#stop fucking going out when you’re sick unless it’s necessary

[snzluv3r]

i actually feel so incredibly uncomfortable and isolated in this space right now and i know that’s silly because of how many people there are just like me who share the same feelings but idk…the fact that people even think this is defensible behavior is making me feel sick

[bitchyycapricorn]

Warm Shower and Soft Kisses

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.3k

Synopsis: Peter takes care of you after you after you disappear for a week.

Warnings: Fluff!!, hurt/comfort, Peter taking care of his girl, Shower with Peter, technical nudity but no smut or descriptions.

AN: Can be imagined as any Peter, gif is just tasm. Lightly edited. Also I’m currently working on two requests so stay tuned <3

A chilly breeze rushes through your room, waking you from your slumber. Your eyes flutter open and lock on your open window that’s letting in the cold November breeze. “Fuck,” you mumble as you bury yourself deeper into your duvet, far too lazy to get up and actually shut the window. You’ve been like this for almost a week now, a lethargic shell of your former self hiding in your room away from the problems of the word.

You haven’t been up more than 10 times since it all started. You refuse to move unless you have to go to the bathroom, and even then you do that begrudgingly. On top of your refusal to move unless absolutely necessary, you find yourself calling out of work most days, unable to handle the thought of dealing with people. You’re also skipping classes and ignoring everyone’s attempts to contact you.

Your biggest issue at the current moment is Peter Parker, your boyfriend. He stops by your place at least twice a day since you disappearance. Your parents always sending him away per your request. You felt horrible for pushing Peter away, but you felt so sick and the thought of being with another person exhausts you. Your whole body was aching just from you laying silently below your covers after all.

Your quiet day comes to an end just as quickly as it starts when you hear Peter slipping through your window. “Y/N?” He whispers, approaching your shaking body that’s huddled under a pile of blankets. “Baby, what’s going on? Are you sick?” You feel him peeling the blankets off you, revealing just how horrible you look. Your eyes have heavy eye bag’s despite you sleeping most of your days, and it’s clear you haven’t showered since your disappearance.

When you look up you’re met with a face of concern. “Hi,” you say meekly. Your voice feels scratchy in your throat as you speak for the first time in a few days.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Peter presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “Sweetheart…”

You give Peter a small smile before feeling suddenly embarrassed, you can’t even remember at this point the last time you brushed your teeth. A frown settles on your face as you look up at Peter once more. “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” You whisper.

Peter frowns, stroking your cheek. “I can help you get a shower if you’d like baby?” You nod slowly, grateful for your boyfriends offer. You place your hand in his and allow him to lift you up and out of bed. You latch onto Peters arm the moment you stand up. It’s abundantly clear just how shaky your legs feel due to the lack of use.

Peter guides your wobbling body into your bathroom, turning on the lights and fan in the process. The bright lights are overwhelming as you sit on the bathroom sink, watching as Peter starts the shower for you. “Come on pretty girl, let’s get you cleaned up.” Peter smiles as he gently kisses your cheek.

You watch as Peter strips out of his clothes before helping you out of your own. The cool air sends a shiver down your spine. You take a moment to enjoy being out of your dirty cloths as Peter leads you under the warm water.

“Better?” He asks as he gently massages your scalp while placing kisses all over your face.

“Much,” you sigh, allowing your body to relax under his touch. You wait patiently as Peter lathers up his hands with Shampoo, just wanting to feel his hands in your hair again.

“Shall we get your hair washed m’lady?” Peters asks, not really waiting for a response since his fingers are already tangling in your hair before he finishes his sentence. You let out a small moan at the sensation of his fingers giving your scalp a deep massage. Every muscle in your body seems to let go in that moment, putting you into a state of calm.

Peter pulls away from your hair momentarily, lathering conditioner onto his hands before returning to your hair. “Thank you Peter,” you whisper softly, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles.

You allow yourself to soak up the sensation of being clean along with Peters gentle hands slowly rubbing the soap bar all over your body.

“You look so pretty right now, I hope you know that.” Peter coos, also enjoying the feeling of his hands gently lathering soap into your plush skin. He’s been worrying sick about you for essentially the last week. Since you didn’t return a single phone call and when he knocks on the door your mom always tells him you aren’t feeling well.

You’ve been on Peters mind since the day of your mini disappearance, making him feel sick and lonely without you at night. He was missing the sound of your voice, the way you giggle and laugh, your bright smile and witty jokes. He was missing every inch of you, and now that you’re finally back in his arms he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle having to go home again.

You were both so caught up in one another’s presence you only notice how long it’s been when the water starts to get cold. You both let out a small laugh, rinsing off before hopping out of the shower.

Peter helps to dry your shivering body, hoping to warm you up as quick as possible. You aid Peter in drying off as well, wanting to help him like he’s been helping you.

Peter ruffles your hair in the towel before wrapping it around you once again and making his way to your sink to grab a toothbrush. He quickly gets some toothpaste and wets the brush, helping to ease it in your mouth.

He didn’t question why you haven’t showered it brushed your teeth, rather he just silently helps you do so, sprinkling words of encouragement along the way. “You’re doing great sweetheart, you have such a pretty smile you know.” Peter says as he continues to help you brush your teeth.

Despite your exhaustion you find the energy to throw your arms around Peter, toothbrush still sticking out of your mouth. He lets out a small laugh, hugging you back and kissing all over your face.

“Come on, let’s finish brushing your teeth so I can kiss your pretty lips,” Peter urges, as he helps you finish up. Once your teeth are clean Peter makes sure to press five kisses to your lips immediately, savoring the feeling of your lips on his.

“I should probably get dressed before we keep kissing,” you tease, starting to feel like yourself again.

“Mhm, how about some warm fuzzy pajamas?” Peter offers as he leads you over to the closet. He shuffle through some options before setting on your red t-shirt and short pajama set. “This one’s my favorite on you, and I know you’ve said it’s the most comfortable.” Peter smiles as he helps you into your cloths. He shuffles through some of the cloths he left at your place, throwing on a pair of boxers before leading you over to your bed.

“Peter?” You whisper, looking up at your boyfriend as you sit on your bed.

“Yes baby?” He hums, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you cuddle me? Please?” You beg, craving Peters soft touch once again.

“Anything for you love, come on, crawl under the covers.” He replies as he helps you situate. He slowly pulls the covers up and around you both, holding you in his arms tightly.

“I love you Peter,” you say softly, feeling your eyes grow heavy once more.

“I love you too Y/N,” Peter hums, kissing your forehead one last time before you fall into a deep slumber.

+++

TAGLIST

[yourmomxx]

a pearl ⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: There were many things in life that Dean Winchester learned to regret. Taking the mark of Cain in order to kill Abbadon and save the world had not been one of them. Until everything just gets way too much for him to handle, and you are the one that has to burn in the crossfire.

Warnings: canon violence, blood, angst, spoilers but not really, moc!dean, swearing so if you’re the CW look away

Word Count: 2.6k

Flashbacks are written in italics

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAUGE

━━━ ❝ Iᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I fᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀ ❞ ━━━

Regret is a funny thing, somehow. At least I think so.

When you do something terrible, you can feel regret or remorse. So much, you get overwhelmed, forget to show it. So much you might start treating the people around you different.

“Sam?” Dean urged through the phone in a pressed voice. His breathing was ragged when he talked. “Sammy please, I need you to come here quick, something … something happened!”

“Dean it’s alright, calm down, where are you?” Immediately, Sam slapped his laptop closed.

Over the phone, he heard his brother stifle a sob. “I don’t … I don’t know Sammy, just please hurry, I-” His voice broke. “I think I fucked up, Sam, big time.”

“It’s alright Dean, just hang in there, I’ll come and get you.”

“Thanks.” Dean’s voice was small as he answered.

You can feel regret and decide that the outcome of the situation was worth it, and do it again.

When Sam arrived at the old warehouse and saw Dean, kneeling on the floor and covered in blood, he was worried.

You can feel regret, ask for redemption and forgiveness, but don’t get it.

As he let his gaze wander and it fell upon you, laying limb in Dean’s bloody arms, he was worried sick.

And even if you do get forgiven, who is to say that the guilt will stop haunting you?

“The doctors took her into surgery.” Sam carefully looked at his older brother, whose hands and shirt were still stained with your dried blood. “They said that she might not make it.”

“She will make it,” Dean said. The doctors were wrong, they are always wrong. They would be wrong this time, too.

Regret is buried deep in Dean Winchester. Rooted, even. He regrets many things. He was forgiven, then he was not, he pushed away the people around him in trying to not repeat his last mistakes, sometimes succeeded, sometimes he didn’t.

There were many things he felt guilty for. Too many, if you asked his brother Sam.

“What exactly happened in there, Dean?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. But that was a lie, because he did.

But he didn’t want to admit what he had done. Why he had done it. It turned his stomach around. There was a reason why Dean hadn’t looked Sam in the eye since he arrived.

He was sitting in your room again.

He was feeling regret about what happened. Again. He was doing that a lot, too, lately.

After the … incident, he mostly avoided talking to you. That had been just a few days ago.

He had even avoided seeing you since you returned to the Bunker, unless absolutely necessary.

Because just as he predicted, the doctors had turned out to be wrong: you had actually made it. After a light coma and a surgery, but you had made it.

When the nurse had told them you were free to go, Dean had been the one to bring you home. Still wrapped in the white clinical sheets and clothing that the nurses had given you, but he had brought you home.

So no, he hadn’t talked to you in days. Not seen you either, for that matter. Just cut you off like that.

And, to his genuine surprise, you had let him.

Normally, you would try everything in your power to talk to him, talk him out of his drowning thoughts, convince him that what had happened wasn’t his fault.

But not this time.

And that only substantiated his feeling that you truly hated him this time. Weren’t able to forgive him. And how could he blame you? He couldn’t even forgive himself.

But he missed you and it tore at him.

He missed the way that you would hold him when he ever so rarely let himself cry, and he missed the way your voice would whisper sweet words of reassurance in his ear in a low tone.

He missed your fingers gently scarding through his hair, and at his scalp, to soothe him.

He missed you humming the low tunes of some made-up song in the late evening, when you were laying in each other’s arms, right before falling asleep.

And he missed dancing with you. Just putting on whatever vinyl it was you could find in his room and then swaying to the sound of the music, wrapped around each other and being at peace, even if it was just for a few minutes.

He missed you so much.

On the shelf, leaned against the wall, the TV played some cheesy 80’s romance movie. It was the late night program.

Dean was tuning it out. He had stopped listening a long while ago, anyway.

No, his mind was playing a movie on its own. One that was specially designed for Dean Winchester. Written by Dean Winchester, starring Dean Winchester - and Y/N Y/L/N.

A tragic love story, with drama, hurt, betrayal, forgiveness.

In his mind, Dean could still feel the heavy weight of the blade resting in the palm of his hand. It hadn’t felt like this in the warehouse - or had it? He wasn’t sure.

Who was he lying to, it had felt light. Perfectly shaped for him, and him only. In that moment, everything had felt perfectly shaped.

It took the sound of the weapon driving through your skin and into your organs, that made him realize that nothing was perfect. Or carved out for him, that the blade wasn’t light but actually weighed too much to carry, that’s why he let it fall out of his hand and clatter to the ground, that’s why he rushed to your hurt body on the floor -

“Hey.”

Dean’s head shot up at the sound of your voice clear next to him, fast enough to probably break his neck.

He threw a quick glance at the door, then you again. “Hey,” he said back.

You stood awkwardly a few steps next to the bed, fumbling your fingers and trying to hold his gaze.

The only sound was the program still playing on the television and Dean decided that he should perhaps turn it off if he hoped for a conversation to start.

While he was fumbling for the remote, you turned your attention to the movie playing on the screen.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Sixteen Candles,” you said, and so you were the first to talk.

“I’m not.” He found the remote, and pressed the small red button to turn off the TV.

You put your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and slowly whipped back and forth on your feet.

Dean’s thoughts were short circuiting and he felt his heartbeat fasten. He tried to not look into your direction too much, and his eyes flickered back and forth between the many items in his room.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he realized that you had moved to sit down on the bed next to him. Funny, he hadn’t even felt the mattress dip.

Dean straightened his back and moved his knees closer together, to minimalize every possibility of you guys accidentally touching each other.

He hated that, so did you. But neither did anything to change it.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, indicating that you were meaning to start a conversation, but somehow, you said nothing. Just sat there, looking at him, brows furrowed in concern.

Every once in a while, your gaze would flicker around his room, unsure of what to do, and eventually land back on him again.

“We should probably talk.”

“About what?” Dean knew the words were nonsense as soon as they left his mouth. Of course he knew about what, but part of him didn’t want to realize that you were finally here for it.

“About what happened.” Your voice was strong as you said it. He admired you for it.

Tears were burning in his eyes, and God, how he hated himself for it, because he had cried enough that day.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. Your demeanor didn’t change.

“About what?” It was your turn to ask, your voice soft and silk and catching his fall. Dean almost laughed at you.

“What I did to you,” he sniffled, and shit, when did the tears start actually falling? He wiped them away aggressively. This is not at all how he figured this would go.

“Dean.” The feather light touch of your fingers on his naked skin made him turn. Goosebumps started rising where you touched him, your hand was so cold.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Now he was laughing. Bitter, biting and short, but it was a laugh. Unbelieving.

“Right. I was just the one that drove the Blade through your organs.”

You didn’t even flinch at his wording. Or the dark glare that followed after. Your eyes were so soft, and adoring, eyebrows scrunched together, and Dean knew he had never seen something as beautiful as the woman before him.

When you reached out to rest a hand on his cheek, he found himself leaning into your touch. Your fingers were still cold.

“Dean,” your voice barely above a whisper, and when had he closed his eyes?

“I know that wasn’t you. You were controlled by something so purely evil, that it was eating you up. You had no control over the things that you did. Look at me.”

Dean shifted his gaze. “I know you would never hurt me.”

And you said it with such force, and certainty, that Dean felt it practically piercing through him. His shoulders slumped, a hard breath left his mouth, and before he could register what happened, he was slumped against you, breathing in your warm scent of woods and perfume, and wrapped his arms around your torso to hold onto you for dear life.

He noticed your hands carefully scarding through his hair, and thought, that this was all he had been dreaming of for the past few days.

He loved you so much.

Minutes felt like hours, and those felt like seconds, as the two of you held each other, bathing in the other’s presence, warmth, comfort.

