor for a bit. maybe have a little cry. till i regain sanity

[pirateboy]

i actually feel physically sick thinking about the rolling stones right now this is reaching west wing levels of insanity please God can i be normal about this band

[evilminji]

You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?

That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.

But!!!

WHAT IF?

They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?

Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.

Riot in the streets.

Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-

Ah.

So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.

One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.

It Fiiiiine, Sam.

He's just here to Talk.

He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.

ON LIVE TELEVISION.

He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~

"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!

And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"

*drops mic*

Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.

Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.

The press secretary faints.

PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!

Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!

And Danny?

Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~

If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.

Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.

(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[rafecameroninterlude]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧

pairing: toxic!rafe x toxic!fem!reader

summary: ❝but you don’t go cause truly there’s nobody for you but me.❞ — not only did rafe catch you in a lie, he also saw jj making moves on you, and you allowing it to happen.

warnings: dark themes, crying, manipulation, slight stalking, physical and emotional abuse (from both rafe & reader), taunting, cussing, slight jj x reader (nothing serious), rafe hits you with his belt, unprotected sex, mild slut shaming, rough kissing, slapping, hair pulling, choking, baby trapping threats, soft aftercare

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is part one of my new ‘honeymoon’ series, inspired by songs off of lana del rey’s ‘honeymoon’ album. each parts are oneshots, and could be read individually, since there is no correlation between any of them <3 i hope you enjoyed 🤍 series masterlist

“is it wrong of me to enjoy seeing you like this?” you looked up from your hands, your vision blurry as rafe looked down at you, a sadistic grin on his face. you had a pounding headache from how hard you were crying, your knees aching from kneeling on the hardwood floor. “i said i was sorry! please let me get up.” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. rafe grabbed your chin, pulling you up so your face was aligned with his. “sorry? you didn’t look sorry when i saw jj fucking maybank feeling you up while you thought i wasn’t watching, while you thought i wasn’t there.” you shivered at his words.

rafe had followed you and your friends to a party at the boneyard, when you originally told him you were just going to go out for dinner. jj had been sweet talking you most of the night, begging you for ‘just one kiss’, his words. you were strongly against it until he pulled you off to the side, telling you how good you looked in your little red dress, being the flirt that he is. he was only two years younger than you, but in his eyes you were like a hot cougar. you met rafe’s glare, your skin burning beneath his touch.

“maybe i wouldn’t have let him if you were nicer to me,” at this, the man in front of you only smiled wider, “maybe you should tell me how pretty i look. tell me my hair looks nice, tell me that you like my makeup, appreciate me more.” your voice shook with each word, his grip unforgiving. you knew you were playing a dangerous game right now, the look on his face making your stomach turn. “you’re such a fucking slut.” he pushed you away, making you fall back with a thud. you stayed on the floor, feeling small and powerless all at the same time. you couldn’t help the laugh falling from your lips, the irony of the situation just comical at this point.

your small laughs turned into full on hysterics when you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the nearby mirror. rafe pulled you up, grabbing you by the neck as he backed you up into the wall, the back of your head hitting the hard surface. “you think this is funny? i’m so glad that being an attention whore is so entertaining to you.” you blinked slowly. “i’m sorry,” you sighed, “i don’t know what’s more pathetic; the fact that you’re so insecure that you had to follow me and my friends to a party, or the fact that you’re jealous of a fucking pogue.” you started laughing again, shaking your head as rafe picked you up, throwing you on his bed.

“you don’t scare me,” rafe attempted to hover over you, but you stopped him with your foot, “you don’t think i knew you’d follow me?” you arched a brow, eyes flickering to his now confused ones. “i saw you talking to ‘top. probably asking him to keep an eye on me, right?” you crossed your arms, your voice dropping down to a whisper. “topper is pretty cute, don’t you think?” rafe snapped, yanking your ankle so he could pin you down by the edge of the bed. you smiled at him as he started unbuckling his belt, his lips crashing down on yours. it was hard, rough, with his teeth scraping your bottom lip, but sweet and gentle when he ran his tongue against the spots he bit.

“you need me to validate your feelings because you feel worthless if i don’t tell you you’re pretty? what a fucking joke,” he got his belt off, the leather cracking against the side of your thigh. you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist so you could feel his erection against your cunt. “i don’t need your validation, i just want it,” he hissed when you tugged on his hair, the pain shooting straight to his already hard cock. rafe took your dress off, his hands roaming your body as you practically buzzed underneath him. “i’m gonna fuck you like i hate you.” with a slap to your cheek, you moaned as he pushed himself inside of you, your nails raking down his toned chest.

you could never get used to the size of him, the stretch feeling like your first time together all those months ago. rafe knew this, his eyes going soft as he filled you inch by inch, his fingers stroking your hair as you looked up at him with those glossy, desperate, doe eyes of yours. “you okay?” he trailed soft kisses along your jaw as you nodded. “ah, fuck, yes.” letting out a shaky breath, rafe looked down at your pretty face, “that’s too bad. we’re not doing none of that soft shit tonight.” you didn’t even get the chance to think straight before he pulled out and slammed back into you, a cry sounding out through his room.

rafe knew this was heaven to you. the choking, the biting, the crying. you were twisted just like him, that’s what he loved most about you. wrapping your legs around his waist, rafe pounded into you as you took each thrust of his hips. “could jj make you feel the way you do right now? the poor kid wouldn’t even know how to handle all of this.” he delivered a slap to each of your tits, your pussy fluttering around his cock. “i wonder if he knows what kind of girl you are,” you couldn’t formulate any words with his tip hitting your g-spot.

“you really think that little fucker would have it in him to choke you and pull your hair while you’re cumming?” your back arched off the sheets as rafe started rubbing your clit harshly. “please.” you knew rafe would ignore any and all of your requests when you were beneath him, it was your shared rules. he laughed, covering your mouth to muffle your moans. “i could cum inside you right now and ruin your life, you know that?” you met his gaze. “missing your birth control lately?” your heart dropped, rafe seeing the exact moment you realized he took your pills.

he laughed, but the smile fell from his face when he saw your eyes darken and your legs wrapped tighter around his sides. “you fucking slut, you’d want that wouldn’t you? want me to fill up this cunt and give you a baby?” you bit his palm, his hand flying away from your face. “yes,” you breathed, “because i could ruin yours too.” you met his gaze, both of you sharing admiration for the crazy things that just came out of both of your mouths. “fuck, i love you.” he kissed you once more, still fucking you like there was no tomorrow. “i love you, too.” your eyes rolled back as the band in your stomach snapped, your legs shaking uncontrollably as rafe took you to euphoria, his own orgasm hitting him as you clenched around his cock. “f-fuck, you’re just swallowing me whole.” his head fell on your shoulder, both of you a panting mess.

“t-too much,” you gasped, pushing against his chest. for the first time tonight, rafe listened to you, pulling out with a hiss. he fell to your side, scooping you up in his arms afterwards. you laid in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair as he watched you with lazy eyes. “we’re unhinged.” his chest rumbled as he spoke. you pecked his lips, looking up at him adoringly. “yes, we are.”

[bruisedboys]

your Peeta fic was EVERYTHING!! So soft and lovely.

Could I request established Peeta x reader where maybe reader somehow gets a concussion and Peeta takes care of her? Obviously only if that sounds interesting to you.

I’ll read whatever you write for him 🫶🏼

thank you my love !! I was really proud of it so I’m very happy you enjoyed it. thank you for your request too! here’s a little something 4 u <3

peeta mellark x fem!reader vaguely in universe but no specifics, can be read as an au or just post-mockingjay

Peeta’s exceedingly gentle as he asses the damage to your head. One hand at your jaw tilting you up towards the light, the other pressed to the side of your head that you didn’t whack on the lip of the bathtub. He angles you this way and that, careful fingers pressing down around the spot you’d bumped.

He presses down on a particularly aching spot and you can’t bite back the whimper it entails. Peeta cringes.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, baby,” he hushes you softly. “That’s where it hurts the most, yeah?”

You nod. You feel a bit like you might cry. You’re embarrassed at your fall, dizzy and sore, too. “Yeah. S’there a bump?”

“Not a big one.” Peeta finishes his examining and moves down to sit with you on the bathroom floor. He presses a warm, soothing hand to your neck. “Are you still feeling dizzy?”

“A little bit.”

Peeta hums. When you’d first bumped your head you were so dizzy you couldn’t stand. Peeta had called Katniss’ mother on the phone in the living room and she’d diagnosed you with a mild concussion. Normally you’d be worried about it, but Peeta’s been so lovely and patient you’ve got no room for worry, just love. Plus, you’re pretty sure his hands have magic healing powers. You feel better already and it’s only been ten minutes.

“Okay,” he’s saying. “That’s okay, honey. How about I help you get up and we’ll move you to the bed?”

Bed sounds nice. You do your best to smile at your lovely, caring boyfriend. “Yeah, please.”

Peeta slides his hands under your armpits to help you up. You’re already in your pyjamas, which is just pure luck — you’d been getting ready for bed when the accident happened. Peeta had come running the moment he’d heard the thump as you slipped. He’s been worriedly doting on you ever since.

He sits you on the bed and lets you press your heavy head to his abdomen for a few moments. He holds you steady, one hand stroking the hair at the back of your head, steering clear of your bump. You breathe him in, his sweet, woody scent, the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“Sweetheart,” Peeta pulls back, but rather than let you hold your head up on your own, he takes your face in his hands, holding you up himself. “I’m gonna get some ice for your bump, okay? Want to lie down?”

You nod around his warm hands. Peeta helps you lie down on two pillows and then straightens up.

“Do you need anything else, sweet girl?”

You know it’s pathetic, but you’re feeling miserable and needy. You tilt your chin up. “A kiss would be nice.”

Peeta grins. It’s pretty on him, especially when he’s been so worried for you he hasn’t properly smiled since your fall. “One kiss, coming right up.”

He kisses you sweetly, his mouth pressed to yours in a kiss that almost crosses the border of chaste but not quite. You hope he’ll give you more later. If you ask for them, he definitely will. He’s not one to deny you anything you want.

“Thanks,” you say as he pulls away. “For the kiss and for everything else.”

Peeta smiles at you and you know you’re in good hands. The best hands. “You’re welcome, lovely.” He moves away and you miss him already. He must know, because he adds, “I’ll be back really soon, don’t go anywhere, okay?”