A pathetic whine almost left Dean’s throat as protest when you carefully pushed him off you, but he held it back.

He watched as you stood up, smooth and elegant, and walked over to a different corner of his room. Your steps were eaten by the carpeted floor.

Dean saw you take a vinyl from the shelf and carefully pull it out of the cover, laying it on the record player.

A crackling sound was the first thing to be heard, before the needle reached the engraved lines.

Then, the first tunes of Kitty Kallen’s It’s been a long long time sounded through the room.

You took a few steps closer to him, hips swaying lightly to the tune. Your arms were stretched out in an invitation, and at the sight of your joyous grin, Dean couldn’t do anything else than smile back.

He knew if it came to it, you could make entire armies fall knee to that smile.

He took your invitation to join you gladly. Your skin didn’t feel as cold against his anymore, though that could be only because his hands were warm.

The smile didn’t leave both of your lips as you dragged him closer.

And though he wasn’t inhaling, to Dean this felt like the first breath he had taken in days. Your lips were soft against his, and he felt feverish, in the best possible way one could do.

It was soft, and loving, and he adored it.

As you pulled away from him, you carefully nestled your head under his chin, resting right on top of his chest.

Absentmindedly, Dean closed his eyes, let the tunes of the song wash over him, and lazily swayed side to side with you in his arms. He was sure you could hear his heartbeat under his shirt. A heart that beat only for your love.

This was what his hands had been shaped to do, since the dawn of time. Not for the blood, or the murder, or the irrationality. No, for this right here, holding you close to him, his head on top of your hair and bodies pressed against each other as if it was the last time he would ever see you.

“Kiss me once,” you drew your head back from his chest, a mischievous glint in your eye, “Then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again.”

Dean smirked and raised his eyebrows. “You’re unreal.”

“I know.” You grinned and pressed a chaste kiss on his pink lips.

When you looked back at Dean, a soft grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked him reproachfully, but your playful undertones gave you away.

“I just love hearing you talk,” he admitted.

Then why did you kill her for it?

“Is that so?” you asked him teasingly.

I didn’t.

“Yes.”

Your smile was beaming up at him and filling him with the warmth of a million suns, and he suddenly didn’t know how he could believe that you would ever be able to hate him.

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, a kiss that said more than his words possibly could, and with a comfortable sigh, you snuggled into his chest and closed your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and never wanting to let you go.

He would never let you go.

—

The sound of the slow song carried through the hallways, a faint melody like the whispering breeze of a wind.

Sam Winchester heard its soothing tune from where he was standing in the library, next to him a black haired man in a trenchcoat, an angel, Castiel.

The pair was looking at the massive wooden table that the hunter and his brother often used to keep their research. Today, that table was empty, empty of books and laptops that was.

A bundle was laid on it, wrapped in white linen and laced up with split thread. Like a macabre package.

Sam felt sick, staring at the covered, dead body of another fallen friend. A sister to him. And to Dean … to Dean a lover. A rock. A spark of good in his sea of bad.

Sam still didn’t know what exactly had happened in the warehouse that night. All he knew was that Dean had his blood on your hands, in the literal sense of the word, and that his eyes had held a vacant expression.

He remembered the moment the doctor’s informed him about your death and how he had grieved you, and how he told Dean, but how it didn’t seem to get through to him.

He remembered Dean carrying your body out of the hospital, and retiring to his room the moment they had reached the bunker, and how he hadn’t come out since.

We need to bury her, Sam, Cas had said. It can’t go on like this.

Sam’s answer had always been the same. Let’s just give him more time.

But Sam knew that Castiel was right, there was no use to dragging this out any longer, and still, he hesitated.

No, he wouldn’t hold the funeral without Dean. And Dean was nowhere ready to attend a funeral.

“We should tell him,” said Cas. His gaze was fixed on the white bundle lying on the table.

Sam slowly nodded. “Yeah, we should.”

But neither of them moved an inch, not even as they heard Dean’s soft mumbles out of his room, while the slow record in the next room gently came to a harmonic end.

━━━━━━ ❝ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ❞ ━━━━━━

[eddiemunsonsbedroom]

Warnings: ex!Joel, angst, mentions of child death (not graphic), drinking, swearing. Implied reconciliation, humor but mostly angst and sadness, depression, metaphors on similes on metaphors.

A/N: Maybe the best thing I’ve ever written.

-

“Ding dong, dumb ass!” you shout while pushing the doorbell continuously.

When the curtain by the door twitches, an eye and glossy blond hair peeking out, your stomach drops before you snatch your composure back together, waving your fingers at her.

The door abruptly opens- the seal between the door making that shluck noise when the suction releases- and your eyes snap up, trying to make your face look casual in your drunkenness.

He’s looking at you, doing that concerned eye-scrunch thing that he does, with his mouth slightly open, like he’s truly surprised to see you drunk on his doorstep at 6pm. The funny part is that he doesn’t even look annoyed. His hair is slightly curling at his neck how you love, thinking about all of the times you’ve run your fingers through it-both thoughtfully while his head is in your lap, talking- and gripped tightly in pleasure. You almost crack, threatening to sober up and beg him to be with you again.

Until you see that he’s wearing his nice shirt that he only pulls out for special occasions, like a backyard wedding, or when Sarah graduated from high school, and you remember he’s got some blond woman on his couch.

“You dick,” you say, almost not even aware that you actually said it out loud until his eyes soften, appearing guilty for a moment until they sharpen into something else.

There it is. Annoyed.

You shove past him into the house before he even gets the wherewithal to grab your elbow to stop you.

Your eyes settle on the woman on the couch, who seems a little startled, trying to fix her mouth into a smile. It falls flat, looking more confused than anything.

“Hi-“ she starts, until Joel twists away from the door, shutting it a little harder than necessary.

And what did you think that you were going to do once you got here? You had no thoughts aside from just being drunk and wanting to see him and torture yourself some more. Like you aren’t doing that enough on your own- barely sleeping, watching the static on your ancient tv set. Daydreaming, thinking about how your father used to tell you that the tv used to go off the air at midnight- showing the American flag. Done. Like you and Joel.

What the fuck are you doing?

Joel says your name, having the audacity to sigh, like you’re being unreasonable. Which maybe you are. But he can’t act like you’re an inconvenience. He doesn’t have the right. He inconvenienced your whole life, like an employee who calls in sick before a morning shift. He left.

The woman on the couch has the nerve to look pitying, as if she’s thinking, “this woman, poor thing. Can smell the whiskey on her breath from here. Joel is so nice letting this woman into his home. I wonder if she has someone that we can call for her.”

“I had someone,” you’d say, “you’re sitting on his couch right now.”

Would he have answered the phone?

His says your name a little louder in question, bringing you back to his living room. His living room. Where it ended and she must’ve began. He’s in his “first date” shirt. Out with the old and in with the new. Unless it comes to that fucking shirt. The shirt is less replaceable than you are.

“How did you get here?” he grits out. You can’t tell if it’s in annoyance from your presence or the thought of you drunk driving. You took an Uber.

Instead you say, “Unicycle. My ex boyfriend was a clown.”

God, that was a good one. You hope that you remember it tomorrow.

He opens his mouth to respond, but Couch Woman speaks up again, “I’m Angie,”

“Uh huh,” you swivel back to Joel, “so you’re good enough for Andie here-“

“Angie,” she jumps in.

“yeah, Annie-“ you hiccup, “but not me?”

He looks like he wants to slip between the floor and melt into the soil deep under the house. Maybe grow a new Joel. One with a spine.

He doesn’t say anything. Angie’s eyebrows furrow into confusion, eyes flicking between me and Joel.

“Now, either you don’t care about being ‘good enough’ for Annie, or you’re a fucking liar.”

He’s still staring. Stone-faced. Even you can’t read his expression, and you were with him for a year.

“Isn’t that what you told me a month ago? When you broke up with me? That you weren’t good enough for me?”

He still doesn’t say a fucking thing.

You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve stayed at home, watching the static, too numb to get up and bang on the side of the tv, bringing it back to life, but somehow able to come to Joel. Maybe subconsciously- naively- thinking that he would do the same thing. Breathe that oxygen into you from the New Joel. The one under the house. The one with a spine.

But he didn’t exist until you came and confronted him.

Just like you didn’t exist before him.

“Are you guys…” the woman on the couch- the intruder that is too fucking nice, that you want to hate but can’t- trails off.

“Exes, yeah. I got the unicycle in the break up. He got the really long scarves. Judging from the look he’s giving me, I think they’re up his a-“

“Okay, well maybe I should go,” she says, polite as ever. The nerve of this woman. Can’t even call you a bitch or anything, even though you probably deserve it.

“No,” you say, “I’ll go,” crossing over the floor, wanting to trample any possible growth from the Joel Tree, wanting to wallow- wanting to be away from the Joel with a spine. Maybe he would reject you with the truth. Maybe you never really wanted the truth. The static is calling-

“Angie,” Joel speaks so suddenly when you start to pass, his deep voice breaking the silence again scaring you, “I think you should go. I’m-“

“It’s okay,” she says, not even annoyed. Just with the pity. She squeezes by you awkwardly, a tight smile that you turn your eyes down from in shame.

As they say their muffled goodbyes at the door, you take your flask from your pocket. You’re still drunk but you need to be numb again- downing the rest of the contents in several long pulls before you change your mind.

The door makes that airy suction noise and he’s behind you. You can feel his eyes on your neck.

“She seems nice,” you say, quietly. It sounds absurd as soon as it hits the air. What else can you say? Sorry? You’re not. Not really.

He takes the flask from your hand gently, and you feel so much lighter, like it was an anchor, only you think that it was weighing you down more than holding you in place. Holding you together.

You float over to the couch. The one you sat on nearly every night until last month. The spot warm, a reminder of who was here. You lay your head back, peeking at Joel, glassy eyes glinting in the low lamp light, thinking, I was the original woman on the couch. That was me.

He doesn’t tell you that he meant what he said. He isn’t good enough for you. How could he be? You’re everything. You deserve everything in return.

Sarah died after her graduation. Car accident. And such a waste. She was everything, too. She deserved everything- but instead she had it all taken away. He had it all taken away. So he pushed you away. He was too broken. And you were everything.

He can’t even tell you that she wasn’t even a date. She was a realtor.

He puts a blanket over your legs- going to sit in the armchair that’s facing you.

“Why couldn’t you love me, Joel?” you slur, head thrown back on the couch, eyes closed.

He pauses for a long time, wondering when he became so broken. Or was he always this way?

Even now, he can’t say the words. He wants to say the words. He wants to be everything.

He watches you sleep, hours later, thinking maybe he will say it when the sun rises.

And when it does, you say that you think Jackson is nice this time of year.

-

A/N (again): sorry the formatting is goofy, I wrote it in my notes app lol. Reblogs/likes/feedback appreciated. Xo

[pokemon-my-beloved]

so i played the dlc

and it was. alright? but while i was playing the teal mask, i was writing my thoughts down so i could make a little mini-review, and then i just. never posted it. so here i am now, with my thoughts from ALL of the dlc, but i have to separate it because i said. So Much. this post has teal mask stuff, i'll reblog with indigo disk thoughts

spoilers under the cut!

are my besties coming with me on this field trip. please please please

blueberry academy is in UNOVA????? holy shit i am IMMEDIATELY more interested and invested in the indigo disk

have my boy there. i am Manifesting him

listen briar i’m sure your intentions are pure and all probably but you can’t go into the great crater of paldea okay i say this as someone who has been there. leave my bestie alone

i don’t think my besties are coming with me :( one sec i gotta go say goodbye to them

okay nemona please try not to burn the academy to the ground, penny sunlight is necessary to your survival please leave your room at some point, mabosstiff please take care of arven while i’m gone

GOD i love these kids okay i’m going

i am. aware of the violet book. why

the paranormal???? oh so she’s a dork

and heath’s descendant alright that’s fine i’m no longer as concerned as I was before

OH MY GOD IS SHE SHOWING ME THE TERAPAGOS PAGE UNCENSORED????

SHE IS

i am…….. wary……. of terapagos, but continue

she wants to find it? bestie

okay so the other people on the trip are randos. three of them. this feels like salt in the wound, just a lil bit

this kid is NOT my “travel buddy” i have exactly ONE buddy and he is in paldea >:(

i’m not going to let that go i am NOT going to get over that

oh it’s my replacement besties or whatever. i’m not going to get as attached to them I’m saying this now because i know it to be true. unless these kids have daddy issues out the ass i will not get attached

okay so carmine is nemona 2 electric boogaloo except i like nemona more

sorry for continuing to play it up i just Love Them So Much

oh so we’re just going to. i was going to say block off the wholeass road but this is scarvi so. guess not

oh so this is just nemona if she was pacifica northwest huh

only one of them was giving me grief but i’m gonna hit yes anyways cause carmine is already getting on my nerves

man this is exactly what i said about arven huh. unless she pulls out a sick dog and daddy issues i’m not impressed and even then i'm not impressed cause like. quit copying homework from two characters who i already like more

mossui town is a very pokeani coded name i think

oh god which of these stupid fucking loser kids am i gonna be working with

nevermind it’s probably gonna be kieran

his hair is really fucking stupid I cannot see his nose at all it grates on me more the more I look at it. not what i would call good character design

hair’s not quite as egregious on carmine but still kind of a problem

WOAHHHHHH THE NURSE JOY RESDESIGN POG

this is literally jessie. like it’s just jessie i can’t fucking be convinced otherwise

i mean. define cool? but yeah sure this kid’s growing on me it’s cool

ohhhhh cool as in 3v1 cool. yeah alright that is cool

KIERAN NO WHY DID YOU SAY THE S-WORD

HOW DID YOU EVOLVE YOUR POKEMON SO FAST

probably because they were already like level 58 or whatever

okay so we are GUARANTEED going to get trapped in here or whatever since ogerpon was outside but i’m sure i can bust us out so i’m not really worried tbh

“you’re a sweet kid kieran” vs “wHEN CAN I MOVE IN” GHALKSJGKLASJGLKAJSG

yeah okay i’ll go to the festival of masks sure seems fun

ugh YOU

fuckin. i don’t get a mask i guess. absolutely fantastic (sarcastic)

yeah sure i’ll battle whatever

“stop using supereffective moves” she says, like that will stop me

oh is poltchageist/sistcha a divergent evolution of the polteageist line? nice!

ogerpon’s stUPID FUCKING PONCHO JAKSJKSJGLKSJG

“say chansey” is cute but i’m unsure why cheese wouldn’t work like cheese is very much in this game

oh, thank you for the candy apple kieran!

what the fuck does OUSTIN mean, game. that is NOT a word, what the fuck

wait. it is. fuck

what if i just. didn’t go after ogerpon AJKLGSJGLK

okay well i can’t leave the festival or do anything else IN the festival so

this bitch is GOING to punch me in the face i guarantee it jvaslkgjlags

apparently everyone just thinks its a kid. wild

oh that’s a cute cute CUTE face

ogerpon’s adorable. alright

I SOMEHOW DON’T THINK IT’S A KID, CARMINE

kieran i would NEVER make fun of you what the fuck

carmine you are SO mean all the time i feel like jet at the end of the sonic riders dub

oh did the loyal three attack and ogerpon defended the village. makes sense for pokemon tbh

“passed down by word of mouth” just write it down, man

OH SHIT THE MASKS HAVE TERASTAL GEMS IN THEM FUCK

i’m sorry kieran i was specifically instructed to lie to you okay listen

i guess i’m not going to the festival of masks tonight? damn okay then

okay yeah this is pretty as fuck but i’ve been to area zero and i did expect it to look like this, carmine

oh! a mitotic! hi! what the fuck!

well that’s convenient huh. i’m not getting in the fucking pool, i guess

oh briar hi! are these terastal crystals? cause i’m pretty sure they are

water? eh close enough

oh he’s gonna summon the loyal three isn’t he. that’s probably not good

kieran in our defense we were specifically instructed to not tell you this like did you miss that part i know you were eavesdropping

if nothing else it seems like he’s gaining some self confidence from all this it seems like

oh they were stuck in the monument? that’s… a bit weird, but i’m sure it’s fine

sure wish someone who could understand pokemon was here (hint hint) THAT SURE WOULD BE HELPFUL HUH (HINT HINT)

sorry i just. i Miss him

guess i’ve gotta fight the loyal three now. bet

ooh triple battle?

nevermind. this blows

you’re trying to recreate the crater crew and it isn’t working i’m not as attached to these two

oh i just noticed that the flying taxi has noctowls instead of squakabilly in kitakami that’s cool!

ogerpon was running in lil circles around me while i wrote that this bitch cute as hell

sorry for having protagonist syndrome kieran

HE GOT SO BIG

oh god HE ATE THE HERBA MYSTICA NOOOOOO adhsfjhfsfh

ogerpon cheering us on is adorable, oh my god

oh did kieran tell the village the truth i’m pretty sure he did

yup he did

i think this battle with kieran is the last of the story

oh damn he just COLLAPSED

okay do i battle ogerpon or does he just get in a ball

battle it is ig!

oh its poncho changes with its mask thats cool!

OH FUCK HE TERASTILLIZES WITH HIS MASKS JUST AUTOMATICALLY

“memories of adventuring with you grant ogerpon strength” THAT’S CUTE AS HELL WHAT THE FUCK

“memories of a partner from long long ago grant ogerpon strength” HEY WHAT THE FUCK OW

OH SHE’S A GIRL SHIT SORRY OGERPON DIDN’T MEAN TO MISGENDER YOU

her name WAS gonna be kieran but change of plans this is majora now

majora might be a guy actually i do not have a clue. i’m sure it’s fine

again. sorry for having protagonist syndrome kieran but i can’t do shit about it

carmine my home is in another country i understand what you’re going for but i live in paldea

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN THE GREAT CRATER. I’M GOING HOME FUCK ALL OF YOU

kieran what the FUCK is happening bud

oh god he’s pulling a paulo from pokemas isn’t he goddammit

did terapagos get to him. is he gonna get professor turo’d

guess that’s it! i’ll be back for this shit when the indigo disk drops ig

[apathetic-dry-rot]

Wilting Nerium- Chapter 4: Kill Bill

CW: Mental Breakdown/Panic Attack, Marijuana Usage, Gun Purchasing.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the content in this fanfic or game in real life!

Lawrence Oleander belongs to Gatobob

NOW PLAYING: Kill Bill- SZA

It was a slow day at the reserve, our last three stags all accounted for, their does and fawns following behind them. Milo’s mate had passed on due to grief, the pair unable to have conceived any offspring before Milo’s death.

Most of our visitors were traveling families, or weathered retired folk who wanted the silence of nature. There was the occasional school field trip, too, but I never really stayed around for those unless absolutely necessary, I stuck to monitoring the animals.

It was 4:50 in the afternoon, and I was packing up the last of my things when the bell on the visitor’s center’s front desk chimed. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.

I just wanna go the fuck home, come on, are you serious right now?

“One second!”

I took a deep breath before walking out to the desk, putting on my best customer service smile. This was usually Lola’s job, but she was sick, so I had to cover for her.

“Thank you for visiting the St. Lawrence River Nature Sanctuary, what can I help you with today?”

I took in the appearances of the two girls in front of me.

One had her hair in a braid, falling over her right shoulder, with a yellow tank top that brought out the yellow highlights in her baby blue eyes, while the other girl’s matching blonde hair was falling loose around her shoulder, rectangular glasses perched on her nose, and a loose short-sleeved blue flannel hung on her slim frame.

Probably twins.

The braided one smiled at me kindly, her eyes scrunching up.

“Hi! Um, my sister Laurel and I were wanting to enroll in the volunteer program? We tried to come in yesterday but you guys were already closed.”

“Uh, yeah sure, um…”

I began hunting for the applications, Lola’s organizational skills being questionable at best.

After a few moments, and ruffling through a multitude of drawers, I pulled out the applications and a sign-in sheet.

“In, uh, In addition to the applications, I’m gon- ‘scuse me, gonna need your names on this sign-in sheet so the actual front desk person knows you stopped in today, I’m covering her position.”

The one with glasses- Laurel, nodded, while the braided one spoke up again, reaching for the sign-in sheet.

“Oh, yeah no problem!”

She scribbled something down, passed it to her sister, who did more of a scrawl, before passing it back to me. I set the sheet down on the desk, wiping my hands together awkwardly.

“So, um, when you guys are done, just, uh, just ring the bell and I’ll come get the applications.”

I gave them my name, and told them to holler if they needed anything, not missing the way their eyes lit up with recognition, looking between themselves and back at me with a look of heavy sympathy.

No, not sympathy, it was pity. Fuck. Here comes the spiel.

“You’re the one from the news, right?”

I cleared my throat, nodding, having my response ready.

I don’t remember anything after leaving the Jackalope until I woke up in the woods.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, that’d be me.”

I let out a half-hearted awkward chuckle, shifting back and forth on my feet.

The pair looked at each other again, then back at me.

“And you really don’t remember anything?”

I cleared my throat, scratching at my scalp impulsively.

“I mean, I remember blacking out in an alley after some guy swung at me, and I remember pain… a lot of it. But other than that, no. Not a thing. Woke up in the woods tied to a tree and left for dead.”

They looked at me with varied degrees of horror on their faces, Laurel speaking up in a hushed tone.

“So, the cops literally can’t do anything?”

I shook my head no, watching as their expressions fell into shock and disbelief.

“That’s such bullshit! It’s incredibly unfair, shouldn’t they at least be trying to find anything?”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“All they were able to do was I-D the guy that swung on me, but they were never able to track him down, so they gave up.”

“Oh my god, that’s awful.”

I shrugged, indifferent.

“That’s the way the police system is. Nothing I can really do about it.”

Lie.

The girls exchanged sympathy with me before finishing their applications and leaving with enthusiastic goodbyes.

I went back to grab my bag, stopping at the front desk to organize Lily and Laurel’s papers before I locked up. The papers crinkled in my hands and I froze at the names on the papers, my breath catching in my throat.

Lily and Laurel Oleander.

The venture home was a haze, people blurring together and time feeling nonexistent as I meandered through the streets to my flat, locking the door behind me as the dust settled. I leaned back into the door with a heavy sigh, sinking to the floor and curling into a ball. The sun was setting as I sat there for what felt like ages, my eyes unfocused and hot tears slowly dripping down the apples of my cheeks and off my chin.

I didn’t move until it was almost completely dark, standing up on trembling legs and opening a small drawer in my desk where I kept a sparse collection of pre-rolled joints that I had made shortly after the party, reaching in and grabbing a random one and a green lighter, sinking onto my bed and lifting the joint to my lips and lighting the end.

I just want it all to stop. The thoughts, the fear, the anxiety, everything.

After a few minutes of smoking, time seemed to fuzz in a more positive way as my brain was enveloped in a dream-like haze.

After the joint was done I grabbed my keys and wallet, and once again left my apartment into the near empty streets.

Winter seemed like a blessing, the people clear out earlier, when the sun goes away.

I wandered for a bit, finding myself in a slightly more populated area of the town where some stores and antique shops were nestled in a sort of strip mall.

I’d kill for a burrito right about now.

Hungrily, my eyes scanned the area, a scarce amount of food trucks remaining. I zeroed in on my target- a random Mexican truck.

Fucking bingo.

A few short minutes, and $12.79 later, I found myself on a bench with the most mouth-watering, greasy, divine burrito I’d ever laid eyes on in my hand. I took a bite and nearly moaned, grease from the ground beef and sour cream falling onto my face.

This is the best burrito I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life.

It felt like nearly instantly that I had scarfed the tiny piece of heaven down and wiped my face clean, the weed haze dimming slightly, as I took another look at my surroundings. There was only one store that was left open that caught my eye.

Tom’s Gun and Pawn Shoppe.

I slammed the door to my apartment shut, hinges crying as I walked over to my desk, setting down my personal belongings and the brown paper bag onto the faux wooden surface. Plopping into the chair, I sighed, rubbing my face before holding my hand on my mouth, staring at the bag in front of me. Slowly, and as if on their own, my hands reached in and wrapped around the two items inside, the box in my right hand making a small jingle sort of clinking noise as I moved it around and held the two items in my hands. I paid no mind to the box and dropped it gently onto the desk before cradling the other, significantly more important item, in my hands as I contemplated if what I was doing was even considered to be in sound mind.

A Beretta 96.

Word Count: 1323

[killerandhealerqueen]

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

3. how you feel about your current WIP

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

7. your preferred writing fonts

10. what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

9. start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

13. a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

20. in what year did you publish your first fic?

26. are you able to write with other people around?

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

23. pick three keywords that describe your writing

17. talk about your writing and editing process

16. favorite place to write

💖💖💖💖💖

Jaz my beloved, hello!

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

I normally write from an "omniscient" view point, so I don't really use like "character povs"

3. how you feel about your current WIP

Currently I'm working on my rewrite and I forgot how much I loved working on it. We are on ep. 27 though, which means we're getting to the mental hospital scene soon so that'll be fun. But I forgot how much fun it is to write it as well as liveblog/rewatch. God I love this stupid drama so damn much

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

The only unpublished wip I have rn has a lot of dialogue and not so much paragraphs...but this is the closest "paragraph" I could find

         “You’re right, I’m not” he agreed, just as Chen Yuzhi tripped over a rock and fell, causing him to cry out in pain before he rolled over to see the wolf coming straight towards him, its teeth barred. 

7. your preferred writing fonts

For headcanons, Times New Roman, size 12, for actual fic writing Helvetica size 11

9. start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

Hmm...last fic I posted (not updated cuz updated was 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer) was Second Chances. That fic, from start to finish...took me about...maybe 3-5 days?

10. what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

Hmmm...good question. Maybe a few days...but it's very rare, unless a fic is fighting with me too much. I mainly work on the draft until it's done and then I post it (but I of course go over it one more time before I actually post, just to make sure I didn't misspell or forgot a word or something)

13. a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

Currently really only writing for CSI: Miami (trying to finish my multi-chapter fic, we're almost done), Killer and Healer, and S.C.I. I do have one more fic to post for White Cat Legend but other than that...I'm not really planning on writing for any new fandoms

16. favorite place to write

Either in my armchair by the window or in my bed. I can control the noise at home, so it makes it easy, and I don't have to worry about people trying to read my laptop screen

17. talk about your writing and editing process

Oof...there's not much to talk about. I get the idea, let it ruminate in my head, kind of start seeing scenes play out in my head/in dreams and then I just sort of...write. I've stopped trying to outline stuff because that just seems to fuck with my flow, so we don't do that anymore. But anyways, I just write until I'm content/I've told the story I want to tell, I'll bring up the "post a new work" page on ao3, type out all the necessary information, past the fic into the box, then copy and paste it into my notes app (cuz sometimes the formating from copying it from word to ao3 fucks up my indents) and then do a quick re-read/edit if I miss stuff and then I post. The only time I'll ever send a fic to someone (aka @ahhhnorealnamesallowed) is when I need a second pair of eyes/I'm sick of the fic but other than that...that's kinda how my process works

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

Oh, if you've read my fics you know that I research a lot of stuff for anything regarding my case fics, but I think the most interesting one is for my fic Violence Is Never the Answer...Except When It Is where I researched step by step instructions on how to clean a katana. There's never a dull moment in my fics, I promise you that, but that one was probably really interesting...and really in-depth

20. in what year did you publish your first fic?

Lord...like 2012? It was a fic that I wrote for a Kakavege fanart that I saw on Deviantart. I loved it and then messaged the artist if I could write a fic for it. They said yes and even linked it to their art. My deviantart account has since been deleted but that was definitely my first like true fanfic

23. pick three keywords that describe your writing

I have no idea how to describe my writing...other than maybe out there, fantastical, exciting?

Idk Jaz, how would you describe my writing?

26. are you able to write with other people around?

Oh yeah, as long as they don't ask what I'm working on nor do they look at my laptop

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

Now...we all know that I'm very proud of 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer (and really, I should be) but I'm also really proud of For All Eternity because I flipped what I normally would do for Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi when writing xianxias/wuxias (I made Jiang Yuelou the immortal this time while Chen Yuzhi is the demon instead of the other way around) and yet I STILL kept them true to their personalities. So...yeah. I'm really happy with that fic and I hope more people read it because it's good (it's also inspired by Chinese Paladin 4 which was Mao's latest drama and my god was he gorgeous in that drama. He was also my favorite character but no one is surprised by this at all)

more fic writer asks | send me asks

[simplyotometrash]

Could I request hcs of the brothers reacting to MC asking them to lay on top of them. It’s just sometimes really comforting to have the weight of someone else on me.