You weren’t planning on it.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[fairyhaos]

seventeen as their songs' choreographies

pls i binged their dance practices and then suddenly i was like "hey this wld make a good hc!!!!" so here we are. here's which svt song choreo (specifically just the dance movements) i think each member would be

masterlist

seungcheol

super. no, it's not just bc of the fits and stylings that he had during the comeback stages that he absolutely slayed, but the choreography itself feels weirdly like scoups: the power, the confidence and the martial arts-esque moves feel like him

jeonghan

fear. maybe a bit unexpected, but the choreo is almost dangerously beautiful and very jeonghan. it's the kind of beauty that's like watching someone's destructive downfall and being unable to look away

joshua

dream. he's just having so!!!! much!!!! fun!!!! during the choreography video but also. it's so fucking CUTE and makes me think of him like?? the swaying arms and the little bobbing up and down is adorable and He's adorable and oh lord i need to have a lie down bc it's just too cute

junhui

aju nice. the chaoticism of the choreo which looks all whirlwind-crazy before you realise that their cohesiveness is actually incredible is such a junhui thing actually. it's such a bright and messy and energetic choreo in the most polished way

hoshi

crush. the choreo has kinda gay, kinda sexy vibes and they make use of really clever positioning in triangles/ parallel lines to give it a really sleek, powerful feel. honestly it just feels like it has hoshi written all over it

wonwoo

thanks. so much of the choreo makes me think of waves crashing and falling—the canon movements, the arms, the rising and falling actions—and there's something so heart-wrenching and powerful about it.

woozi

hitorijanai. the slow gentleness, the delicacy, the arm movements that seem to connote something gentle and opening up to the world all make me think of him. woozi has always been like a fairy in my eyes, and this choreo embodies exactly that

minghao

don't wanna cry. the synchronisation and canon moves are off-the-charts levels of gorgeous. also the way they tell the story with mostly only their arm movements is mesmerising and beautiful and so elegant and yearning that it reminds me of minghao

mingyu

left & right. the choreography is just so fun to look at. like, you watch them dancing and you genuinely get an exhilarated feeling of utter joy bc the choreo is so fresh and fun and idk it just feels like a mingyu-esque dance to me

dokyeom

anyone. genuinely could Not take my eyes off this guy in particular whilst watching the choreo vid n it's bc he makes the moves look so clean, esp that part where they move the movement from the arms into the legs??? literally gorgeous.

seungkwan

mansae. the choreography is sharp and fresh and clean and sooo bright. you can positively feel the groove in the movements alone, and the way they change formation so seamlessly with such sharpness is such seungkwan vibes

vernon

clap. iconic dance practice moment aside, this rlly is unironically vernon cuz it's just such a funny and fun choreo. that part where they almost crawl across the floor has me giggling every time and the amount of body shaking is so funny to me

chan

_world. it's just- it's just a cute song with the cutest choreo ever. i don't know why it makes me think of chan oh lord but the little skippy steps that they do and the adorable hip popping is just soooo so dino coded to me

request guidelines

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[firesunflamed]

thinking about Frank and mirror sex with an insecure partner

(nsfw, chubby fem!reader, internalized fatphobia?, degradation kink. smut with angst and a little bit of fluff and an attempt at exorcising some personal demons)

maybe he gets the idea when he sees you looking at your naked body in the mirror one day, the way you try to suck in your stomach, smooth out the curves he loves. maybe he even asks about it, and maybe you even admit to it—knowing that you’re not ugly, but you’re not beautiful, not like him. knowing that you get looks when you go out together, and the only way you can make sense of them is that people can’t believe someone who looks like him would be dating someone that looks like you.

and he hates it, because how could you think that, think about yourself like that? they’re looking at his ugly mug, not you. and maybe you smile weakly, try to change the subject, and he lets you then, already thinking about how to fix it.

and then when you have sex later that day he asks to try something different. you end up sitting on the edge of the bed, the floor length mirror moved to reflect your body, your spread legs as he plays with your clit. his face peeks over your shoulder and you’re leaning against his chest, and he’s telling you how beautiful you look, one hand holding the curve of your lower stomach. His thumb strokes the skin there and then he’s moving up to hold your waist, hand spread wide over the folds of fat above and below it. and you know this is a kindness, know he means well, know he’s trying to make you feel better. but it feels fake, feels like a lie, like he’s saying what he’s supposed to say because it’s not true, you aren’t beautiful, you know you’re not, why is he lying to you? And if he’s lying to you about this then, logically, maybe he’s lying to you about wanting you at all. maybe he’s lying about his love. maybe he’s with you because you know who he is and he’s worried about being turned into the police and maybe—

and you’re burying your head in your hands and then it’s “c’mon sweet girl, look at yourself, c’mon— fuck you’re beautiful, look at you- fuck-” and you’re shaking your head because if you open your eyes you will see nothing but every single flaw on your body, and if this is a kindness shouldn’t it feel good? but it doesn’t it doesn’t it doesn’t, and you don’t want it, and he’s asking now, softly, as his fingers move from your clit to push inside you and find your g-spot, asking you to look at how beautiful you are taking him. and there’s pleasure there, but it seems very far away, like it’s happening to someone else because he couldn’t possibly be talking to you. and he keeps asking, keeps praising, keeps using that terrible awful attempted kindness of a lie and you can feel him hard against your back but you know neither of you are going to come like this. you call yellow. he stills, slipping his fingers out of your cunt.

“What is it, sweet girl? what do you need?”

and you keep your head buried in your hands, trying not to cry, and ask if you can do something else. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but Frank, this… this isn’t making me feel better. I don’t feel that way about myself and you just insisting I should isn’t going to make me feel that way.”

It’s a long moment of silence before he says, “I’m gonna move us so we’re facing away from the mirror, yeah?”

“Okay,” you agree.

he moves his legs so they’re no longer on either side of yours before grabbing your waist and laying you down on your sides, facing each other. Your hands fall away from your face, even though your eyes stay closed, and he kissed your forehead, once, gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, yeah? don’t like seeing you like this.”

you take a breath, try to put your emotions into words. “I can’t— I can’t be told that you think I’m beautiful like that. It feels like a lie.”

“S’not a lie,” he says, with barely concealed fury. “You’re so fucking gorgeous sometimes I don’t even know how I got you.”

and you shake your head because he’s just making it worse and worse. “I know you think that and it’s very nice of you-" he scoffs at that description but you keep going “but I don’t feel that way. If you’re telling me that then I need it in a…. a different way. A way that doesn’t feel like it’s for me.”

it takes him another second to say, “alright sweet girl. alright.” he presses another kiss to your forehead. “you want something else right now, or do you just want this?” and you don’t want sex anymore, haven’t really wanted it since he started with the “beautiful”s, and you hesitate, because you feel bad that your insecurities mean he’s not getting to come, but you realize that he’s only half hard now. You’ve already ruined the mood.

“Just this,” you say, and you stay like that, wrapped up in each other for a long while.

he lets it go, doesn’t bring it up again. acts like he never realized your insecurities in the first place, except for how he’ll drape an arm over the largest part of your stomach instead of your waist when you cuddle, or the way he’ll sometimes grope your flat ass like it’s big enough to bother when you kiss or fuck. And you forget about the conversation altogether.

and then it’s a couple of months later, and he’s spent the last hour making you come over and over and over until you’re overstimulated, legs shaking. thoughts are hard and words are harder and all you know is that you’re his good little slut, and you take him so well. you’re trying to beg for mercy, but you think it’s coming out more as a collection of mumbled syllables that might form “please”, if one’s being generous.

“C’mon, you got one more for me, sweet girl. one more for me.”

you whine because you can’t take it you can’t take it how can you take it when you’re already this wrecked?

“shshsh… c’mon sweet girl, c’mon.” your back is to his front, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “open your eyes. open your eyes.” you can’t you can’t you can’t— “be a good whore, and open your eyes,” he orders lowly, and you gasp and you do, finding your reflection staring back at you. it might’ve caught you off guard but you’re already so fucked out that it only just registers.

“there she is.” He pulls your leg out to the side, the mess he’s made of your folds on display. He places a finger on top of your clit, but offers no additional pressure. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful covered in my cum.”

You whine, because the barely-there touch on your clit and the brush of his cock against your entrance are cruel cruel cruel. You try moving your hips, try to sink onto him, but his hand moves from your leg to your hip, holding you in place.

“Don’t,” he warns, and you have no choice but to obey the easy power in his voice. “Wanna look at you like this. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Think I could keep you like this all the time. You want that, huh? Want me to keep you like this, ready to be fucked like a good whore whenever I want.”

You don’t even try to answer, mesmerized by the sight of your swollen pussy painted with white, his thick cock visible below.

“You’re so beautiful. Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you’re beautiful,” he says, more softly this time, and the words start to break through your fucked-out headspace. Then he’s thrusting into you, rough and deep, and any thoughts you might’ve had are lost as he hits your g-spot with each thrust, fingers busy on your clit. Your eyes slip closed, and he orders you to open them again. “Watch as I fuck you,” he says, speeding up his pace, and you’re begging, pleading, but for what you don’t know. For more, for less? It doesn’t matter. Your entire purpose has narrowed down pleasing him. “Tell me how beautiful you are taking me.”

You know he knows you lost your words a while ago. You manage a high sound of pleasure, watching his cock split you open with each thrust. “Say it,” he orders again. “Need my girl’s pretty voice in my ear when I come inside her again. ” You’re stuttering now, mumbling, trying to form the words. “Say it.”

“ ‘M so- pretty- taking your- your cock. Frank!” You eventually manage, rolling your hips, watching him disappear inside you. The sight is so erotic, you think you could come from that alone.

“Keep goin’ sweet girl, c’mon-” and his voice is lower and lower in your ear, the way it always is when he gets close.

“ ‘M beautiful- covered- in your cum-! Please please please, Frank, please-”

“Once more for me sweetheart, need it to come, need to hear you say it-”

“ ‘M beautiful- I’m - I’m - beautiful-” and the hand on your hip moves to band around your waist as he moves faster, until you are nothing but sensation, nothing but his beautiful little slut, so good for him, so good for him. “I’m- I’m- I’m-“

Still in his thrall, you come again, writhing on his cock, watching your bodies as you do. You can see the flushed skin of your cheeks and neck and chest, see the taut muscles of his thighs and arms as he fucks you. From here, you can’t see the small flaws of your body just the shapes and the colors. Then he comes with a low noise in your ear, and you keep your eyes open, watching as his face goes loose, soothed in a way you rarely see. It’s beautiful.