I love your writing and I hope life is getting better for you! 💕

MC Asking The Brothers to Lay on Top of Them

Lucifer:

“What?”

You sprung the question on him while he was working on paperwork late at night.

“I just...well...”

“MC, please say what you wish to say. It’s late.” He rubbed his temples but there wasn’t even a hint of frustration or irritation in his voice. He sounded tired but nothing but kindness was direct at you.

“You’ve been working a lot more lately and I’ve been having trouble sleeping and, well, it’s really comforting to feel someone else’s weight.”

The blush on your face made him smile. 

How could he say no to such a face? 

He couldn’t

He turned out his light, now the room dimly illuminated by what light flitted in through the window.

“Well, my dear, your wish is my command. If you’ve been struggling to sleep, you should have said so sooner.”

He was careful when laying on top of you but found a comfortable way to lay soon enough.

It was odd, as usually, you would end up fast asleep on top of him. But he couldn’t deny it also felt nice.

“I suppose I could do this for you more often. All you need to do is is ask me.”

Mammon:

It was the middle of the night. The only reason you even bothered to ask him was because Mammon wasn’t snoring up a storm.

So you knew he wasn’t sleeping.

“W-what? Lay on top of ya? Is this some new kink ya found?”

Of course, you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.

You could feel how hot his face was. You loved how easily embarrassed your tsundere was.

“No, silly! Sometimes it’s just nice to have weight on top of me in bed. It helps me feel better and safer.”

Immediately rolls the two of you over to lay on you. You can feel his skin get even hotter against yours.

“D-don’t go makin’ a habit outta this, ya hear? I love ya and all but the Great Mammon ain’t yer weighted blanket!”

Says not to make a habit of it.

He’s the one to make the habit.

Him laying on top of you becomes the norm when you guys get ready for bed. 

There’s something about it that makes him feel...small. But not in a bad way.

It’s like when he is the little spoon.

He feels protected and loved. Nothing can touch him.

But also nothing can get to you without going through him first.

And that makes him feel like he’s protecting his human, even while they sleep.

Levi:

Leviathan.exe has stopped working

System reboot needed

His face is so hot and red you could fry an egg!

“M-MC! Are you sure? I’m a gross otaku, I might not be very comfy to sleep under! A-and I have a weighted blanket, we can use that instead-”

“No, Levi, I want you to lay on me. If you’re okay with that. I liked weighted blankets but it is different when it’s another person.”

It takes some calming down before he goes for it.

And boy oh boy does he like it.

It’s not the most comfortable in his bathtub, though. He knows it’s gotta hurt your back.

So he plushes out his bathtub for sleeping to make it less hard and ensure your back will never hurt!

Besides, laying like that makes it way easier to actually lay together in his tub anyway. It’s such a narrow space.

Sometimes he asks if you can sleep on him instead and instantly understands the comfort it brings you.

Even when it becomes standard practice and asking isn’t needed, Levi’s face is always going to be bright red until he gets settled in for the night.

It also helps force him into a sleep schedule because he loves it so much.

Yeah, he’s okay with this. More than okay.

Satan:

Very little reaction from Satan.

He read about this kind of thing before. He was kinda wanting to ask you to lay on him but you beat him to the punch. 

Mostly because he wanted to test it out.

“Of course I will. If it helps you, I’ll never say no to it.”

The biggest downside of being the one laying on top?

He can’t read to you very easily.

Satan loves reading to you at night, it helps the both of you wind down.

That’s okay, though. He memorizes plenty of stories to tell for the nights that he lays on top of you.

And he has books ready for the nights where the two of you switch.

He has no qualms with this. It actually feels really nice.

He can understand the comfort it brings.

Satan has never felt so warm and calm in his entire life. 

But there will always be nights where he’s likely not going to be there when you go to sleep. So he invents in a heated and weighted blanket. He makes sure that he sleeps with it on him enough to the point it smells of him.

If it can help, even just a little bit, he’s happy.

The sweet boy just wants to do his best for you. He hates when he isn’t there for bed but sometimes it just cannot be helped.

Asmo

No explanation needed with him.

“Of course I will! I’ve been wondering what it’s like to lay on top of you anyway! You’re always laying on me when we sleep or cuddle!”

This man just adores it.

And he’s the smallest of the brothers so he definitely won’t be crushing you under his weight.

He likes it! It feels like he’s being pampered!

It gives you a great chance to play with his hair and he gets to just bury his face against the side of your neck or against your chest.

He actually likes it more when he’s on top of you. Especially when he’s had a bad day.

It makes you feel better and it helps him feel comforted after a long, awful day.

He feels like it’s his sanctuary almost. 

Nothing can touch him but you.

This is completely innocent. He might make suggestive comments but this little habit you two have won’t be tainted.

Unless you’re the one to start it. 

seriously this is just being said because i’m sick of everyone writing asmo as horny 24/7 and nothing else :))))

Beel:

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

You gotta understand, this is gonna take A LOT of time and working up to get him to even attempt this.

Even then, he will never lay fully on top of you.

The most you’ll get is gonna be him resting between your legs with his head on your chest.

Beel won’t budge on this either.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m a big guy, I weigh a lot.”

All of that muscle comes with him being pretty heavy. Also, he’s somewhere over six feet fucking tall, he’s a very physically dense boi.

He will do what he can to help you but nothing will convince him to ever put more weight than necessary on you.

And even then, he doesn’t sleep too well if this goes on overnight because he’s just so worried about accidentally crushing you in his sleep.

I mean, it took a long time to get him to share a bed with you! And he’s still afraid he might roll over and crush you in his sleep!

Just take what you can get. He’s trying his best, he’s just scared.

He’s beefy and sweet and personally would rather you be laying on him where he feels a little more secure in your safety.

When he’s having a day where he just can’t do it, he gives you his jacket.

It’s heavy and warm and smells just like him. It should help, right? 

Asmo said it would be a good alternative so he tries it.

Plus he gets to see you drowning in the fabric of his jacket because no matter how tall you are, his jacket will make you feel small.

The damn thing is baggy even on him!

Belphie:

Pffft

You never even needed to ask him.

You think you got a choice in this one?

Belphie will lay on top of you just because it means you can’t go anywhere unless you can get him to move.

Which means keeping his warm cuddle partner in bed all day.

So words aren’t needed here.

But you do explain it to him one day while you’re just snuggled in bed together. 

“Huh. Makes sense to me.”

He’s so nonchalant about it. But he understands that someone else’s weight can be comforting.

Why do you think he sometimes pulls you on top of him to lay? 

He takes comfort in it. Your warmth and heartbeat and weight remind him that you’re real. You’re alive. And you won’t be leaving him.

Of course, you’ll still be trapped by the Avatar of Sloth so you better eat and take a bathroom break BEFORE you head to the attic or to his room. 

You won’t be moving until he wakes up.

Sometimes you swear he’s not even asleep based on the cheeky smile etched across his face.

You’ll take it, though. It brings both of you comfort

[earlgreydream]

abandoned.

| zemo x reader | smut |

dark!zemo

cw: highly dubcon (kinda noncon), abduction, mentions of torture, forced breeding, dark!zemo, lactation kink

“You think you’re something, no?” The mocking laughter was dripping in cruelty.

You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood. Your eyes stayed trained on a crack in the floor a few feet ahead of where you were kneeling on cold cement.

You didn’t react when a hand cracked across your face, knocking you to the side, trying to pull an answer out of you.

“They’ll come for me. The avengers won’t leave me, they’ll come back for me!” You spat, looking up into cold brown eyes. They were empty, soulless in fact. His gaze iced your soul, sending a chill down your spine.

“My darling, not even god himself can save you now,” he sneered.

“Fuck. You.”

“You’ll join us, Y/N. You’ll become well acquainted with your villains when you realize there’s no other option.”

You should your head, screaming against the gag that was shoved in your mouth, silencing your vengeful yells.

. . .

Months. You had been abandoned for months.

After being abducted on a mission in Sokovia, your team had never returned for you. Or if they had, they never found you.

You’d been locked in a cold, cement chamber. You were left alone, only fed and given water as little as necessary.

Helmut Zemo was determined to break you.

. . .

Three months later, the door opened, light pouring onto the cement floor.

“Submit to me, and I’ll let you out of this cage,” Zemo knelt down, his thin lips curving into a lopsided smile.

“You’ve spent months here in this filth. Don’t you want to be cleaned up and fed and doted on? You are so pointlessly resistant.”

“Please get me out of here,” you begged weakly.

All of your resolve had crumbled. Your team never saved you, and you were all out of options. The only thing standing between you and getting out of this cell was your own stubbornness, and you were ready to give it up.

You felt like your mind was fracturing, and you were left numb, pliant for the sadistic baron. You decided you didn’t care what “submit to me” meant— as anything would be better than your current situation.

A leather-gloved hand was held out to you as chains were removed from your wrists. You hesitated before taking it, letting the baron pull you to your feet.

That was the first time you realized how much bigger Zemo was than you. He was tall, broad, and strong, with a dominating presence that overpowered you.

And cold, empty eyes.

. . .

You didn’t know which was worse: being in a solitary dark cell, or being Zemo’s toy, decorated and attached to his side like a pet.

You’d gotten so used to the feeling of his hands on your body, you almost craved it. You were starved for affection, for touch, for interaction, and Zemo was the one satiating your needs.

“Come here, little one.” 

You rose from your seat on the chair in the corner, approaching Zemo. He was lounging on his bed in a white bathrobe, an arm tucked behind his bed. The baron watched you walk over to him, having no reason to disobey. You’d abandoned all of your resolve, and you went to his side when asked. 

If you behaved, he didn’t torture you. You’d learned after your first attempted escape, you were far better off just doing as he asked. When you obeyed Zemo, you were awarded the liberty of being dressed and fed, and he wasn’t violent with you. 

You flinched when he reached up and touched your face, turning your head away. 

“Get on the bed.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, opening your eyes to look at your captor. 

“Get in the bed on your own, or I will force you.”

You crawled onto the mattress, letting him push you onto your back. It seemed to appease him a bit, because he lifted your hips and put a pillow under you, carefully smoothing his hands up your legs. 

“Aren’t you going to get a condom?” you asked weakly as he dropped his robe and pulled your knees apart. You’d stopped resisting, looking up at the blond in concern.

“No, my darling, I’m going to breed this little body of yours, and let you carry my heir,” he said, making your body feel frozen. You couldn’t swallow the knot that swelled in your throat, choking on the fear his words instilled in you. 

“Don’t cry. You’re going to look gorgeous when you swell with life,” Zemo said, sliding his hands up your body and kneading your breasts roughly.

“And these... My heir may have to share,” he growled, lightly biting your skin. 

“Zemo, Zemo, please. Get someone else, I don’t...” you sobbed, weakly pushing at his chest. He gripped your wrists in one hand, easily overpowering you with his size. 

You despised how good of a fuck he was. He filled you perfectly, even more so when he wasn’t protected. You tried to block out who it was, just feeling another warm body. 

Zemo at least had the grace to make you come first. 

It made your body relax around him, clouding your mind with happy chemicals as he emptied his seed in you, buried so deep he was practically shooting into your cervix. 

He didn’t let you up, forcing you to lay with your hips elevated, staying buried deep in your sex. He hushed you, though not harshly. 

“I know it’s frightening, but just take it. Be my brave girl, Y/N.”

“You’re sick.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t know the depths of my depravity.”

You didn’t doubt him.

. . . 

Zemo had been informed by several of his employees that you wouldn’t stop crying, and they kept asking to sedate you. He’d harshly declined, reminding them of your pregnancy. 

Finally, he left his work, going to see what the problem was. Since you’d been carrying his child, you’d become more docile, and even less resistant to him, as if the part of him growing inside of you had plunged you fully into stockholm syndrome. 

“Y/N. Whatever is the matter?” Zemo entered his chambers, which had become yours as well. 

You looked up at him, wrapped in a knitted blanket, curled up on the corner of his couch. He knelt down in front of you, and an outsider may have thought he was caring. Really, he was worried about his heir, your extreme stress becoming problematic. You didn’t matter to him.

“You will answer me, unless you want to sit back in that cell.”

“I’m lactating too early and it hurts,” you confessed in embarrassment, tears spilling past your waterline. 

Zemo pulled your shirt off of you, freeing you from the constraining fabric. You let him inspect you, begging softly for help.

“Please do something, I’m in pain,” you begged, choking on your words.

He hummed, having half a mind to let you sit and weep. He watched you for a moment before an alternative came to mind. 

“Come here,” he commanded, sitting beside you. 

He helped you onto his lap, easing you to straddle him. He carefully squeezed your breast, earning a pained whine. Nothing happened at first, and you squirmed in discomfort. You cried out when milk started to drip from you, easing the painful pressure. 

“Zemo?” you questioned softly in embarrassment as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking the milk into his mouth. 

You were horrified, but you couldn’t deny him as the pain began to dissipate. It was terribly arousing, and you carded your fingers through his hair, your dark, twisted, unhinged lover. 

When he moved to the other one, you had stopped crying, soothed by the relief from pressure and pain that had been plaguing you for days. 

“Better?” Zemo asked, pinching you enough to hurt. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“I expect you to be good for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

[waitineedaname]

"Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out"

For benrey @ gordon?

“And can you pick up some oat milk while you’re there? I just realized I’m out.”

“Man, oat milk freaks me out,” Benrey said, pushing their shopping cart towards the dairy section anyway. “Like, do oats even have, uh. Others?”

“Others?” There was a beat of silence as Gordon attempted to figure out exactly what the hell Benrey was talking about. “You mean udders?”

“Yeah. Cow things.”

“Dude, that’s not how oat milk works.” Gordon’s laugh made Benrey’s cheap phone speakers crackle.

“Then how does it work? Huh? Mister scientician?” Benrey propped the phone between their ear and shoulder as they opened the fridge door to grab the brand of oat milk he knew Gordon liked.

“I don’t fucking know! I’m not a goddamn milk scientist.” Even through a phone call, Benrey could hear the smile on Gordon’s face. “They squeeze juice out of the oats or smush them into a paste or something. I don’t know. Stop making me think about how oat milk works, it’s going to make me not want to drink it anymore.”

“Cool, so I’ll buy milk with extra lactose then.”

“You will not, unless you wanna deal with me laying on the couch complaining all afternoon because my stomach hurts.”

“You do that anyway.”

“Fuck off, man.” Gordon’s tone of voice didn’t carry any bite to it. “Alright, I gotta go, I’m almost at the end of the queue to pick Joshie up. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“Mhm. Love you, bye.” Benrey hung up and shoved their phone back in their jacket pocket. They unfolded the shopping list and attempted to decipher the mix of their own chicken scratch, Gordon’s doctor handwriting, and the occasional misspelled request for snacks in Joshua’s six year old handwriting. Okay, they had to get those frozen chicken nuggets Joshua liked, another pack of seltzer, a can of black beans since Gordon was planning to cook dinner tonight-

Thinking about Gordon made them suddenly freeze in place as they realized what they’d just done. Did… Did they just say “love you” on the phone with Gordon?

Aw, fuck.

They’d been living with Gordon for a while now. It hadn’t always been an easy thing for either of them. When they’d been freshly respawned, both of them had been jumpy around each other at best, and at worst, they were at each other’s throats trying to kill each other. It took a long time and a lot of uncomfortable conversations for them to get to the point where they could interact without an unbearable amount of tension. From there, they were able to start rebuilding an actual friendship. Turns out, they got along a lot better when they weren’t in mortal danger. Who knew!

Living with Gordon involved a lot of rules, both spoken and unspoken. They involved stuff like “don’t ask weird questions about Gordon’s feet,” “if one of them gets too angry, walk it off instead of actually fighting,” and “no gross body horror in front of Gordon’s son.” It also involved shit like “please for the love of god don’t put empty juice cartons back in the fridge” and “don’t stain the carpets with Sweet Voice, this is a rental and that security deposit is worth getting back.” So far, Benrey hadn’t had too much trouble following the rules. They had been a security guard, after all; following rules was supposed to be their thing. Besides, they were a low price to pay to get to spend time with Gordon.

One of those early unspoken rules, however, had been “keep the flirting to a minimum.” That one had been a little tricky at first, but it had been necessary, especially back when they still weren’t on the best of terms. Benrey learned that when Gordon was already worked up, blowing a kiss did the opposite of diffusing the situation. This was news to Benrey. Who didn’t love a little kiss from their buddies? Lame.

That had been an early rule, though, and one that had kind of faded into the background over time. The longer they lived together, the more physically affectionate they both got, and a little domesticity is only to be expected when you share a household. It was nice. Comfortable.

And then Benrey had to go and say “I love you” on the phone. What the fuck.

That had to be crossing a line, right? Gordon was fine with some handholding and some cuddling and they’d make dinner together once a week, but this had to be pushing it.

Benrey went through the rote motions of buying the rest of their groceries without really paying attention, too busy panicking. There was only one option. They had to move out. This was fine. This was totally fine. They could just crash on Tommy’s couch until they find a place of their own because there was no way this wasn’t going to make Gordon freak the fuck out. As much as they loved fucking with Gordon, they’d learned there was the fun kind of freaking him out and the bad kind of freaking him out. They were fairly certain this fell into the bad category.

By the time that they were walking up to their apartment door, they were already mentally packing up all their things, resigned to their fate. They were so stuck in their own head that Joshua barreling into their legs when they opened the door actually startled them.

“Benny!” Joshua cheered, clinging to their jeans.

“Hey, li’l dude.” Benrey carefully tried to push past the kid without tripping over him on the way to the kitchen. Tragically, that’s where Gordon also happened to be.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Gordon asked, taking some of the grocery bags from them. “I thought you’d gotten lost in Costco again.”

Benrey grunted noncommittally and started putting away groceries instead of answering Gordon. Maybe if they didn’t look at him, they could avoid confronting whatever Gordon’s reaction was. Yeah, definitely, this seemed like a sustainable, reasonable decision to make. Yep.

“Dude.” Gordon’s hand suddenly appeared on their forearm. Benrey stared at it, then looked up at Gordon’s concerned face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re putting carrots in the utensil drawer.”

Benrey looked down at their hands again. Oh. So they were.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from the store,” Gordon said, gently taking the carrots away from them. “Did something happen? You wanna talk about it?”

Benrey screwed their mouth up. No, they didn’t want to talk about it, but learning how to talk through things like adults was something they both had agreed to do. That had been a rule introduced by an exasperated Tommy, sick of mediating their bullshit. So, they sighed and looked away while Gordon put the carrots in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. “I was thinking about how I’ve gotta move out.”

“What?” Gordon stood up too fast and smacked his head on the freezer door. He swore loudly, and Benrey reached over to hand him a bag of frozen peas to put on the back of his head. “Thanks. But also, what? Since when are you moving out?”

“Uh, since now?” Benrey said, confused. Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said I love you on the phone? Dummy? You, uh, a fucking old man got bad brain disease, not remembering things?” They said, defaulting to picking on Gordon to avoid focusing on anything else. Gordon stared blankly at them for a moment, then, against all odds, a grin spread across his face.

“Benrey,” He said, and Benrey decided he didn't like that tone one bit, “Are you embarrassed?”

“Whuh? No.” There was no way they could be embarrassed. That definitely wasn't what was going on here. Nope. Not a bit, “...Maybe.”

“Dude, you don't have to be embarrassed about that.” Gordon laughed. “Do you know how often I've said stupid Freudian slips? I called my sixth grade teacher mom once and wanted to change my name and move to Canada. I've been there.”

“It wasn't, uh… It wasn't too much? Not crossing a line or anything?”

“Nah, man. It was kinda sweet.” Gordon flashed him a smile and finished putting away the last of the groceries.

“Cool.” Benrey relaxed, letting go of the tension that had been building in their shoulders. “That's good ‘cause I was gonna fight you for custody of your Xbox.” Gordon snorted.

“Good fucking luck, you’re too much of a Playstation guy to win that case.”

The evening passed relatively uneventfully from there. Gordon enlisted Benrey’s help in cooking dinner, and Joshua eagerly told them all about the cool dinosaur facts he’d learned in class that day. They went through the easy routine of watching just one episode (which of course always turned into several episodes) of Joshua’s choice of TV, then Benrey helped wash up in the kitchen while Gordon put Josh to bed. Gordon joined them as they finished washing dishes and squeezed Benrey’s shoulder affectionately when they were done.

“Alright, man, I think I’m gonna head to bed early tonight.”

Benrey nodded. “Cool. I’ll be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about it. G’night, dude.”

“Night, Gordon.”

“Oh, and Benrey?” Gordon paused in the doorway of his bedroom and waited until Benrey glanced up at him. Gordon smiled. “Love you too.”

He shut the door before Benrey could respond, leaving Benrey to stare blankly at the door. They let out a groan, careful not to wake Joshua. Oh, Gordon was going to be the death of them.

[jaskierswolf]

The Love We Have

Part 1/5 - AO3 - Next

Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen... only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None?? Maybe... I'll add them later if I remember any.

(Written as a prompt that got way out of hand for @dani-dandelino and beta'd by @professorjaskier)

____

The path up the mountain was steep, treacherous and fucking cold. Jaskier felt himself slipping on the loose rocks underfoot. He yelped, ready to meet his maker but Geralt’s strong arms wrapped around his waist before he could hit the floor. It was all very reminiscent of a lover’s embrace.

One could only dream.

Geralt had been particularly stoic on the trek up The Killer, barely responding to even direct questions and grunting orders when they set up camp for the night, but there was none of their usual banter. Unfortunately, Jaskier’s fingers had been too frozen to pluck at his lute, leaving a deafening silence between them. To top it off Geralt was now glaring at him from across the campfire.

Jaskier sighed, stuffing his hands under his armpits, pulling his hood closer around his ears. “Geralt?”

Geralt’s eyes widened as he seemed to finally register their surroundings, and he let out a low hum.

“Have- have I done something wrong?”

The crease between Geralt’s brows deepened, his jaws clenching. “No.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, scoffing haughtily. “Oh sure. Sure. So that’s why you’re acting all…” Jaskier trailed off, gesturing at Geralt’s direction with a flick of his wrist.

“Hmm.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. We are not doing this!” Jaskier tried to put his hands on his hips but the motion let a biting cold breeze into the thick woollen travelling coat that Geralt had insisted he buy for the journey to Kaer Morhen. “You’ve been grumpier than usual and honestly, I wasn’t sure that was possible. What’s going on, Geralt?”

Geralt let out a long heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wore a weary expression that Jaskier thought was utterly adorable; not that he would ever tell Geralt that. He’d learnt the hard way how much a witcher’s punch to the gut could hurt. Instead, he rested his chin on his knees and pouted at his friend. “Come on, Geralt, you invited me here. No pretending that we aren’t friends anymore.”

Geralt smiled faintly at that and then sighed once more. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

“About us being friends?” Jaskier laughed “I stopped caring about that years ago. Your actions speak louder than words, my dear.”

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut. He was barely able to conceal his gleeful smirk. This felt like coming home after the stone-cold silences of the last few days. It almost warmed the chill in his bones; almost. It would take a veritable miracle at this stage to fend off the frost bite.

“Done?” Geralt growled and Jaskier nodded. Pressing his lips together. “We have an old tradition at Kaer Morhen, ever since…” Geralt trailed off with a growl. “It’s to protect us, our home.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrow, tongue flicking out to lick his lip, a habit he’d picked up to prevent himself from interrupting Geralt. His witcher often took longer to find the right words, and Jaskier had learnt it was better to be patient.

“Only significant others are allowed.”

Jaskier blinked and Geralt’s words hung heavy in the air.

“I’m. I’m sorry, what?” he gaped.

Significant other?

“You heard me, bard.”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh, wringing his hands in his lap. “But. but we’re. we’re not?”

Oh, if only they were.

“I know that.”

“Then why?!” Jaskier wasn’t proud of the way his voice squeaked, jumping two octaves.

“I. I trust you.”

Jaskier scoffed. After nearly a decade of friendship he sincerely hoped that the witcher trusted him. He had been absolutely delighted when Geralt had extended the invitation to his elusive home in the mountains. He hated leaving Geralt over winter, the cold making his dorms at Oxenfurt seem even lonelier… but to pretend they were dating?

It was a little too close to the truth for comfort.

He was surprised Geralt had asked him at all. The witcher rarely admitted they were friends. Jaskier couldn’t imagine he’d be particularly thrilled about pretending to be lovers, and he had a brilliant imagination!

Unless, of course, Jaskier had gotten the wrong end of the stick. He could be jumping to conclusions. Geralt probably hadn’t meant for them to pretend to be lovers at all. It was just a pre-warning that Jaskier might not be entirely welcome until he earned the other witcher’s trust. They were breaking the rules. That was it.

“So…” he trailed off, not knowing how to voice his question. Geralt, helpfully grunted in response. Jaskier rolled his eyes and tried again. “Are you nervous about breaking the rules?”

Geralt frowned, that adorable little crease on his forehead deepening and Jaskier yearned to smooth it out with a press of his thumb, but alas the witcher remained grumpy and unobtainable. “They won’t know,” he huffed.

If Jaskier had been eating or drinking at that moment, then he certainly would have choked on it or spat it out all over the floor in his shock. As it was, he almost fell off the log he was perching on. “I’m sorry?”

“They’ll make assumptions. We won’t correct them.”

Jaskier was sure that his jaw would never leave the floor. “We. we won’t?”

“No.”

“Alrighty…”

An awkward silence fell over the camp. The crackling of the fire suddenly sounded louder than any tavern in Oxenfurt. Jaskier could hear every breath like a hurricane blowing through the camp, the howling of distant wolves clawing down his spine. What felt like hours was probably only seconds when the silence became too much to bear.

“Oh ho ho, no. No, no, no. No. I’m sorry. What the fuck, Geralt?”

Geralt sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I should have asked sooner.”

“Do you even know what you’re asking of me?” Jaskier peered suspiciously at the witcher, wringing his hands in his lap and flexing his fingers. He desperately wanted his lute, his notebook… something, anything.

“Just don’t correct them?”

Jaskier snorted. “Just don’t correct them?” he asked incredulously “Oh sure, it’s that simple. Geralt, my dear, you’re asking me to pretend I’m in love with you.”

Jaskier barely managed to conceal his flinch.

Pretend.

Hah!

If only it were that simple. He was a pretty decent actor, most graduates of Oxenfurt were, but to act like he was only pretending to be in love with Geralt? That would be perhaps his toughest role to date.

And it would fucking hurt. Especially since Geralt hadn’t seemed to have realised he would have to do the same.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier tilted his head at the witcher, brushing his fringe from his eyes, his hand shivering from the cold. The penny had apparently dropped; finally.

He smirked, “Well, I was thinking we’d only have to kiss but if you insist?”

Geralt growled and pushed him onto the floor.

____

That night had been a particularly awkward one. The biting cold meant that Jaskier had to curl up into Geralt’s side to prevent himself from freezing to death. Geralt would normally wrap his arms around Jaskier in his sleep, making it more comfortable for both of them. But when he woke Geralt was lying rigid next to him; only staying as close as absolutely necessary and nothing more.

They ate their breakfast in silence, with even Jaskier’s normal chatter and noise absent. Jaskier was starting to get really sick of silences but he knew that Geralt needed a chance to process. The witcher would only blow up in his face if he said something now. It was a struggle for both of them. Jaskier was always desperate to fill the silence. He never enjoyed being left alone with his own thoughts and chattering about everything and nothing helped to calm the anxiety inducing void, and yet he knew that Geralt sometimes needed time. He would normally be scribbling away in his notebook, or carving patterns into the dirt with his boots, anything to keep busy, keep moving. Instead, he tapped out silent lute fingerings on his leg beneath the cloak and chewed on his lip, only stopping when he tasted the sharp tang of blood.

It was only after they had packed up camp and been walking for a few minutes that Geralt finally spoke, seemingly calmed by Roach’s reins in his hand.

“We should plan.”

Jaskier, still shivering under his cloak, snorted; a cloud swirling in front of his face like he was some kind of draconid. “Plan?”

“Hmm.”

“Pray tell me, dear witcher, what are we planning?”

Geralt grunted, gesturing between them, a trace of a blush on his cheeks which utterly delighted Jaskier. The blush meant that Geralt could only mean one thing, and Jaskier was having a ball!

His grumpy, allergic to feelings, witcher wanted to plan how they were going to convince a keep full of witchers that they were not only dating but seriously involved. Geralt wanted to talk about it. That was a first. Perhaps the witcher was treating this like just another contract to prepare for. That thought made Jaskier’s heart clench in his chest.