He rests his head against your shoulder and you sigh happily, still not quite back to yourself. He uses his grip on you to fall backwards into the mattress, tipping onto your sides as he slips out of your cunt. You both make a small sound at the loss, but you’re not back to yourself enough to ask him to stay inside you.

You stay there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other. But eventually the adrenaline starts to fade, and you realize what that last part of the scene was. Your request, from months ago.

As if he can sense that you’ve come back to yourself, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Too much?”

“Was that for me, or for you?” you blurt, instead of an answer. The intense pleasure you had just been made to feel seems now to have returned as grief, the warning of tears thick in your voice.

It takes him a second to respond, and then he’s shifting on the mattress. “Hey. Look at me.”

Trying to blink back the tears, you roll over to face him. He’s propped up on an elbow, looking at you with such love and care and concern in his dark eyes the tears become that much harder to stop. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes. His hands reach out to wrap around your wrists, and pull them away from your face, and you give up trying to stop them.

Frank wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Was for both of us, yeah? You’re so goddamn beautiful, and I get to see it every day but you don’t. Watching us like that, together? Never would of thought of it, but it was… fuck, yeah, it was for both of us.”

And that’s an answer you can accept, can appreciate. Maybe the only one. But the tears don’t stop, and he kisses your forehead. “How ‘bout we go shower, huh? That was… I pushed you hard. Let’s go shower.”

You nod, and he pulls you towards the en-suite, warms up the water and then helps you in, stepping in afterwards before beginning to wash your skin from the mess he'd made on you. You stand there, trying to stop yourself from crying, not entirely sure where the tears came from in the first place. But when you try to stifle your quiet noises, Frank tips your chin up, forces you to look at him.

"Don't pull that. Let it out, sweet girl. Let it out." It's the same thing you say to him when he comes home from a bad night, or when the nightmares chase him out of sleep. You let yourself sob for something you can't quite put words to. Frank holds you up through it all, massaging your scalp and washing your skin, whispering sweet words in your ear.

he gets out only when your tears have finally stopped, a few minutes before you to change the sheets, then comes back to turn off the water and bundle you in a towel. he dries you off before pulling you back to the bedroom, helping you underneath the covers and turning off the light.

You're both on your sides, facing each other in the dark. You can feel him hesitate, trying to decide if he should reach for you. You move closer, burying your face in juncture between his neck and his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His arm wraps around your back and brings you closer.

"You're not lying to me." Your words are quiet, little more than a mumble against his skin.

He doesn't have to ask about what. "Haven't lied to you since I told you my name. Won't start now."

You hum. "This won't be... enough to fix it."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna keep telling you. Gonna tell you whenever you let me. As many times as you need before you stop asking, yeah?"

You sigh happily. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. I really, really, love you."

He kisses the top of your head. "Love you too."

[slttygeto]

COMFORTING YOU AFTER A BREAKDOWN

featuring: gojo, geto.

genre: fluff, comfort.

note #1: super self indulgent. my best friend had just finished comforting me from a breakdown and i thought why not write something abt these men being sweethearts.

note #2: double update???? see yall in 2024 i guess /j

—GOJO

im not even being biased when i say hes the best at comforting

he’s extremely intelligent. but his emotional intelligence makes him feel safer

he wont really act “goofy” like most of the fandom makes him out to be

but rather sit with you and wait until youve calmed down before he can ask you if youre ready to talk

it seemed as though the more he tried to get you talk, the more your lip quivered before you went back to crying again. this has never happened before, and it’s not like gojo was panicking about how to comfort you, he was just extremely worried as to what pushed you to such a breaking point.

rubbing your arms with his thumbs as you stood between his legs and cried on his shoulder, the tall white haired man remained as quiet as possible, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

“do you want me to rock you a little bit?” he rested his chin at the top of your head, gently swinging your body from side to side as he listened to your stuttered breaths and little sniffles that slowly broke his heart to pieces.

“are you ready to talk?” the question itself brought tears to your eyes once again, your arms wrapping around his torso to squeeze him tight and pull him closer to you.

“okay, okay, that’s a no I guess,” he added in a teasing tone, chuckling a little when he heard you snort in between sobs.

you were sure of one thing, and it was that no matter how shitty your day was, getting to be with satoru was able to fix everything.

—GETO

goes into protective mode the moment he sees that youre crying because he knows it takes a lot for you to breakdown this hard

will hold your hands and repeatedly ask you if youre hurt somewhere or if you need to go to the hospital

only to realize halfway through that it was just a bad day, a bad week or maybe even a bad month since you tended to brush things off until you were going to explode

“you scared me,” when he said this, he didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. yet watching you slowly sit up on his lap, swollen eyes filling with tears once again as you let out what he understood to be a “im sorry” in the shape of a sob, shattered his heart to pieces that he had to place his hand on the back of your head to have you hugging him again.

“not saying this to make you feel guilty baby, it just shows that i care. i care when you’re going through something and it affects you this much,” you knew he was referring to the fact that he found you sobbing on the bathroom floor, messy hair and attire being a sign that you weren’t even able to get out of bed the entire day.

“it was just a bad day. was too tired to try and lie to myself,” you mumbled against his chest, body relaxing when his fingers started to trace your back gently.

“if it’s a bad day, then let it be a bad day. even if it physically stops you from getting things done, you’re doing more than enough.”

and sometimes, you wish you were able to record when suguru was this…soft. not that he wasn’t on other days, but seeing him be this careful with his words wasn’t really often considering his blunt personality.

yet, you were still grateful for every part of him.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[charliemwrites]

I love the fic about reader trying to run away and how amazing you do all of your writing

(Don't do this if you don't wanna for any reason)

Could you do one where like johhny comes over and sees how different she's acting afterwards and how simon has her on a leash and collar and just how it would go with them both there, just how broken she seems and Simon trying to bring even price or gaz around but it only make sit worse and she kinda shuts down on him?

Could I be 🐇?

Hey there!!! You’re welcome to be 🐇 and thank you so so much for the compliment. It’s been a while since I wrote some proper angst… hope it turns out!!

(Warnings for depressed feral, a vague line that could be read as implied self harm - red skin around a collar. Please take care of yourselves!!!)

Simon doesn’t know what to do. You’ve haven’t spoken more than a handful of words in two weeks. You cry all the time, especially when you think hes not looking. Most of your time is spent in your room, up in your bed. Or out on the sun porch, just staring.

You’ve given up on tugging at the collar in front of him but he sees red marks around it in the mornings. He takes care of them of course, ointment and bandages. You lean away most times, pressing you back into the wall, and get misty-eyed when he insists.

He keeps a leash on you at all times. It’s a long one, but you’ve tripped over it twice and burst into tears both times. Big heaving sobs, and when he tries to comfort you, it’s the most animated you’ve been since he put the collar on. You kick and scream, an awful noise that cracks his heart in two.

And you just won’t interact with him. You don’t look when he speaks, don’t snuggle him on the couch. You even flinch away when he reaches for you, mouth twisted.

He thinks that maybe you just need a different bit of normalcy. A reset. He brings Johnny by without telling you, hoping for a reaction like when you first met.

But you just lie on the couch, barely even acknowledge that the door is open. Johnny swaggers over, loud and boisterous, crouches down in front of you and scritches behind your ears. You just squeeze your eyes shut and press back into the couch, trying to get away…. But not really. He shoots simon a worried look. Goes so far as to press his fingers against your lips.

All you do is mumble a quiet, “please stop.”

Simon could tear his fucking hair out.

He brings Price. You just squeeze your eyes shut like you’re having a bad dream. He lifts you up into his arms, even, but you’re deadweight. Don’t even grab at him to feel more secure.

“Can I get down now,” you ask when he stares in silence.

He puts you down. You just back away, head ducked, and tug absently at the latch of your leash.

“You understand that Simon has to do this, yeah?” he tries, hoping for defiance.

You stare at the floor, silent.

“Come on, wild thing, answer me,” he coaxes.

“Not… not really wild, am I?” you whisper, tugging harder.

“Enough, pretty,” Simon interjects, guiding your hand away. It falls limp at your side.

“Guess I’m still that,” you sigh, rubbing at your cheek. You slip away to the armchair, where you can be curled up tight and alone. Simon feels himself die a little more.

Finally, finally, he brings Gaz. He doesn’t do anything anyone else has done. He sees you, eases closer, and just sits on the ground beside you, back to the couch. Simon sighs, goes to make dinner. You curl up tighter.

“Kyle?”

“Hm?”

“It… might be time to make that call.”

[caxde]

Any Steve hurt/comfort

I hope you like it anon! thanks for the request! x

-

Steve harrington x roomate!reader hurt/comfort ~1.5k anxeity attack tw!

It shouldn’t have happened, not really. 

You were in your room, laying on your bed. There was nothing wrong. Everything was fine. 

Maybe that was the problem. 

Everything is fine, and nothing is great. Or good. Just fine. Suddenly the ceiling seemed to get closer to your body, but you knew you  weren’t moving, it is not possible to get closer, i can not float, you tried to tell yourself. 

It doesn’t seem to work. 

It also doesn’t help that you can feel your heart beating harder, and faster and louder deep inside your chest. 

A loud drum hidden somewhere inside you that is making you go mad, you need to turn it off, but you don’t really know how to. 

And the pressure starts. 

The place your lungs occupy is getting tighter, smaller, heavier. 

Breath. Please. Breath. 

It doesn’t work. 

Your body starts to curl up, your hands buried in your hair, a repetitive pattern, something to occupy your hands. You needed something, a distraction. 

You knew Steve was sleeping. You’d said goodnight to him half an hour ago, when he closed his bedroom door. You knew that if you started crying, or weeping he’d hear you, the walls of your apartment were thin, and you didn’t want him to find out like that. 

Truth be told, you didn’t want him to know at all. 

But at the same time, there was this little voice, a broken whimper that begged you to ask for help. 

Maybe that was what finally broke you. Maybe your body couldn’t take the restriction it had on itself anymore. Maybe you just couldn’t take it anymore. 

For whatever reason, you find that your body has found itself against the wall.

 And that the sound of the impact was enough to get his attention.

 And if not, the broken whisper of his name was. 

Truth be told, he did hesitate for a moment. 

He heard the thump and thought that something might have fallen out of your decorated walls, but as soon as he heard the way your voice sounded, he didn’t waste a second. 

His body crossed the threshold of your door before he was even conscient of it. 