Just another contract.

Fuck.

He plastered a bright smile on his face before Geralt could notice his inner turmoil and clapped his friend on the back. “What’s there to plan?” he asked cheerfully, voice full of fake camaraderie. “We’re pretending to be in love, should be easy! I’m a bard, a troubadour, a graduate of the famed Oxenfurt academy!”

“Jaskier, shut up.”

Jaskier gaped and shoved Geralt in the chest. “You wanted to talk, Geralt!”

“We need boundaries.”

Jaskier’s heart sank and his smile faltered. “Right, yes, of course. I was. I was joking, last night, when I said…”

“I know.”

“We probably will have to kiss though.” he mumbled, his cheeks were a blazing fire and he probably resembled a tomato. Hopefully Geralt would just think he was cold, which he really really was. Honestly, he was starting to think that he might never be warm again. What was heat anyway? He swallowed, digging his nails into his palm. “Maybe just on the cheek. Think your family will buy that?” Geralt shook his head. “Well… bollocks.”

Geralt chuckled and Jaskier looked up at him with a sheepish smile. Geralt actually had the decency to look apologetic for the mess he’d gotten them into. “It’ll be just enough to convince them, nothing more.”

Nothing more. Of course it was nothing more. These were the boundaries that Geralt was talking about. He didn’t want Jaskier to think it was anything more than an act. Well, message received loud and clear! He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He should be ecstatic, finally a chance to kiss Geralt… but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he wanted.

It wasn’t real.

Geralt grunted, his own hands were buried in Roach’s mane as they walked side by side up the perilous mountain. He paused suddenly and began fussing with Roach’s saddlebags. Jaskier wrapped his arms around himself, shuffling from one foot to another to keep moving. He had to keep moving or he might freeze to death. He could already feel his toes going numb and the perpetual stinging in his fingers. Oh he was definitely getting frostbite. He watched Geralt for a few moments. The witcher’s shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched. Jaskier sighed and placed a hand on Geralt’s arm, enjoying the soft warmth that radiated from the witcher, letting it seep into his frozen bones.

“Do. Do you want to practice?”

“What?”

“Kissing,” Jaskier said with a flick of his wrist. “You want boundaries, so let’s practice. That way we’ll know what we’re comfortable with”

“You want to kiss me?” Geralt asked, brow furrowed and arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jaskier scoffed at Geralt’s emotionally constipated antics. He was nearly at his limit with stupid witchers and he hadn’t even reached Kaer Morhen yet. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

Jaskier poked Geralt in the chest. “You suggested it!” he pointed out “and I’m never going to refuse the opportunity to kiss such a gorgeous person. You, dear witcher, are no exception!” He hoped that Geralt would be fooled by his nonchalant flirting. He did this all the time in taverns and courts all around the Continent and Geralt had witnessed it on many occasions. This was just what Jaskier did, nothing out of the ordinary… nothing to worry about.

He swallowed, a bubble of fear rising up in his chest and he couldn’t calm his racing heart. Oh gods, this was really far too close to the truth.

Geralt just gave a hum but let go of Roach’s reins. He gripped Jaskier’s shoulder and cocked his head, giving Jaskier the fondest of smiles. “Last chance to back out, bard.”

Jaskier grinned, raising his chin. He had a stubborn streak that would serve him well here. He never could say no to a challenge. “Just kiss me, you coward.”

A lie. Geralt was no coward. If anyone were it would be Jaskier. He couldn’t even tell Geralt the true depth of his feelings. They were concealed in songs for the whole Continent to hear but he couldn’t tell the one person that really ought to know. It was pathetic, pining over his best friend for years and years instead of moving on or just… admitting the truth?

Luckily Jaskier’s joke seemed to break the tension between them. Geralt hummed and cupped his cheek with more tenderness than he’d expected. Chapped lips pressed against his, warm and gentle as Geralt’s thumb stroked his cheek, calloused fingers brushing against the stubble that was beginning to prickle up through his skin. Jaskier wasn’t sure where to put his hands. He yearned to cup the nape of Geralt’s neck, to pull his lover closer and never let go. In a more passionate affair, his hands would land on his partner’s arse, squeezing cheekily as the kiss deepened.

Jaskier wanted to cry. It was all so sweet, so perfect, and none of it was real. This was his fate. Like a character in one of his ballads, a flower doomed to wither away without the heart of his beloved.

But this was Geralt.

This was his friend.

He settled for holding onto Geralt’s waist, his fingers digging into the wool of Geralt’s cloak. The kiss was over all too soon, leaving his head spinning. He felt breathless, like all his soul had been poured into the kiss. He pulled back from Geralt’s embrace in a hopeless attempt to calm his beating heart, but it was too late. The damage was done. With a single kiss Geralt had ruined Jaskier for all other love. Before it had been pitiful yearning but now…

Gods…

He was utterly done for.

His fingers itched for his quill. Oh, the poems and ballads he could pull from just a single kiss. A buttercup crushed under the paws of a great wolf as he roamed through the forests. Okay, that one might be a tad obvious. He preferred to at least try and hide in plain sight.

A dandelion perhaps?

Geralt would never need to know that Jaskier had almost chosen a different flower as his namesake.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier blinked and looked up at Geralt. Normally Jaskier was able to pick up the most minute changes in Geralt’s expression and his eyes were usually an open book. The witcher’s face gave away nothing and it was bloody infuriating.

“That…. that went well?” he stammered, pulling at a loose thread in his cloak.

“Hmm. We’ll be fine,” Geralt turned from him, looking more and more like the Butcher of Blaviken of old, and less like Jaskier’s darling White Wolf. “It’s not long now. We should get going.”

And get going they did.

[daddyissuesyo]

Monsta X Yandere Headcanons

tw: implied sexual content, non-sexual consent violation, murder, suicide, emotional and physical abuse, harm/endangerment, severed ties with family, vulgarity

seriously guys this is intense

Shownu: The Protector

- you pique his attention and he asks you out, seemingly normal

- becomes obsessed after the first date and captures you on the second

- avoids physical harm unless absolutely "necessary" to keep you in line. manipulates you until feeling as though you failed him.

- reckless, unconditional love

- you can't help but reciprocate a little; he's just so caring & attentive

- vanilla sex, because he loves you

- funds EVERYTHING you could possibly want: fluffy comforters and a massive mattress, personal maids, deluxe coffee maker, stuffed animals that he doesn't let you name, etc.

- you thought your dynamic was normal until you caught him dragging the limp body of the postman that accidentally saw you changing into a shed

- from that day forth you feared him, yet didn't stop loving him

- "you are my entire world. my everything. we need each other. forever and then some."

- will not kill you unless he convinces himself others will and death by his hands is the better option

Minhyuk: The Deluded

- i n f a n t i l i z e r

- pities you, oh so much

- thinks you are a helpless baby in dire need of rescuing

- treats you like a porcelain doll & refuses to let you make even the smallest decision for yourself

- convinced you are just as infatuated and dependent on him as he is you

- on good days, he will draw bubble baths, play card games with you, and play G rated movies, pausing every minute to explain what happened

- on bad days, he will yell at you, bind your limbs, and carve his name into your flesh

- simply doesn't understand your disobedience and grief and takes it out on you, hoping to "knock sense into you"

- unlike many yandere archetypes, he enjoys parading you about like an accessory. has friends come over to admire you

- "i know it's too much for you to understand, but you need my care. where is this behavior coming from? don't you love me?"

- you'll kill yourself before he can, driven to the point of insanity

Kihyun: The Jealous

- no pets. no friends. no contact with the outside world aside from media he approves.

- shelters you like mother gothel

- insists you cut off all male contacts, even family (if you are lgbtq, it's best not to reveal this to him because then you won't even be able to speak to female family members)

- doesn't hesitate to murder any man you won't cut off. forces you to watch.

- comforts you afterward in a sick way

- you have to PLEAD to go anywhere

- if he allows it, you must wear a face covering and stay by his side

- tends to be rough in bed; he lets loose all his pent-up frustrations on you

- isn't COMPLETELY out of touch with his humanity; treats you well on birthdays and holidays and even permits a supervised phone call with your mother

- "you overwhelm me. you fill me with so much joy and so much rage. you'll never know the effect you have on me, sweetheart."

- inevitable murder-suicide in the end. i give it no more than 5 years.

Hyungwon: The Sadist

- it's all a game of cat and mouse to him; he kidnapped you while you slept after stalking for quite some time

- keeps you in chains in his basement

- decorates his home with your missing posters like a real sicko

- will torture the living shit out of you with no remorse. inflicting fractures, head trauma, slicing you open, digit dismemberment, drowning, strappado

- gets off on your fear more than your pain

- unlike the others, he recognizes when you're suffering; he just doesn't care

- destroys your self-worth and self-esteem by berating and insulting you. it's your fault you can't tell he means "I love you"

- sex entails bondage, degradation, and cruel laughter. incorporates pet names like: "bunny," "little lamb," "kitty," etc.

- may get bored of you and seek out a new victim, leaving you inexplicably desperate for his attention (which is all part of his game)

- always comes back to you after he's maimed and fucked who knows how many people. and you let him every time, holding out hope that he'll stay

- "you're never going to escape me. i hope you know that."

- would rather almost kill you and keep reviving you. you're in it for the long haul.

Jooheon: The Two-faced

- like shownu, things begin typically

- gradually shows his hand over time, but you're blinded by your feelings for him (he's a very good faux boyfriend)

- waits until your most vulnerable moment to attack

- strict and often overbearing; will beat you black and blue to the point of unconsciousness

- will actually apologize, but he doesn't stop

- tries to keep things around that you enjoy and allow domestic hobbies (congratulates your accomplishments but doesn't want to fuel your ego too much because then you'll leave him)

- struggles with internal conflict over how to treat you. wishes he could be more lenient but can't bring himself to

- allows you to have family and friends over while he's present

- very good at acting normal, it's scary. will flash you a psycho smile after they leave.

- "i'm sorry things have to be this way. if only you could see... i really do love you."

- kills himself in the end due to guilt

Changkyun: The Unhinged

- yes, yandere are psychotic, but changkyun is another level

- if you try to escape or resist him, he just stares at you with round eyes, slowly growing a grin that turns into a crazy laughing fit

- protects you from outside forces, unaware that he's the greatest danger in your life

- only upside is he takes you out on the town

- slaps across the face. sometimes at random, just to let you know he's in control

- you live on eggshells, unsure if he's in a loving or violent mood

- a strange dichotomy of worshipping you and craving your attention, yet feeling like you should be the one begging for him

- fucks hard and often, but can't look at you after

- owns an industrial freezer and locks you in there until you collapse from hypothermia III

- "w-were you trying to escape? FUCK no. what don't you understand, hon? you're my fucking property."

- will stab you repeatedly in the end, smiling with tears streaming down his face

Would anyone be interested in me developing these characters/storylines further?

[stardustprompts]

the poppy war - r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   drugs , death , murder , nsfw , prostitution mention , language

‘take off your clothes.’

‘why would anyone drug themselves before a test?’

‘you’re about to be a very lucky girl, sweet.’

‘wow that’s great. really great. Terrific.’

‘your folks are assholes.’

‘well fuck the heavenly order of things.’

‘don’t you have actual responsibilities?’

‘I don’t want to get on _____ ‘s bad side.’

‘you would make a terrible prostitute. no charm.’

‘what is so wrong with getting married?’

‘do you want to die?’

‘everything is spilling out of my head as quickly as I put it in.’

‘please do not commit spousal homicide.’

‘give me a way out of this shithole.’

‘hello, I’m praying.’

‘I seduced him with my nubile young body. you caught me.’

‘you can’t scare me into a confession, because I’m telling the truth.’

‘and that means you’re shit at your job.’

‘if you cross them—- if they even think you’ve looked at them funny—- they can and will hurt you.’

‘it’s easy to lose a language when you never speak it.’

‘you’re offending them with your very presence.’

‘they’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them.’

‘no matter what they say, you deserve to be here.’

‘I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.’

‘I went out in the sun once. you should try it sometime.’

‘oh, you’re the one ____ hates.’

‘you’d be a prick too if your family was both rich and attractive.’

‘honestly? I think he just comes in here to get high.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘unless you’ve got a weapon, don’t aim for the face. the neck’s a better target.’

‘we aren’t here to be sophisticated. we’re here to fuck people up.’

‘this is the only kick you’ll ever need, really. a kick to bring down the most powerful warriors.’

‘power dictates acceptability.’

‘he hasn’t done anything to earn my respect. all he’s done is act high and mighty.’

‘you’re nothing. you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘consider me bullied and intimidated, just let me sleep.’

‘he’s playing with her. he’ll end it soon.’

‘they’re good at fighting, but not much else.’

‘spend a lot of time looking at ____’s eyes do you?’

‘a betrayal of that sort would not have been out of character.’

‘come on, you belong here too.’

‘they’re not going to get rid of me like this. not this easily.’

‘I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!’

‘you’d rather kill your own people than let the opponent’s army walk away?’

‘you don’t let an enemy walk away if they’ll certainly be a threat to you later.’

‘he can’t stop raving about you.’

‘oh, don’t pretend to be bashful. you love it.’

‘you’re a walking disaster.’

‘anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you.’

‘I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into ____’s window. he sounds awesome.’

‘it’s me, your favorite person in the whole wide world.’

‘I do not have a problem. you are making up this problem for reasons unbeknownst to me.’

‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘they were weak as shit. scrawnier than you, even.’

‘you’re a real asshole. you know that right?’

‘your state of mind is just as important as the state of your body.’

‘sometimes you must loose the string to let the arrow fly.’

‘because I want to break his stupid face.’

‘he’s the most dangerous when he’s desperate.’

‘from this point on you’re just going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you.’

‘you’re too reckless. you hold grudges, you cultivate your rage and let it explode, and you’re careless about what you’re taught.’

‘I knew I was the only one that could help him.’

‘they honed his rage like a weapon, instead of teaching him to control it.’

‘one urinating statue for my easily entertained friend.’

‘I don’t believe in gods. but I believe in power.’

‘one might say you’ve been obsessed with ____.’

‘don’t look to your left. pretend you’re taking to me.’ / ‘I am talking to you.’

‘we’re studying very weird things.’

‘I don’t actually know what I’m getting into.’