He kneeled on your floor, where your bed met the floor, and looked up at you. He wasn’t sure what to do next, what to say. He stayed there, waiting for you to look up, your head looking down at your bedsheets. 

“Hey.” He whispered, afraid that his voice would startle you. 

“Sorry.” You muttered, your voice hoarse and raspy. 

“Don’t” He begged. His hand touched your leg, a soft gesture that made your head shift, concentrating on it, and the way he just layed it there, a pattern that he started to draw. 

“It’s fine.” You didn’t even try to mask your lie, not even a little bit. Then again, how could you when tears were coming out, a slow river of them. 

“It’s not.” He shook his head, the way his hair moved hypnotizing you for a second. Your hand found his, your fingers anxiously playing with his. 

“I don’t…” You were struggling to stop crying. Your face felt hot in contrast to the cold tears that travelled down your cheeks, your vision blurred, Steve appearing as a far away object. Even when you felt him right there. It felt for a moment -however brief- that you were dying, and you weren’t totally sure what had caused it, maybe it was from having your emotions bottled up for so long, focusing on curse work, and essays and cleaning so you wouldn’t think about it, I’ll deal with it later had become a new mantra for the last weeks. Now seemed to finally be later, and having Steve in the same room as you only made them come out rushing faster, like an angry flood leaving you a crumpled mess on your bed. “I’m sorry. Just go.” You begged, feeling sorry for yourself, and what was worse, that he had to see you like that. So fragile. So weak. So vulnerable. 

Steve knew that what was worrying you at that moment was the fact that he had caught you falling apart, and he knew you didn’t like it when people saw you like this. Vulnerable. 

“I’m not going anywhere, honey.” 

Finally, your eyes met his. 

And the softness of them, and his touch, made you reconnect with your body. Slowly. Like a feather falling. Steve knew that there wasn’t a lot he could do besides staying there. Waiting for you to open up, wanting you to do so, but knowing that if he forced you to do so, it would only get worse. So he waited. As your breathing became more regular, and your chest wasn’t heaving up and down as fast. 

His head was still looking up at you, the concern was apparent, but so was the unconditional love he seemed to have for you. 

“D’you want me to come up?” He asked. He didn’t waste any time, as soon as he saw you nodding his body was on your mattress, and his arms opened. 

Your body fell onto his, and he wrapped you up in the softest warmest hug you had ever experienced, or at least, the one that you had been needing for a long time. 

You stayed like that for some time. Your ear pressed to his chest, hearing the way his heart beated, and his relaxed breathing, it let your body follow him. Finally relaxing, melting on the spot in some sort of way. His hands played with your hair, as he hummed a song you didn’t quite recognise. Though he had heard you sing it countless times. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I’m just really tired…” He knew that wasn’t the end of your sentence, so he gave you space for you to organise your thoughts. Your breathing was now calm, but your voice was still a whisper. “ I just… I’m always chasing. And for once, I just… I want someone who cares, no matter what. Someone who will always be by my side, someone that can be patient with me, someone that won’t find me annoying when I’m crying, or lashing out, or stressed, or… Fuck. I just want something that’ll love me, as much as I love them.” 

Steve smiled. And left a kiss on your forehead, leaving his lips to rest there for a second longer. 

He waited for you to look up at him, as you knew you would. Even if your eyes were redder, and your cheeks were flushed after crying, Steve still thought you were the prettiest girl he had even seen. 

“I…” He hid his nervousness with a chuckle, and a stupid grin that made your heart skip a beat, even if you tried for it to not do it. “If you wanted to, I could try to be that someone.” 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” You begged, not really knowing how to manage what he was trying to tell you. Not really knowing if you could believe him right now. “If you’re just saying that to make me feel better, please don’t.” It wasn’t harsh, not really. He knew that it was a horrible moment for a stupid love confession, but he couldn’t keep acting as though he didn’t absolutely love you. As if he wouldn’t do anything you’d ask him to. 

“I’m not.” He reassured you, his arms still tightly wrapped you. His fingers had been stroking you, a soft, sweet caress that let you know that he wasn’t lying. “I’ve had the stupidest crush on you for so long.” He admits with a laugh. His smile grows deeper once he sees the way your eyes shine with hope and recognition. “I knew it’s weird to tell you this after you cried, but… You are one of the most lovable people I know. And you do deserve all those things.” He nodded along his words, his voice was also a whisper now, the intimate moment growing fonder in both of your hearts. “We can talk about it tomorrow if it’s too much now.” 

You nodded. And stayed as close as you were. Your eyes looking fondly at him, hope apparent on both of your faces. 

“Will you stay?” 

“Anything for you, honey.” 

He left one last kiss on your forehead, and you returned the gesture, a soft kiss on his cheek. 

He had to be careful, if he didn’t control himself he could never stop kissing you. 

He laid on your mattress, his body touching the wall, his arms opened for you, waiting for you to make yourself comfortable. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, as your body wrapped around him. Your leg hugging his body. You kissed his chest. Thank you, it said. 

He kissed your hand before intertwining your fingers. You’re welcome, he responded. 

-

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I have a cute one!

S/O and Skeleton going for the first ultrasound of S/Os pregnancy!

Undertale Sans - He goes full scientist mode to hide his anxiety. You never see him like this before, immediately checking the screen and asking a million questions to the doctor as you're just standing there, wondering if he feels ok. Sans is a bit excited but also a bit terrified. It's an interesting mix. You can see he's trying really hard to stay his old neutral friendly self but man, he's just so nervous omg.

Undertale Papyrus - He's more interested in how the hell the whole thing works honestly. His ADHD saw shiny weird machines that could literally see through your body, that's crazy! Can you see inside of his body too?! The doctor looks at you for help as they're trying to explain that it will probably not work on a skeleton??? He doesn't have any organs? They think? He's also excited about the baby, but really, if you can't check his belly, can you at least try it on his skull? He wants to see the inside of his own skull!

Underswap Sans - He starts to hyperventilate. Ok, you were pregnant, it's cool and all but it was not real in his mind before that moment when he actually saw the baby right in front of his eyes and can't be in denial anymore. He's slightly panicking now, as he's realizing that it's really happening and that it's too late to go back. He wants to cry so bad.

Underswap Papyrus - He's a crying mess, he can barely see the baby. His eye sockets are crying uncontrollably. He's so happy, and he knows he's overreacting, it's even worse than then you announced to him you were pregnant but he can't help it lol. You take him to have ice cream after the ultrasound so he can recover.

Underfell Sans - That's actually the second he sees the baby that he realizes that it's not a joke and that he's really going to be a dad. You suddenly hear a loud sound as poor Red's soul can't take it and makes him pass out on the floor lol. He's fine, just a little too in shock to answer at the moment. The doctor mocks you telling you maybe you should ask for an additional doctor while you're giving birth because they have a feeling he's not going to take it well.

Underfell Papyrus - He keeps a brave face during the whole exam and he's god damn proud of him. Yeah, because inside, he is screaming and panicking right now. He's using all of his soldier's skills to stay perfectly neutral on the inside. He's crushing your hand though, so you know something is not ok. But Edge refuses to meet your eyes because he's too scared he will burst into tears if you ask him if he's fine. He's going to need a moment after that.

Horrortale Sans - He's nervous. Not about the baby, but about the fact he's in a hospital and that the door is closed, and that you're on a table, and that a doctor is torturing you right now and he is slowly panicking. Thank Asgore, you asked Willow and Toriel to come. They're waiting outside of the room, ready to intervene if Oak suddenly attacks the doctor for a too-brutal gesture. You're not too serene either. He's relieved the baby is fine but he's even more relieved the second you leave that horrible place behind.

Horrortale Papyrus - That's three times the doctor asks him to shut up because his sniffing is so loud you can't even hear the baby's heart. He's trying so hard to control his feelings but he can't help it, he's too happy and excited and emotional. He crushes you into a hug when you get out of the room. He can't wait to be a dad.

Swapfell Sans - So that's what you meant when you said he was going to meet the baby. He's not going to lie, he thought the doctor would rip the baby out of your body, check it, and put it back in your belly so he's kinda relieved when he realizes it's actually not gore at all. A small part of him is still disappointed he couldn't see the baby for real though. It's too long, he can't believe you still have a few months to go. How many more do you need to grow a baby? That's so boring, he prepared the room weeks ago!

Swapfell Papyrus - He's strangely quiet, just staring at the screen. His mind is completely empty. He wanted to make some jokes to ease the mood, but all of this vanished the second he saw the baby. He's completely hypnotized, and even a little sad when the exam ends. He still can't believe he's going to be a dad. He can't wait.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He doesn't get it. Everyone is getting excited in the room, but all he can see on the screen is a weird-looking giant bean. Where's the baby??? That can't be the baby, right? It looks ugly as hell. It doesn't look like a baby at all? Stop cheering this thing, that's horrible??? He doesn't say a thing because it obviously makes you happy but he's really concerned right now. He doesn't want to be the dad of a weird bean???

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He needs mental support so bad but the doctor asked him to stop climbing on the table to hug you. So he kinda panicked and randomly jumped on the doctor's back for a hug. He apologizes afterwards but he can't help it. There are too many thoughts inside his head, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do!

[justanamesstuff]

Tell Me When You're Ready - Matty Healy x f!reader

Based on 'When You're Ready' by Shawn Mendes

A/N: HELLO, THIS IS PURE PAIN IM SORRY! It's my first angsty fic so please tell me what you think :)) I'd say happy reading but...

Warning: ANGST, unrequited feelings, crying, fainting, slight mention of death. maybe typos, i checked but who know

Word count: 3.2 K

Blog Masterlist

Mhm, mhm

Maybe I had too many drinks

But that's just what I needed

I hope that you don't think that what I'm saying sounds conceited

When I look across the room, and you're staring right back at me

Like somebody told a joke and we're the only ones laughin'

The corner of the room was the only place secured enough to be at the moment. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, or her mind couldn’t stop thinking about them, about him. Her head clouded by his presence like never before. Missed him didn’t even scratch the surface of what she felt during those months. Hell, during those years he had been touring the world. Without her. 

A big gulp of the drink she nursed for the last few minutes, one of the countless glasses she held during the night. The self-pity bubbling on the back of her stomach. ‘He doesn’t care about you, he’s busy…with her’, she thought. 

Loving without reciprocation. What a cliché she was. If he knew, he would probably laugh about it. 

The glass empty, presented in front of her body, took the attention of her mind. A short break from a panoramic view of the party around the couple. It was like a film when the camera focus only on the protagonists and the rest of the room disappears. ‘Cliché again’, she mumbled. The awareness of being drunk didn’t stop her wants to keep going, to keep drinking until she blacked out. Cliché? Maybe a little emo from her. 

She forced her eyes up again. Something inside her wanted to watch the pair, to feel the pang on her heart knowing the girl standing beside him deserved his love. Well, a lie. She wasn’t his lover, but he loved her. She was part of his closest circle, although he had never thought about kissing her. Her want felt like a sin. Like a betrayal to their friendship. 

In a sudden movement, his eyes fell on her standing across the room, long meters away. She swore under her breath, watching his smile growing wider when the information reached his brain. He whispered on the woman’s ear. What does one feel when he does that? A tingling? A shivering around your limbs? She would kill to know. Yes, he had kissed her cheek. She stood a bit taller thinking about it, even when her feet were threatening to fail her. She knew the feeling of his lips on her cheeks, the texture of his hands holding her face closer to then left a sweet kiss on her forehead. But No, it wasn’t enough, she wanted the rest. All of it. All of him.

When Matty was in the middle of his path towards the other side of the room, she focused on the floor. The design on the marvel spiralling. She titled her head, looking at it. Her eyes refused to focus. She got so distracted by it, to the point of forgetting him walking closer to find her. 

“Hey, there you’re!” he was happy. Not drunk happy, just happy. Her heart fluttered, hearing his pitched voice closer. 

“Hi.”  she straightened her head up and back, meeting his eyes. 

“How long have you been hiding here?” 

“Not- Not hiding.” she hiccuped, Matty laughed. The sweet sound surrounding her like a warm hug during a cold night. 

Matty grabbed her by her arms, “Wow.” she didn’t recall moving. “I’d say hours and a good amount of alcohol.” he chuckled, although she couldn’t laugh. 

She felt the urge to leave, be far from him like never before.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, concerned. 

‘Sweetheart’. She wanted to slap him. He had his ‘sweetheart’ at the other side of the room, being perfect. If the woman was drunk, no one really noticed, no one could tell. On the other hand, she was a mess. Even with her mind gone, she could acknowledge it.

“Huh.” 

“Are you alright?”

“Perfect.” Fat lie.

“You don’t look…perfect.” she knew what he was trying to say, but her mind when to dark places first. 

She detached her arms from his calloused hands. “I’m alright, Matty.” the words harsher than intended. “How are you? Congratulations.”

Matty hesitated to answer, “I’m okay.” the answer unsure, his eyes following every one of her movements.

She felt her tongue moving, trying desperately, muttering words without sounds when the room started to move abruptly. Her body leaned forward closer to Matty’s. It was as if in any giving moment, her soul wanted to follow his. 

She heard Matty called her name before everything went black. 

Don't know why I tried

'Cause ain't nobody like you

Familiar disappointment every single time I do

Every single night my arms are not around you

My mind's still wrapped around you

The front of Matty’s door slammed, making him jump on his spot on the living’s room couch, thinking it was Denise ready to kick his ass for smoking inside or just smoking. His heart calmed down when his friend’s form appeared in front of his eyes. 

“Shit, dude! For a second, I th-” but his words died in his throat. Her face pale, wet and clearly upset, threw a dagger directly to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes everywhere except looking at his. She tried to dry the tears streaming down, but they kept coming down like a waterfall. Her name on his lips, pleading for her to let him in. 

“He doesn’t love me.” Matty’s friend didn’t have to say the name, he knew. Oh man, he hated the twat more than doing what his mother told him. She deserved so much better.

“Sweetheart.” the half smoked cig left on the ashtray, walking as fast as possible closer to her shrunken body. “Come here.” his closed accent comforting her more than she ever imagined. She let her hands grab his clothes hiding Matty’s back, hanging from there as if her life depended on that. He was there, pushed against her front. They fit, they were perfect…at least for her. 

Matty held his friend. One hand on the back of her head, scratching her soft hair; and his other, palming softly, rhythmically her back. “I’m here, I’m here.” he was, and it was everything she needed. 

Baby, tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin'

Baby, any time you're ready

I'm waitin'

Even ten years from now

If you haven't found somebody

I promise, I'll be around

Tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin'

“Do you ever think about marriage?” she blurbed out without thinking. 

Matty laughed out loud at her question. The rest of the guys left hours before, she was crushing at his for the night, so they chose to spend a few more hours drinking and sharing a joint. The boy took the burning stick from her hands, trying to figure out if she was being serious. She was.

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes fell on his face behind the cloud of smoke he exuded. “Do think you would marry…in the future?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause the band is my priority.”

“Yes, I know but-”

“I’m not thinking that far ahead.”

“Right.”

“I’d make you my best man, though.” Matty tried to joke, not being able to notice or sense her heart swell with the idea.

“I think smoking weed is making you blind.” she said, dry. “I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, I noticed…” Matty let his eyes wandered around her body lying down beside his. She should’ve felt heat under his gaze, but her skin was frozen. He was glancing at her like a piece of meat. She didn’t want that, she wanted more.

“Shut up.”

His eyes snapped back to life after a moment of being lost. He caught her eyes saying, “You’re my girl, you’re my man. You’re my everything. I love the guys but this…” his hand flying around their bodies. “This is different. I’m not sure if I can live without you.” she agreed in the same and such a different way.

“I’m not going anywhere…you are, rock star.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re coming with us. With me.” Matty let his hand extend to take hers, pushing it over his clothed heart. 

What if my dad is right

When he says that you're the one

No, I can't even argue

I won't even fight him on it

Call you when it's late

And I know that you're in bed

'Cause I'm three hours back

Seems like you're always six ahead

“Sweets.” his deep voice from across the room. 

“Yes, pops?” she walked closer, kneeling in front of his rocking chair. His face pale, losing all the colours life painted on his skin during the years. She wanted to cry, she didn’t let herself. 

His wrinkled hand finding the apple of her right cheek. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothin’ is, old man.”

“Your eyes are sad.” the affirmation took her aback hard. “What’s wrong?”

“I promise nothing is.” she took his hand between her owns. “I’m fine, you’re fine. We’re fine.” she laughed at her words nervously. 

“Where is the Elvis fan?”

She tried to keep her smile on her face when she asked, “Matty?”

“That one.” 

“He’s in Asia. Y’know, shows, tour, and everything a rock star does.” she said, standing up feeling his eyes on her face trying to read her. He was the only one with x-ray eyes. 

“He’s a good kid.” 

Matty would be stoked hearing her grandfather’s words. They were each other's fans. 

“Do you think he’s the one, sweets?” 

Her eyes shoot directly to his. The blue colour in them disappeared a little day by day, doctors said he was loosing his sight. Hard to believe when it was stronger than ever staring into her soul.

“What are you talkin’ about?” 

“He’s the one, isn’t he?”

“It’s- No, it’s- It’s not like that between us, okay?” she walked from side to side, trying to avoid the topic. The older man was wiser. 

“You want that. You love him.”

She chose to ignore him, giving him a simple explanation about starting lunch. The lingering sound of his knowing laugh following her around. 

*** 

Reading when your mind is full of feelings and worries is a difficult task to complete. She closed the book on her lap with a big huff. Her grandad was taking a nap, reason why she had enough time to let her thoughts invade her head. 

Her phone looking back at her a few meters away. She looked at it, resting her head on her palm. Her body pulled up from the porch’s stairs, walking anxiously around. ‘The old man is crazy’, she reasoned. ‘The sickness reached his brain’. 

Quickly as she stood up, the woman went to grab the device, tapping away until she was calling him. ‘He’ll see I’m not…Matty’s my friend.’, the repeated thought until Matty picked up with a sleepy voice.

“Missin’ me, sweetheart?” he said, making her heart explode. Shit.

“Not much as you.”

“How did you know?” Matty loved to teased her. Not expecting a real answer, he continued talking, “How’s he?” 

“Fuckin’ mental.” she pressed her foot hard into the grass like an angry kid. 

Don't know why I tried

'Cause ain't nobody like you

Familiar disappointment every single time I do

Every single night my arms are not around you

My mind's still wrapped around you

His concrete bunker hugging her. The house was quiet since she was the only one taking care of the place while he was away. She missed him, living inside his house for a few days wasn’t enough. 

Matty: Just landed. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart x 

She groaned at the screen. 

Baby, tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin'

Baby, any time you're ready

I'm waitin'

Even ten years from now

If you haven't found somebody

I promise, I'll be around

Tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin', yeah

“I asked her.”

He said just after she plopped down beside him on his fancy couch. 

“Ask who what?” she took a few chips from the pot. 

“I asked her…” he stressed the word more than she expected. “To marry me.”

Her heart skipped a few beets, her eyes wide. The chips got stucked on her throat, so she started coughing. Her body and soul drowning. 

Once she calmed down, after drinking half of her pint of beer, she exclaimed, “You did what?”

Matty laughed at her, thinking she was only surprised. He was surprised even. 

“I asked her to marry me. I'm finally going to make you my best man.” 

His words crushing her heart like it was nothing. 

“I- I- I don’t know what to say.” she looked at his eyes. He was happy and she wanted to die.

“Congratulations maybe?”

“Did she say yes?”

Matty scoffed, “Of course she said yes! It’s me!”

“Of course she said yes…” she repeated like a crazy woman. 

“Oh, c’mon! Be happy for me!” he urged her.

“I…” what could she do in a moment like that? Just lie. “I’m happy, Matty!” 

“Hug me!” 

“Is she really sure to marry a needy boy like you?” the only way out was a joke. 

“You think you’re so witty and funny.” Matty’s voice dripping sarcasm. “Close your mouth and hug me.”

And she did.

“I can’t believe it.” she whispered into his shoulder. The mix of cigarettes and his cologne taking over her senses. 

“Hey,” he moved back. “This…” Matty flew his hand between them. “This is not going away because I’m marrying her, okay?”

‘I’m sure everything is going to change’, she thought.

“I know, Matty.”

He brought her back into his chest, where she just wanted to stay forever. 

And if I have to, I'll wait forever (yeah)

Say the word and I'll change my plans

Yeah, you know that we fit together

I know your heart like the back of my hand

“Here you are.” she exclaimed after turning around the last corner of the fancy hotel. 

Matty didn’t move a muscle, smoking his cigarette, being unaware of his family and friends looking for the groom. 