‘here is what happened: you called a god, and the god answered.’

‘you know that if you don’t get answers now, the hunger will consume you and your mind will crack.’

‘you’ve glimpsed the other side and you can’t rest until you fill in the blanks.’

‘supernatural is a word for anything that doesn’t fit your present understanding of the world.’

‘I’m supposed to take it as true that you’re a god?’

‘I’m not a god. I am a mortal who has woken up, and there is power in awareness.’

‘are we getting high? oh, wow. we’re getting high.’

‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

‘we are not madmen. but how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so?’

‘the price of power is pain.’

‘I understand the truth of things. I know what it means to exist.’

‘prey do not question the motives of the predator. the dead do not question the living. mortals do not challenge the gods.’

‘I killed for you. I would have done anything for you.’

‘I have seen the end of things. the shape of the world has changed.’

‘war doesn’t determine who’s right. war determines who remains.’

‘it’s alright. I know what you are.’

‘I thought I was the only one left.’

‘we have developed the power to rewrite the fabric of this world. if we don’t use it, then what’s the point?’

‘I don’t mess with that shit. it screws you up.’

‘I understand the appeal, I really do, but I like having my mind to myself.’

‘he’s a charmer. like a new puppy. you think he’s adorable until he pisses on the furniture.’

‘there’s no routine. no discipline. nothing you’re used to. am I right?’

‘so you’re the last of your kind. that’s sad.’

‘If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own.’

‘____ feared, and so he held you back.’

‘great danger is always associated with great power. the difference between the great and the mediocre is that the great are willing to take that risk.’

‘don’t ever let go on that anger. rage gives you power. caution does not.’

‘don’t give in... you’ve been so brave... but it takes more bravery to resist the power.’

‘the nature of this god is to destroy. the nature of this god is to be greedy, to never be satisfied with what he has consumed.’

‘so. screaming at rocks. is that, like, normal behavior here?’

‘fix this. prove your worth. do your fucking job or get out.’

‘I saved your life. doesn’t that make us at least a little square?!’

‘I was scared of you. and I lashed out.’

‘I thought I was better than you, and I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘when I killed it, it felt like murder.’

‘look, I’m happy to discuss this, really, but I’m currently leaking life out three different wounds and I think I may pass out. would you give me a moment?’

‘well maybe ____ should get his head out of his ass.’

‘ ____ is more fragile than you think.’

‘look, asshole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

‘they say he can read the future. shatter minds.’

‘you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I am not your friend.’

‘he’s not human. he—- I don’t know what he is.’

‘but ___ was never allowed to be human.’

‘do you trust me?’ / ‘no. but that’s irrelevant.’

‘you don’t know what true suffering is.’

‘I have seen more than my fair share of suffering.’

‘that boy is beyond redemption. that boy is broken like the rest.’

‘I don’t want to be saved! I want power!’

‘that power will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. you will defeat your enemy, and the victory will turn to ashes in your mouth.’

‘we’ve missed something. something’s been laid out for us, but we can’t see it.’

‘fretting won’t make the dead come back to life.’

‘there was nothing human in those eyes.’

‘It was a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.’

‘I don’t need your pity. I need you to kill them for me.’

‘whatever it takes. swear it on your life. swear it for me.’

‘I won’t judge him. I don’t dare, because I don’t have the right. and neither do you.’

‘you asked me why I wouldn’t stop him. now you understand. you can’t stop an avenger. you can’t reason with a madman.’

‘I am afraid of what he might do in his quest for vengeance. and I am afraid that he is right.’

‘I am about to do something terrible. and you will have a choice.’

‘they give nothing to the universe, and the universe owes them nothing in return.’

‘you cannot survive my death.’

‘you’re trying to deceive me. you don’t get to deceive me.’

‘this is not the way. this path leads only to darkness.’

‘when are you going to stop being such a damn coward? what are you running from?’

‘you will turn the world to ash, and only demons will live in the rubble.’

‘you dress up your crusade with moral arguments, when in truth you would let millions die if it means you get your so-called justice.’

‘you have not cared about anything for a very long time. you are broken.’

‘I am terrified. but only because I’m starting to remember who I once was. don’t go down that path.’

‘your country is ash. you can’t bring it back with blood.’

‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.’

‘you know the worst part? we’re so close to home.’

‘did you miss me? did you miss this?’

‘I just gave him some of his favorite medicine.’

‘resistance here means suffering. there is no escape. no future.’

‘you have nothing to fight for anymore’

‘what are you defending? you owe ____ nothing.’

‘we were disposable. we were tools. tell me that doesn’t make you furious.’

‘I am sick with fury.’

‘I will die on my feet. I will not die a coward. and neither will you.’

‘we could stay here. we could stay here forever. we wouldn’t have to go back.’

‘you’ll have to live with the consequences. but you’re brave ... you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

‘I have lost everything I care about. I don’t want peace, I want revenge.’

‘I don’t need to sleep. I need to feel nothing.’

‘do you want forgiveness? I can’t give you that.’

‘we avenged him. he’s gone, but avenged.’

‘you have to believe that it was necessary. that it stopped something worse. and even if it wasn’t, it’s the lie we’ll tell ourselves, starting today and every day afterward.’

‘aren’t you supposed to be a seer? do you ever see anything useful?’

‘we have an enemy whom we love.’

‘I’m going to find and kill everyone responsible. you cannot stop me.’

‘oh I’m not going to stop you.’

[thebhorror]

Cause you’re a brand new species

Deciding which cryptids are the most dateable is a good way to pass the time, unless you're Will and your friends start making some valid points about your boyfriend.

Rated: General Audiences

1,794 Words

Read it on AO3

@solangeloweek Monstrous March Day 4: Cryptids

Will sometimes wondered why he didn’t just get better friends.

Don’t get him wrong. He would take a celestial bronze bullet for any of his siblings and his friends, and the less said about how intensely he loved his boyfriend, the better. But, they were a handful. An exhausting, chaotic handful at that. And his patience could only be stretched so thin.

Like, when Will was sitting with Cecil and Lou Ellen outside Hecate Cabin, waiting the allotted twenty minutes necessary for the Splat Blue Envy hair dye to take effect in Cecil’s sandy blonde hair. Will wished he was anywhere else in that moment. The conversation at hand between his two friends was too heinous for anyone’s ears, and he couldn’t wait for them to change topics. Will would even rather them talk about how Lou thought Kayla was hot (a conversation Will hated because there was only so much gushing about his sister he could handle, especially when Kayla also thought similarly about Lou Ellen. Why they didn’t just date was BEYOND him).

Will didn’t even have the buffer of Nico, someone else to roll his eyes at them and loudly exclaim how over the top they were being, a rant that no doubt would be laced with hyperboles and colorful language. Instead, he just had to suffer in silence and listen to the world’s worst debate ever. He was seconds away from wishing for the gods to take him out, except that he knew that if he did, they would gladly oblige.

“Okay, okay. Now for a hard one. Would you rather date Mothman or the Flatwoods Monster? Even though I am a gay man, something about the Flatwoods Monster does it for me. She’s sick as hell,” Cecil said, about to run his hand through his currently sopping hair, before stopping himself short. “Fuck, that would have been bad.”

“Oh, please. Any self respecting bisexual would know that Mothman is who you should date. Did you know there’s a festival for him in West Virginia? We should go one day,” Lou said, her eyes sparkling, a wide grin on her face. Will had just about had enough.

“Okay, I object to that. First of all, this conversation is making me slowly lose my mind because this is all so ridiculous. Second of all, as a self respecting bisexual, I personally would not date Mothman. Or any cryptid for that matter. You guys are weird and I hate this conversation,” Will announced, wishing his boyfriend was there to take his side (among the other reasons that he wished he was there, but this one just took precedence in the moment).

Lou Ellen and Cecil looked at Will for a few seconds in silence like he had suddenly grown an extra set of arms. “Oh, I don’t think he knows,” Lou Ellen finally said, a shocked expression on her face.

“How could he not know?” Cecil asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked at Will, then back at Lou Ellen, then at Will again. “He doesn’t know?”

“He doesn’t know,” Lou Ellen confirmed. “Look at him Cecil! The guy is clueless,” Lou said, gesturing to Will wildly. Lou Ellen and Cecil looked at each other again, before cracking up, tears streaming down their faces.

“Oh come on. You guys know I hate when you do that,” Will complained, feeling like a bratty child. “What’s so funny? I need to know. I hate not being in on things!”

“You think you would be used to that by now, Will. Mr. Wait-Flying-Squirrels-Exist,” Lou teased, laughing hysterically. Will hated when they brought that up.

“You are dating the Camp Half-Blood Cryptid himself, Will! You don’t get a say in the matter during this conversation, because while we are just sitting here debating what cryptids we would date to keep ourselves to try to keep ourselves entertained, you are out here doing the damn thing yourself,” Cecil explained, wheezing so hard Will wondered if he should run to get his inhaler.

“Come on, guys. Nico is not a cryptid. Yesterday, you shared a pack of sour skittles with him. How many people can say that they’ve done that with, like, the Loch Ness Monster or the Jersey Devil? He’s just some guy.”

“Yeah, he’s just “some guy” that ran away from Camp when he was ten, who then randomly appeared a year and a half later with an army of the dead. Then, he stayed for a couple of weeks, only for him to disappear again. He’s a legend,” Lou Ellen explained, wiping her eyes. “The evidence is overwhelming.”

“Seeing him used to be a shock! He sulks in the shadows, talks only to the same five people on a regular basis, and is incredibly powerful.”

“We all are powerful, we are demigods,” Will replied, rolling his eyes. “You gotta be more convincing.”

“Oh! I remember when I first came to Camp and there was that huge crack in the floor of the dining pavilion! I asked Travis about the crack. He got this far away look in his eyes and was like ‘oh, it’s just from some kid who disappeared without a trace.’ I thought the bastard was kidding, but that was the one time he was actually telling the truth! Your boyfriend did just crack the floor, disappear, and suddenly reappear just in time to salvage the Battle of Manhattan,” Cecil said, shaking his head.

“He had good reason to leave! He just found out his sister had died. He was upset,” Will said, even though he felt like this was a losing battle.

“I don’t know about you guys, but a scary story that got passed around a lot in the Hecate Cabin was that if you went out alone at night, you would meet Nico,” Lou Ellen commented, shivering a little. “It’s less effective now that he’s almost always at Camp, but for the newer ones it still works wonders. We have way less bouts of people breaking curfew since we passed along that rumor.”

“I love the guy, but come on. He gives off these vibes,” Cecil added, wiggling his fingers, trying to convey Nico’s ‘vibes.’ “Like yeah there’s the whole death thing going on, but something about him feels ancient.”

“Cecil, he was born in the 1930s! You know he’s sensitive about that. Come on, dude,” Will said and Cecil shrugged.

“Oh, I am not making fun of him. It’s cool as hell! I love cryptids. I, for one, think we should commodify him. Make other campers pay to see the Camp Cryptid.” Will knew Cecil was playing it up now, trying to get Will riled up on purpose. And it was working, no matter how much Will tried to fight it. Gods, Will hated him.

“I’m sure that if we talked to the Romans, they also would agree that Nico is incredibly cryptid-like. Didn’t he just randomly start showing up at Camp Jupiter too, coming and going as he pleased?” Lou Ellen added on, and Cecil nodded in agreement. “See? Cryptid behavior. Case closed.”

“You are not treating my boyfriend like a museum exhibit. He’s not a cryptid, he’s a person, and you guys are being obnoxious,” Will said, bored of this ridiculous conversation and missing Nico immensely. He got up, about to stalk over to the Apollo Cabin for a power nap before dinner, when he stopped. “Oh and Cecil? It’s been over twenty minutes. Hope your hair isn’t fried,” Will said, leaving, while Cecil exclaimed and took off running for the bathrooms. Gods, Nico was rubbing off on him with those dramatic exits.

Once back in his cabin, Will flopped down on his bed to sulk. Maybe Will was being ridiculous, but he missed Nico okay! Every so often, Nico was called off for some reason or another, and sometimes Will tagged along if he was available. But, Will didn’t always go because he did not want to be the clingy boyfriend who would follow Nico to the ends of the world (even if that was the truth). Those times when he didn’t go along for the ride, he was just left to sit and miss Nico. Will didn’t like to worry, didn’t like to be overbearing, but he hoped Nico was okay.

This time, Nico was spending some time with Hazel. Before he left, he mentioned that there was a reason she contacted him, something they needed to take care of together. He didn’t go into details, most likely planning on saving it for when he returned, but whatever it was seemed important and secretive, like so much about Nico.

Will tried to ignore that fact, because no matter how secretive and sometimes weird Nico was, he was not a cryptid! It was ridiculous of their friends to even suggest that. Even if he did (privately) agree with some of the points Cecil and Lou were making, the longer he rolled them over in his brain.

It certainly didn’t help Will’s case that Nico turned up three days later, appearing out of the shadows looking ruffled and exhausted. In one of his hands was a hydra head, no doubt a monster he fought during his time away. It was a given, especially, when you looked at his clothes and noticed holes in them like he had been splashed with acid, which he probably had been. Regardless, Will jumped up from where he was sitting watching a game of volleyball and ran towards him, feeling his prior anxieties melt away. Nico was gone for a long time, so long in fact that Will was actually worried something happened, but now he was home. It felt like a breath of fresh air for Will.

“Don’t ask,” was the first thing Nico said, a tired smile on his face. He kissed Will before stalking off towards the Big House, slowly pulling the head behind him, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. It was so gruesome that one of the new girls from Aphrodite Cabin fainted. Will didn’t feel the need to tend to the girl since Kayla was on duty, so he spent the time watching Nico until he was nothing more than a tiny black dot in the distance.

“Cryptid energy,” Cecil commented, somehow still sneaky and undetectable, even with his freshly dyed electric blue hair. Will nearly jumped out of his skin, before he regained his cool and looked to Cecil.

Will sighed. “You know, I’m starting to see your point,” Will conceded and Cecil gave a whoop of enjoyment.

“Will Solace, cryptid dater extraordinaire. I knew you would see the light, buddy. I think it’s neat. I am not knocking you for it.”

“On the gods, I will hit you. Don’t make me do it."