“Here I am.” he hit a small stone with his shoe. 

She let all the anger left her body when she noticed his struggle. 

“Everything alright?” her voice cut the short silence that fell between them. 

“Yes. No. I don’t even know, sweetheart.” 

Her body moving closer, she couldn’t help it. “Matt-” 

“What if this is a mistake?”

“Matty.”

“What if marrying her tomorrow…it’s the biggest mistake of my life, and y’know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I can’t-” she watched him brush his hair back anxiously.

“Matthew.”

“Is this a mistake?” he looked at her. 

She had the answer ready at the tip of her tongue, she wanted to beg for him not to say ‘I do’. Selfishness wasn’t part of her list of characteristics. 

“Matty.” his hands were cold, the night air brought goosebumps to her skin. “Look at me.” she stood in front of him. “This is not a mistake. You love her, and she- she loves you.” the singer smile for the first time. “Even if this is a mistake, only time will tell. Do you want to marry her?” she dared to ask.

“Yes.” he muttered.

“Then that’s all that matters, Matty.”

“What would I do without you?” the lights outside reflecting on his beautiful eyes. They showed so much care for her. It warmed and crushed her beating heart.

“Survive. Now you’ll have a wife for all this.”

“No. This-” Matty went to move his hand, but she stopped him.

“Stop with that.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you’re…it’s not real, Matty.” her eyes look softly into his. 

He wanted to ask her, to protest even, although someone ran closer to them.

“Fuck me!” George swore behind them. “He’s here!” he shouted back to someone. 

So baby, tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin'

Baby, any time you're ready

I'm waitin', yeah

“Matthew, do you take…” the old man between the couple started to say. “To be your lawfully wedded wife? Do promise to love and cherish her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” he said, the whole church erupted into applauses as if they were one of the band’s crowd at a show. 

She didn’t feel like it was real. It was done. He was officially married to someone else, and she was going to witness his love from the side. Realization hit her.

Even ten years from now

If you haven't found somebody

I promise, I'll be around

Tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin', yeah

Baby, tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin', yeah

Baby, any time you're ready

I'm waitin', oh

Even ten years from now

If you haven't found somebody

I promise, I'll be around

Tell me when you're ready

She opened her eyes, staring at the white ceiling above her. The light was too bright, and her mouth felt like she swallowed a big chunk of ashes. 

Someone said her name, the sound silenced by her disoriented mind. Her head turned slowly, looking at Matty sitting on the floor. 

Her name on his lips once more. His lips moving, although the sound didn’t reach her ears. He pushed her hair to the side, furrowing his eyes…worried. 

“I’m fine.” she said. “What happened?” she tried to blink away the sickness taking over her body.

“You fainted, sweetheart.” 

Her eyes closed tight, cringing visibly, “Fuck.” 

“You almost gave me a heart attack, too.”

“Drama queen.”

“You fainted at my wedding, sweets.”

The nickname functioning as a calling for her eyes to return to Matty’s. He called her so many times ‘sweetheart’ she was used to it. On the other hand, no one except pops called her ‘sweets’. Her hearth swelling painfully, she lost every important man of her life. 

“Hey, hey…” Matty noticed the change on her factions. “It’s fine. We only care about you, nothing else.”

‘We, as him and her’, she reminded herself.

“I’m fine.” she tried to push her body up but the room was moving quicker, she had to lay down once more. Her eyes shielded from the outside world by her arm.

“No so fast.” Matty helped her. 

She supposed they were somewhere around the hotel. The party, his party. The weeding, Matty’s wedding at the other side of the closed door. 

“You should go, Matty.” he started protesting, even though she shushed him. “I’ll be fine. I promise I won’t move from here. I’ll call you if I need you, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” she was far from that. She wanted to keep him inside the room with her. “I’ll live. This is just another drunk story. Don’t worry.” the lies dropping faster than she could stop her mouth.

“I’ll come to check on you.”

“Fine.” she agreed, not really believing his words.

“See you in a bit, sweetheart.”

“Mhm.”

A tear rolled from her eyes after the door closed. She focused on it travelling down the side of her head, trying not to think or feel any more.

I'm waitin', I'm waitin' 

*********

[bruisedboys]

remus lupin who is a little bossy when you’re sick because he wants you to get better🤭🤭

bossy remus will be the death of me actually. I desperately need him to boss me around I’m so serious

summary: remus cancels plans and looks after you when you’re sick cw! throwing up / being sick (not very descriptive)

fem!reader 1.1k words

You’ve been feeling poorly all day. Nauseous and feverish and a little woozy. You think you ate something bad out with your friends last night. You’ve refused to let it affect you, though, because you and Remus have plans for dinner tonight, and you really really don’t want to cancel them.

It’s only when you’re bent over the toilet bowl, your eyes watering and your throat burning, that you accept that maybe you might be a little bit sick.

You hear Remus’ footsteps in the hallway and you know he’s heard you throwing up. He bangs on the door none too softly.

“Y/N?” He’s practically shouting. Panicked and about twice as loud as he usually talks. “Dove, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, though you really aren’t. Your breakfast came back up to haunt you and now it’s sitting in the toilet bowl. You refuse to look at it. You flush the toilet and heave yourself off the floor, legs shaky.

“Don’t lie,” Remus says bluntly. Then, softer, “I just heard you throw up, darling. Open the door, will you?”

You groan. Partly because he’s such a bossy boots. Mostly because you feel gross. “Give me a minute, Remus.”

You force yourself to the vanity to wash your hands and rinse out your mouth. You take your time doing so. Remus is antsy as ever by the time you finally open the door. You must look worse than you thought because his face goes from impatient to worried in about a millisecond.

“You’re sick,” he says, and he takes your face in his hands. His fingers feel icy cold on your hot skin. You suppose that’s a bad sign.

“I’m okay, Remus, really.” You’re far from okay. You’re dizzy and his touching isn’t helping. “I think it was just something I ate last night. I’m fine.”

Remus gives you this look that could probably set you on fire. “Stop being silly. You’re pale as death, baby. Come, lie down.”

He manhandles you to the bedroom and plants you on the bed. Pushes your shoulders down until your back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over you.

“Remus,” you whine, but it does feel pretty amazing to be lying down. You stop feeling so dizzy, at least. And your stomach stops churning. You want badly to surrender to the pull of the soft pillows. You also want badly to go out with Remus tonight.

Remus ignores your whining and sits down next to your hip. He leans over you, pushes your hair out of your face with a gentle hand and then takes one of your hands in both of his.

“You can’t go out tonight,” he says, and he at least sounds sympathetic. Like he’s delivering a death blow. It might as well be, to you.

You frown. “But we had plans,” you say uselessly. “I was excited.”

Remus softens. “Aw, honey, I know you were.” He steals one hand away to stroke down the side of your face with his knuckles. He’s gentler than he usually is. All soft and tender, his voice even softer. “But you’re too sick, sweetheart.”

You suddenly feel like crying. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re upset about the cancelled plans. Or because you feel gross. Or just because Remus is such a sweetheart. You suppose it’s a combination of all three.

“I hate being sick,” you say, and it comes out more pathetic than you’d meant. To your horror, a tear squeezes out of the corner of your eye, rolls down the side of your face onto Remus’ pillow.

Remus makes a pitying noise and twists around so he can face you properly. He bends at the waist to scoop you into his arms, lifting you off the bed a couple of inches to pull you into his chest, one arm bent at your upper back so he can hold your head up against his shoulder and the other circled around your waist.

“I know, honey,” he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently. “It sucks, hm? But we can go as soon as you’re better, I promise.”

Tears spill out of your eyes against your will and soak into Remus’ soft t-shirt. “I wanted to go tonight,” you say pathetically.

Remus sighs. All sympathetic and soft. You know you’re being a baby. At this point you want to be babied by him.

“Honey,” he says into your hair. “I don’t think you could hold down your dinner even if you wanted to.”

You know he’s right. You hate that he’s right. You grumble into his shoulder and try not to cry some more.

Eventually Remus calms you down enough to get you into your pyjamas. He sits you up and hands you your sleep shorts and one of his shirts but you’re weak and dizzy even when you’re only sitting down, so he resigns himself to dressing you. He tugs your uncomfortable work trousers down to your ankles and pulls them off. Helps you get your feet into your shorts and then shimmies them up your legs and over your hips. When he gets to unbuttoning your blouse you try to do it yourself but he swats your hands away.

“Don’t, angel,” he says, stern but soft. “I’ll do it.”

You can’t really say no to that. He unbuttons your blouse and folds it neatly on top of your pants. Pushes his arms around your back to undo the clasp on your bra, peeling it away from your chest. Any other time you’d be a little shy and a lot excited that he’s undressing you like this. That you’re bare-chested in his bed. But right now you just want to sleep. He helps you into his t-shirt and then grasps your shoulders to get you to lay back down.

“M’gonna get you some water,” he says, standing up and taking your work clothes with him. “Do you think you need a bucket?” He doesn’t give you any time to answer. “I’ll get one just in case.”

He disappears for a few minutes. You’re still upset about not being able to make it out tonight — but you’ll admit you’re feeling better now, especially with Remus looking after you so diligently. He returns with an empty container and a big bottle of cold water.

“Here, dove.” He holds out the bottle to you and makes you take a sip, sliding a hand under your head to help you lift it off the pillows. “I found some anti-nausea in the cabinet, did you want to take some?”

“Yeah, please.”

Remus pops the pills out of their packet and makes you take them right out of his hand. You swallow them with some more water and Remus smiles at you.

“Good girl,” he praises softly, his thumb dragging over the corner of your mouth where a drop of water is escaping.

Your stomach turns for reasons that have nothing to do with your being ill.

-

[eldritch-spouse]

An idea of mine-

Vesper's match, freshly turned concubine, thinks she can take on Kalymir and his dick (maybe she read Vesper's rating of him, maybe she just lusts the big red motherfucker <3), and gets overconfident.

She goes too far and realizes she made a mistake once she feels those spikes. The pain overwhelms them, and she is sobbing her eyes out, crying out for Vesper for help (maybe he is watching, maybe he isn't, whatever sounds better!). All it does is just make Kalymir more excited, more rough.

I hope this doesn't sound like too much-.

[Not at all, the blog warnings are there for a reason.]

TW: Noncon; Genital harm; Gore; Verbal degradation.

If it were possible for Kalymir to smile any wider, he'd have to split the muscles of his cheeks.

Seeing the fight leave your eyes, the defeat and panic washing over. That perfect moment where you turn into nothing more than slick prey speared on his dick. You call for Vesper the same way a wounded animal yips for its pack leader, like you're crying for mommy to come save you, and it gets him so hard he might just accidentally tear your poor cunt a bit more.

It's so hot that he lets you painfully squirm a few inches off his length, delightedly feeling his extended barbs drag on the soft walls of your pussy. Not even the whore's magic can save you from your own human weakness.

Then, chuckling, Kalymir grips the back of your knees hard enough to sink his claws into that tender meat, your shaky groan rising to a truly hellish shriek when he stabs you onto his throbbing cock and snarls his sick pleasure.

" AWW, DOES IT HURT? "

You spasm on the ground, outstretched hand still uselessly trying to pull the rest of you forward even as you lie there with bulged out eyes and a gaping mouth like a fish out of water, barely able to process the trauma your genitals are enduring.

The smell of blood hits Kalymir's nostrils and he moans, feeling it coat his girth, dripping to the floor and marking both your thighs.

Oh how he'd love to gut you right here right now, you're practically begging for it, crying like a baby on the ground- Putting you out of your shame would be mercy from his part.

You nod, because that's all you can do right now, and he barks out a cackle.

" GOOD. FEEL IT. FEEL WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ROACHES LIKE YOU GET COCKY. "

He thrusts, but really, it's more accurate to say he's stabbing you.

" YOU THINK YOU'RE ONE OF US- YOU THINK YOU CAN WALK IN HERE AND TOSS YOURSELF AT ME LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE. LOOK AT YOU NOW... "

The more he talks, the faster his pace gets, and you know the slapping ringing out isn't wetness, it's the crimson that's splattering on the walls. The smell of metal encompasses the room, and the burning of your tormented womanhood spreads to your limbs. Your stomach flips, and you wonder faintly if you're going to vomit from the pain. You dare not look down. Dare not guess the gore, the tissue hanging off your entrance that you feel loosely dangling.

Would Vesper be proud of you if you died this way?

Gathering what little composure you can scrap together, you try to utter his name again.

" DO YOU THINK YOUR STUPID SLUT IS GOING TO COME SAVE YOU? "

Yes, yes.

He needs to.

When you fail to respond, a heavy crimson paw grabs a fistful of your head and lifts it. You can barely gasp before he crashes it to the roughly tiled floor. It must have been the equivalent of a tap to him, but you feel a couple of teeth chip and your nose bending at an odd angle, foreign warmth spreading across your face.

" FUCK'S SAKE, IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T WANT TO LIVE. " He snorts. " ANSWER OR I'LL PANCAKE THE BRAINS OUT OF THAT WET PAPER SKULL. "

" Y... " You cough a mouthful of blood, disgusted when you feel him pulse inside you. " Y- Yesh... "

He stops then, figure shaking behind you as he holds something in. Kalymir bends further down, holding a palm to where his ear would be.

" NAH, YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME, WHAT WAS THAT? "

Exasperated, you sob. " Nnh... Yes! "

A fist slams right next to your head as Kalymir steadies himself and starts guffawing wildly at the impassioned response.

" OH YOU'RE PATHETIC- I ALMOST FEEL BAD! YOU TIGHT, DUMB FUCKING ANIMAL! "

The pain is starting to fade, as is your overall lower body sensation. He might have damaged important nerves, you can't tell anymore, it's increasingly hard to think when the world appears to be slowing down, and you can't muster the energy to react.

" DON'T PASS OUT JUST YET, BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW SOMETHING. "

You can feel the toothy grin against your scalp widen.

" YOUR DARLING DEGENERATE OF A KING IS GOING TO FIND ME USING YOUR BROKEN LITTLE BODY LIKE A COCKSLEEVE. AND INSTEAD OF HELPING YOU... "

The fist from before coils around the top of your neck, stealing the last bits of oxygen out of you.

" HE'S GOING TO STROKE HIS WORTHLESS COCKS UNTIL I COME IN YOUR GUTS. "

[loserdiaz]

buck/eddie | drabble | idk how many words i just wrote this and then here we are.

eddie's been agonizing about telling buck how he feels for weeks, he's been making this speech in his mind and changing it a thousand times. and it's not that he's scared or he's nervous (although he is a bit) bc he knows buck feels the same... he is 90% sure.

okay! fine! maybe 85% sure, whatever.

but! eddie is pretty sure it's mutual. it's just that there's a lot on the line, the risk is so high and everything needs to be perfect.

buck deserves perfect.

so anyway, the point it's been almost a month and he's had so many opportunities but somehow he always chickens out at the last second. the words stay lodged in his throat.

until one night he just blurts it out— they're in the kitchen, because of course they are, their most important moments always seem to happen there nowadays. and buck looks so beautiful, so... out of a dream, straight out of eddie's most secret fantasies. and buck turns around and he smiles at eddie, that lopsided kind of smirk that makes him feel things. what was he supposed to do?

the words come out before he can fully think about what he's doing. one minute they're just best friends, hanging out in the kitchen... and the next, eddie changes them forever.

he says the words and something shifts, something changes and he knows deep down there's not turning back.

they can go from there, right?

but then— buck doesn't react like he thought he would. and listen, in a perfect world buck would feel the same and he would beam at eddie and then he would lean in to kiss him. and yet, eddie would've still accepted buck letting him down gently. it would've hurt, but eddie could've take it.

none of those things happen, though. no.

instead, buck frowns at him and he takes a step back like eddie just physically slapped him in the face.

"what the hell, man?"

and then buck—

buck leaves. he walks away and eddie can only stand there in the middle of his kitchen with a million of questions haunting him and his heart broken to pieces on the floor.

in the thousands of scenarios he pictured in his head of how this would go, it never even crossed his mind that buck would react like this.

he never thought buck would leave him.

and you know what? fuck this, eddie won't let him do this.

-

by the time he arrives to buck's loft, the jeep is already parked and the man is nowhere in sight.

eddie spent the whole way here working himself up, thinking what he'll say to buck and now he's just so—angry.

and hurt, and sad and a lot of other emotions he doesn't want to unpack right now. so, we're going with angry.

when buck opens the door to his apartment, eddie charges in.

"what the fuck, buck? you can't just leave like that! and not when—"

"not when what, eddie?" buck slams the door closed and turns to him, matching his anger.

his blue eyes are dark, red and puffy around the edges like he's been crying, his hair looks disheveled like he's passed his fingers through it a thousand times and his cheeks are flushed a slight red. his jaw is locked and his shoulders are so tense, his posture is stiff...

buck is pissed.

and eddie doesn't get it.

"what the fuck? why are you mad at me?"

"because!" buck yells. "because you were mean and honestly eddie? it was unnecessary and i never thought—"

"you think my feelings for you are unnecessary?

"stop saying you have feelings for me!"

"but i do! what do you want me to say, buck? i do! i'm so in love with you it hurts, i'm so in love with you that it's a little pathetic sometimes." eddie groans, rubbings his hands over his face and then facing buck head on once again.

the blonde now looks more shocked than anything and he's blanking rapidly. "w-what? no, y-you're lying."

"why would i lie?"

"because it's april's fools and if you're playing some kind of cruel prank on me, i swear to god, eddie—"

horror dawns on him and eddie hates himself a little for not realizing it.

"buck—" he sighs.

"it's come too far, okay, man? ha ha i get it, now just—"

"i'm not pranking you!" eddie cuts him off, stepping closer and closer until their noses almost touch and their breath mix in the small space between them. "i'm not pranking you, okay? this is real. i'm sorry my timing made you think i was pranking you, but i'm not." eddie cups buck's cheek, his thumb ghosting softly over his birthmark above his eye. "i'm not, buck. please."

"you love me?"

"i do."

and then buck it's kissing him, hard and demanding but it quickly turns soft, and careful. exploring.

eddie makes a soft noise at the back of his throat and returns the kiss.

finally.

[ladylooch]

would love to read anything about Nico <33 I loveee the blurbs you’ve done w him already so similar vibes to those maybe??

thank you x

A/N: Thank you for asking for more of this! It has been a stressful first week of playoffs, so let's end it with some softness from What my World Spins Around AU. I know I posted for this AU earlier today, but I just really love these two. Thank you for encouraging me to write them.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Swearing, tears/angst, fluff.

I’m having a bad day.

A few minor disturbances happened earlier like half the grocery list being out of stock and having to make an extra trip to a different store. Then I needed to stop and get gas. I pulled up to an unmarked, broken pump, having to circle around multiple times to wait for a new one. On my way up to our apartment, one of the grocery bag handles broke and smashed our eggs into the elevator floor. None of these things are big problems, but enough little things have compounded into me feeling like I am inept at existing.

This is awful timing, I think as I stir the onions and garlic in pancetta fat. I’m making Cacio e Pepe for dinner tonight. Because I am desperate for comfort food and Nico is in-between games.

Of course this would happen in the middle of the Devils playoff series with the Rangers when Nico is so focused on hockey that I only exist when I speak directly to him. I glance over my shoulder at my fiancé. His eyebrows are drawn low while he looks at his iPad stacked with clips from the Rangers Power Play. I sniff a bit, wiping at my runny nose from the few tears that have sporadically leaked out while I’ve been at the stove. This catches Nico’s attention.

“Are you okay, babe?” He asks, pausing his video and drilling his brown eyes into me.

“Yeah, the onions made my eyes water.” I lie. These are small problems that I’m not going to bother him with.

“You need those goggles.” He jokes, starting the video up again. The lack of interaction makes my body sag glumly. I feel invisible to him.

I toss the cheese, pasta lemon juice and pasta water together. The dish comes together quickly. A few spritz of seasonings has us sitting down to eat within ten minutes. I grab my glass of red wine, sucking down two glugs of it before slowly twirling my pasta onto my fork. Nico has already been eating, watching the Carolina and Islanders game play out in the living room. I’m scrolling through Instagram, looking for something funny to lift this dark cloud.

“This is amazing, baby. Thank you.” Nico murmurs, running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. An insurance commercial plays out on the screen, so I’m getting his undivided attention.

“I’m glad you like it.” I respond, not looking up at him, but turning the app off to focus on dinner.

Nico stills with his fork close to his mouth, reading me like an open book. When I don’t meet his gaze, his fork continues to his lips. He chews slowly, then slides his bowl to the side. His hand comes across the counter, stilling mine from nudging my pasta around. 

“What’s up?” I shake my head. “No. What’s up.”

“It’s stupid.” I huff.

“I doubt that.”

“I’m just having a bad day.” I push out. My lip wobbles weakly, so I tuck it into my mouth and bite down hard.

“Were those real tears, not onion tears?” I nod my head as one spills from my lashes. “Sweets.” He sighs, scooting his chair closer to me. He encloses me in a warm, soft embrace. His designer sweatshirt is a thick, comfy fabric that brushes welcomingly against my skin. I slide my hands up his thighs to his back, clinging to him. 

I feel so dumb and dramatic. Nothing bad has even happened. Why do I feel this way?

“Will you talk to me?” He asks against my hair, breath tickling my scalp.

“There really isn’t anything to talk about.” I sniff, weaving my hand between our bodies to wipe at my eyes. 

“You’re crying.” He points out simply.

“I’m just being dramatic.”

“You’re rarely like this.” He shakes his head, pulling back to see my face. His thumb and pointer finger tilt my chin up.

“I don’t want to be a distraction to you. You have more important things to focus on than me.”

“What’s more important to me than you?” His hand sneaks beneath the hem of my t-shirt and rubs along the length of my spine. I say nothing, just stare at him with my red, tear-rimmed eyes. I shake my head. “Yeah, nothing.” He knows that’s not what I meant. “Come here.” His hands work themselves under my thighs to move me into his lap. I look down into his face. I raise my fingers to trace along his nose and cheek bones, purposefully avoiding those dewey brown eyes. “Baby.” He finally tires of my avoidance.

“I think I just miss you.” I finally bubble out, tucking my falling hair behind my ear.

“I’m right here.”

“You know you’re not.” He pauses, staring back at me with measured eyes. “It’s fine.” I try to walk it back. “I’m marrying the captain; I know what I signed up for.” My fingers reach out and fiddle with the strings of his hoodie, hanging down his chest. “I think I just want to go to bed.” Nico says nothing. He lets me crawl off his lap, hands falling to hang by his sides. I grab my phone, leaving my dishes and untouched food on the counter. I can feel his gaze burrowing into my back as I head to our bedroom.

Nico comes in after the Canes- Islanders game ends. 

“You’re not wrong.” He mumbles to me as he pulls his sweatshirt off his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, not really wanting to get into it. “Hey.” His tone softens further. “I love you even when hockey consumes every moment of our lives.”

“I know. I love you too.” I avoid his eyes, picking at a piece of loose skin by my thumb nail.

Nico comes to the end of the bed, crawling up my body so he lays completely on top of me. his weight smothers me into the bed. He wiggles his cheek between my breasts. Reaching to his right, he places my hand on top of his hair. I do my part, weaving my fingers into his hair, kneading his scalp.

“I know this is hard for you. Thank you.” I lace our other hands together, squeezing his fingers in acknowledgement.

We are quiet for a few minutes. I lean forward, pressing my lips to his head. Nico sighs, settling deeper into my chest, breathing light. Eventually, his soft snores begin to ripple my shirt. I wrap my leg around his body, letting my foot rest against his solid thigh. I close my eyes, ignoring the fact that the bedroom light is on. Nico feels so good right here in my arms, nothing could move me.

My lips spread into a coy smile, taking comfort in knowing I’m the only person in the world who gets to see him like this. 

[dreamersbcll]

“Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

- whumptober, no. 16

(hey. hey. don’t go where i can’t follow, okay?)

——————————————————————————-

When Tara dies, she hopes heaven is the beach. It’s the first time she's ever been. She is five, and the unrelenting waves knock her onto the warm sand. The ocean water is the only thing that has touched her without her permission.

She would dive into the water, giggling as it took her whichever way it desired. She would lay on her back and let her little body float into the ocean, letting the sunshine on her face.

If it were a perfect heaven, Sam would be with her. Her sister would be ten years old, taller than Tara, but strong enough to hold her above the waves. The two would dance through the water, splashing and giggling as their skin got kissed by the sun and the salt air filled their lungs.

There would be no screaming mothers or absent fathers. Tara would never know what it was like to be blessed by a blade, and her leg would never know what it was like to snap beneath her. There would be no more scars across her abdomen, no more asthma attacks wracking her lungs.

Tara would be young, untouched by life’s throes. She would be five years old and dancing through the waves with her big sister. Her skin may burn, and her hair may knot with the salt water, but she would still have Sam holding her hand and feeding her homemade sandwiches. Nothing would touch her.

But there was no such thing as a perfect heaven. And if there was, Tara wasn’t going there.

——

Sam is pretty sure that purgatory was sitting in the emergency room waiting room, listening to the bustle of a busy hospital. It was sitting in a plastic chair until her ass ached, her back stiff. Her legs bounced anxiously as she bit her nails down to nubs. Every few minutes, she smeared droplets of blood onto her jeans and continued tearing herself apart, piece by piece.

The stains didn’t matter. It would blend in with the blood she had smeared on her shirt. Tara’s blood. Sam didn’t realize how much blood was in a human body until she was trying to keep it inside of her baby sister.

It was all her fault. If she hadn’t picked up that extra shift last night, maybe, just maybe, Tara wouldn’t have been attacked. She knew the twins were out of town visiting their parents, and Kirby was busy on a case. It was a risk to leave Tara alone, knowing the monsters that lurked in their life. But what choice did she have? They needed the money for rent, and Tara was doing much better with being alone since New York. She had to make ends meet somehow.

And then the phone calls started. She was busy on the floor, serving upper-class cunts who would never know what it was like to be hunted for sport. Once Sam finally got to her phone in her locker, it was too little, too late. There were seventeen missed calls from Tara and a few from an unknown number. There, Sam knew what happened.

She doesn’t quite remember what happened next. One moment she was holding Tara’s lifeless body to her chest, screaming for help, blood soaking into her shirt. The next she was in the ambulance, holding Tara’s hand as the paramedics worked around her. And now, in the waiting room, waiting to see if she still had a baby sister to hold.

“Sam Carpenter?” called the ICU nurse, scanning the room.

Sam hopped to her feet, raising her hand like she was in school again. “Here, I’m here. Where’s Tara? Is she…?” she swallowed hard, refusing to say the words on her tongue.

The nurse nodded. “She’s in the ICU. Follow me.”

Sam followed the nurse, hands in her pocket, trying to remember what it felt like to breathe. She passed room by room, looking into rooms full of crying, stoic, and angry people. She doesn’t want to be one of them. But she could already feel the tears rising.

Finally the nurse stopped outside a closed door, gesturing for Sam to walk in.

Swallowing hard, Sam entered the room, gasping softly at the image in front of her.

Tara lay on the hospital bed, oxygen cannulas in her nose, her eyes closed. Fresh stitches were splayed across her cheek from the slash that cut her open from ear to nose. Her hands were laid across her abdomen, hiding the bulky bandages beneath.

What caught her eyes was how soft Tara looked despite the war she had sunk into. Her hair was spread across the pillow, her eyelashes fluttering with each breath she took.

Her little girl looked like an angel. And Sam wasn’t ready for that yet.

The sound of the door clicking shut woke Tara, her eyes opening slowly. At the sight of her big sister, Tara grinned, her eyes unfocused. “Sammy,” she breathed.

It took two steps for Sam to cross the room, collapsing into the chair next to the bed. She grasped one of Tara’s hands gently, caressing the scarred tissue.

She kissed the back of Tara’s hand, trying to swallow her tears. “Hi, baby. Hi honey. I’m here. I’m right here, she soothed, her voice wobbling.

Despite the tears that plagued her big sister’s voice, Tara kept smiling. She looked at her big sister with wondrous, dazed eyes, like Sam was the only thing she ever wanted to lay her eyes on.

“You’re here.”

Sam chuckled, the sound watery in her throat. “I am. I’m here. How are you, baby? How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

Her little sister just closed her eyes, smiling wide. “I’m floating,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you’re smiling so big?” Sam asked softly, trying to push the panic in her chest back down.

She’s never heard Tara this dazed, this far away before. Tara breathed hard but still looked so soft and gentle. But she wasn’t really here. She was drugged up, drifting away from her lifeline, but most importantly, Sam. She couldn’t let Tara leave. She wasn’t ready.

“I’ve never been this high before,” Tara whispered, grinning widely. As if they were kids again, sharing a bed, whispering secrets and sweet nothings to each other.

Sam swallowed hard. She needed to stay calm. This will get better. It had to. But she couldn’t freak out. Tara needed her.

“That's good, baby. I’m glad it doesn't hurt. I’m here, okay? I’ve got you.”

Tara nodded lethargically. “I saw heaven.”

The world stopped spinning, the air vanishing from the room. Sam could feel her heart in her shoes, her stomach flipping uncomfortably. That was the last thing she needed to hear, especially as she was fine and Tara was damaged. “What?”

“Angels are s’posed to fly, Sammy,” her little girl said, her eyes drifting from Sam’s like she was seeing something other than her big sister.

Sam reached over and gently grasped Tara’s chin, forcing her to look at her. “I know that, honey. But you have to stay here, on the ground, with me. You have to stay with me. You’re not an angel yet, got it?” she sternly said, her lower lip wobbling.

Tara hummed. “Angels are flying. I know what’s behind the door. I’m gonna fly.”

“No, you’re not. One day, maybe, but not today. You’re not going anywhere that I can’t follow. You’re staying. Say it back to me,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

Her little sister nodded slightly, her eyes drooping in exhaustion. “I’m tired.”

Nodding mechanically, Sam took a deep breath in. Her sister was exhausted. She would just fall asleep and come back like normal. “You can sleep, baby, but you don’t get to leave. You have to stay, okay? Do you hear me? You have to stay.”

“Okay, Sammy. Love you,” Tara mumbled, closing her eyes and promptly falling asleep.

Sam squeezed Tara’s hand hard, kissing the fingers that she held. “I love you, baby. So much. I’m here,” she whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Tara couldn’t see her cry, but now that she was sleeping, she could cry. Sam stayed like that, hunched over her little sister’s body, holding her hands tightly, tears spilling on the fingers she grasped. She tries to fight the animalistic urge to cover Tara, pick her up, and keep her close. But she doesn’t. She knows better than to disrupt the healing that had to happen.

She’s pretty sure that this is what hell is supposed to be. She is healthy and alive, watching her sister’s life slip through her fingers like sand on a beach.

At least the sand can stay on the beach. Once Tara leaves for good, Sam can’t follow.