[shurisneakers]

shut in [11]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, abuse

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: just to clarify, there are 14 chapters and an epilogue!! also you guys are so nice, thank you for letting me know what you think about this <333</p>

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The wait was taking a toll. It was clawing at you from the inside, and paired with the occasional flare your anxiety gave, everyday was like spending time in an hourglass that was steadily filling up. 

Sam helped; making sure the both of you ate after spending hours planning out and revising every detail, introducing you to the world when you spent too long indoors. 

The constant rap of your finger against the table and pen tucked behind your ear was the position you found yourself in more often than not. Different scenarios listed themselves on a sheet of paper so you could go through the process of elimination, sorting each loophole out with proper backup. 

Going to New York, 3rd floor of 32nd Street, only cash-

“I’m goin’ on a run.” Sam poked his head in from the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll be back before Ransone calls.”

“What?” you mumble, not paying attention. You scratched out another implausible scenario, leaving you with many more to go. Everything had to be perfect.

“Going out. Be back soon,” he repeated. 

It still took a minute to register but you found yourself shaking your head once it did. “No, don’t.”

“Why?” he straightened up, no longer leaning on the wall. “Something wrong?”

“It’s not safe.” 

“I checked the cameras. No one’s out there,” he sounded confident but you couldn’t shake the feeling of skepticism around the situation that was beginning to return to you. “I’ll be careful.”

“You could be careful by not going.” You shouldn’t have to explain this to him. “It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s changed yet-”

“They have.” You whip around to look at him. “Things are different now. We don’t know what’s out there.”

You both know that he had already been seen once. Who knew how many people were waiting forty feet away from the house? Risking his life for a jog was ridiculous.

“I can handle a 20 minute run,” he challenged. “I’m not even going that far.”

“You’re being reckless.” You could see the rebellious streak he had warned you of before making an entrance. Though you found his spontaneity endearing, the rashness that accompanied it you weren’t fond of.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, Sam,” you exclaimed. “We can’t fuck up the plan with you dying.”

He looks at you with his head tilted and annoyance on his face. A wave of tense silence washes over the both of you and only then do you realise it’s the closest thing you've had to an actual argument before.

“Is that really what this is about? The plan?” he questioned, arms crossed over his chest.

You hesitated.

“What else would it be about?” You know he saw it, the brief moment you took before you answered.

“I’m going for a run,” he said decisively. It stung more than it should have. “But I’m not going far. I’ll circle the house.”

That eased it, somewhat. You would prefer if he didn’t at all, but you were at peace with the compromise. A middle ground. 

You nodded, looking away from him. He left soon after, but seeing him run past the window every now and then made you feel better. 

Your mind replayed what he implied. You knew what he was saying, you weren’t completely dense. But you would never let emotions get in the way of work.

It had never worked out well for you before, not while you were still stuck with the organization. Like always, you could feel the familiar ache build in your chest, faces you prayed to forget flashing in your mind. 

You exhaled, forcing yourself to not relive it again. You were thinking an awful lot about it for someone who supposedly didn’t care about it.

Stupid Sam with his stupid cute face and stupid good heart. Fuck him.

____

“Y/N.”

“Ransone.” 

You nodded at Sam who was standing beside you with a glass of water in his hand, leaning his body weight on the table.

“Wilson there with you?”

“No, he isn’t.” Lying to him had become a habit by now, even though you were well acquainted with the consequences of doing so. “What’s the update?”

“We think we found them,” Ransone reported.

“Found who?”

“The people who shot at you.” 

Your body tensed.

“Who is it?” you asked slowly, peering at Sam through the corner of your eye.

“Serpentine,” he said coolly. Sam scoffed, taking a small walk in circles to calm himself down. “Trying to establish themselves at the top again. Went for one of you but we don’t know which, found both of ya instead. Killed Pierce then waited for you to show up.” 

Your eyebrows quirked up. You could see the muscles in Sam’s jaw tighten.

“How’d you find out?” You place your hand on his, urging him to calm down. He visibly softened, closing his eyes and letting out a silent exhale before nodding for you to continue.

“People talk. You know that Y/N,” Ransone sounded bitter.

“Not personally, no,” you mumbled. 

“Well, they do.” The way his tone shifted back to normal like the conversation you just shared didn’t happen almost gave you whiplash. “That’s all on our end. What’s happening there?”

“Nothing. No updates.”

“Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ransone commented. “He tends to get… mouthy.”

“I don’t see him much,” you lied blatantly, ignoring the insult to Sam even though you wanted to retort. 

“That’s a good thing. Can’t have you getting attached now, can we?” 

You barely looked at Sam, only zeroed in on the fact that his thumb was absentmindedly tracing circles onto your skin while he paid attention to what Ransone was saying.

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’re getting sick of him,” Ransone chided, pushing this conversation far longer than you wanted him to. “After this I’ll make sure you never have to see him again, don’t worry.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows knitted together. You wondered if you responded too quickly.

“I’ll have him stationed somewhere else. Away from you at all times. Won’t have to interact with him again.” He was doing it again. Ruining any fucking form of a relationship you could have. “You can thank me later.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you bit back. He knew what he was doing. He was drawing it out of you.

“Well I thought you’d be more grateful consideri- oh,” he stopped abruptly. “Unless you’re already attached to him.”

You pulled your hand away from Sam who only looked concerned about where this conversation was heading. The sudden chill that took its place didn’t make you feel any better.

“Oh, Buttercup,” he laughed pitifully. “You know it would never work. Don’t you remember all the others?”

You didn’t say anything. Only folded your arms together and forced yourself not to go down the path he was trying to drag you to. If you hung up now he’d only take it as a confirmation. 

“You two shouldn’t have been friends in the first place. Your lives would have never intersected if this didn’t go wrong.” You hated how he was pointing out things you had overanalyzed time and time again. 

You hesitated for a second, forgetting the fact that you knew he was preying on you on purpose. 

Because these were thought you’d already had. Thoughts of whether you were growing on him only because you were stuck together. Of course if he was forced to co-inhabit a safehouse for this long with anyone he’d like them. 

And as much as you despised to even think it, Ransone was right. How would it even work once you got out? 

It couldn’t. 

And you wouldn’t let yourself even consider the possibility that it might because it was just wishful thinking at best. The line between friendship and something more were merging together so fast, you weren’t even sure they existed anymore. 

“He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. I’m sure he’s charmed his way into making you think you’re important to him, but you’re not,” he sounded sympathetic, almost like he was patronizing you. “You’re just his way out of there, honey.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to launch into a tirade. You held up a finger to silence him, praying that he wouldn’t do something stupid. You couldn’t lose the only communication you had with Ransone over this.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way-” What a truckload of horseshit. 

“I’ll send you my location,” you broke in, words faltering. “Just have someone come get me.”

“If that’s what you want.” You could tell that he was barely hiding the joy he had gotten out of completely fucking with you.

“Don’t look for me directly. I’ll come to you. Just have someone ready to bring me back.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Sam. You had too much going through your head at the moment, things that had specifically to do with him.

“Are you sure? Someone can be at your doorstep within an hour, you know that.”

“I need time to sort some things out. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“As you wish.” You wanted to smack him.

“Bye,” you say shortly, trying to wrap it up.

“Y/N,” he cut in before you could end the conversation. You wait for him to continue, not saying a word. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You roll your eyes and hang up, not letting him get another word in. The minute you got a second to breathe, everything he said began crawling its way back into your head. 

“What the hell was that?” Sam fumed.  

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“That wasn’t a part of the plan.” You want to tell him to calm down because you had never seen him this infuriated before. 

“I don’t know,” you repeated, feeling more drained by the second. You fucked up by talking to him for so long, you knew it. 

“That sick, abusive piece of shit,” he continued furiously, but you only looked down, tuning out his droning. 

It was fucking humiliating to think that you could have a normal life. It just wasn’t possible. You were in too deep. Staying here with Sam only confused you, made you long for things that weren’t attainable. 

“He’s right,” you utter quietly, effectively shutting him up.

He stared at you incredulously. “What?” 

“He’s right.” You pushed yourself away from where you’re leaning on the table.

“About what?” 

“You know what, Sam.” 

“No, I don’t,” he retorted, “He said a lot of shit so I’m going to need you to specify.” 

“I’m going to take a nap.” Your head was spinning; you didn't know how to tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Don’t run away from this conversation,” he sounded annoyed, rightfully so. “Tell me what he’s right about so we can talk this out.”

“About this,” you relented, spinning around to look at him. “Us.”

“He was just trying to get into your head, Y/N, like he always does,” Sam exclaimed, letting his arms fall beside him.

“This could never work, Sam. We’re friends because we see each other every single day, constantly.” You gestured back and forth between the both of you. “What happens once we get out? When you’re not stuck with me twenty-four-seven?”

He knew what happens to people when they get too close within the organization; he had first hand experience with Riley. They never survived long enough to tell the story themselves. They were ripped away from you, time and time again. It was so tiring to start all over from the beginning, every single time and for nothing. 

You didn’t want it to happen again, not to him. You just wished he’d believe the other anxieties you deemed less important than this, and dropped the topic. Another death is not something you’d be able to handle. 

“We deserve a bit more credit than that, I think,” he said defensively, taking a step toward you. “If our relationship was built solely on proximity then it wouldn’t affect you this much. We’re beyond that.”

“Well, what if we’re not? What if we realise we only tolerated each other because we didn’t have a choice?” you fired back, crossing your arms. 

“Speak for yourself,” he huffed. “I would never let that dictate my choice.”

He sounded so confident, so assured that it wasn’t circumstantial. How could he be so sure?

“I don’t get you,” you whispered. “I can’t figure you out.”

“What don’t you get?” He looked like he was on the verge of pleading. He stopped right in front of you, a temporary barricade between you and the hallway. 

“Why you treat me the way you do.” 

He looks taken aback for a second. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you in any-”

“No,” you interrupt him, realising that it didn't sound the way you wanted it to. “Why you’re so… good. To me.”

He doesn’t say anything in return and you can’t even look at him, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

You had tried for so long to figure out what his motives were. Every time he did things that went beyond common courtesy, your gut would scream at you to find a hidden motive. No one was ever this nice to you unless they were put up to it. You’d had enough experience to realise this.

When you couldn’t find anything it only confused you more. You had shoved it away a while ago after he never displayed any other reason. You let yourself believe it for once.

But it was back; the incessant need to know everything. It was gnawing at you along with everything else because Ransone knew exactly what buttons to push. There had to be something. 

“Y/N,” he called out softly. You felt his hands on your shoulders, urging you to look at him. 

“It’s stupid,” you murmur, trying to ignore the fluttering in your heart. 

“It’s not. And I need you to look at me when I say this,” he says slowly, drawing your attention to his face. “I care about you. More than you think I do. You’re not some means to an end. He’s wrong and I need you to believe me on that.”

He waits for it to set in. You get why he wanted you to look at him now. There wasn’t an inkling of deceit in what he was saying. You had seen him lie, seen him try to bluff his way out of a petty situation. It wasn’t this. 

He cared about you because he wanted to. Not because he was forced to; whether it was because you lived together, or because of something else. 

There was so much more you wanted to ask him but nothing got past your throat. It was too heavy. You needed help.

There was barely any distance between the both of you. You could feel his breath, skin tingling from where he was holding you. 

You unconsciously move in, drifting towards the warmth he radiated. Your hands find a place on his sturdy chest, and you let his heartbeat tether you. 

His eyes close when you lean your forehead against his, forcing himself to control his breathing that was threatening to get away from him.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, forehead pressed against his, trying to make your peace with what he said. 

You want to kiss him, much stronger than the last time you had the same thought. Just to see what it’d be like. 

You instead pull away gently. Your hands still rest on his chest. You need time to figure out where your head's at.

“I trust you.” Is all you can say, not tearing your eyes away from him. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger there for a second and you revel in the flips your stomach does. “I trust you.”

But for now, maybe you can be content with where you are.

Next part

[noforkingclue]

You Should’ve Ran (Zemo x reader)

Summary: There was a lot of this you should’ve done but now it was too late.

Warnings: Dark, non con, choking, poorly written smut, Zemo being an absolute bastard

Author’s Note: So this is probably one of the darkest things I’ve written. I also haven’t written anything smutty in ages so I don’t know how good it’s going to be. Please take note of the above warnings!

You should’ve ran when you had the chance. You should’ve packed a bag and ditched your home as soon as he let you go, but you didn’t. You were foolish, arrogant, you thought that you could beat him at his own game and now you were paying the price.

You should’ve ran.

But you stayed.

And now you were paying the price

You hated to admit it but you had gotten used to the staring, to the constant feeling of eyes on the back of your neck. The soft brushes in the crowd that you somehow, instinctively, knew were from him. The footsteps following you home at night even though you could protect yourself. In the beginning it felt like he was some sick, twisted protector. You were torn between craving his attention and fleeing, although you knew that running away from him would just start your cat and mouse game again. There was no escaping once he had you in his sights.

The one thing that still unnerved you was when you could tell that he had been in your flat. That was your one safe space again the world and for him to be in it without your permission felt like he was violating an unwritten rule. It wasn’t as though he had done anything dreadful (at least in the beginning) but it felt odd. When you walked in after a long day’s work and smelt his cologne or to wake up to a basket of your favourite pastries. It felt oddly intimate and you hated it.

However, things took a turn for the worse in the summer and when you finally decided to put an end to your single life. The date had gone well, very well, and you were looking forward to meeting him again. You had been so elated that you didn’t register that someone was in your flat until it was too late. You were slammed against your front door, Zemo’s arm across you neck. He was breathing heavily and his eyes half lidded. The warning was clear and he pressed harshly against you before letting you go. You collapsed at his feet gasping for air. When you tried to stand he put a hand on top of your head and pushed you down saying,

“Pets should remain at my feet and on their knees.”

The threat was clear but you were stupid enough to ignore it. You continued seeing your date until the notes arriving. The threats, warning you to stop seeing your boyfriend unless you never wanted to see him again, telling you (in explicit detail) exactly what he wanted to do to you. The handwritten notes made you blush as you read the graphic details and you swiftly crumpled them up and threw them away. This did nothing to stop him and it actually increased the frequency of the notes. But the one that made your blood turn to ice was one of the shortest. You stood rooted to the stop as you took in the neat script.

 You have one week to come to me, pet.

 It terrified you. The violent and lustful words written in such neat handwriting was an unsettling juxtaposition. You knew you should break up with your boyfriend for his own safety but much like everything else you had acted it was too late. You had turned on the news one morning and you dropped your coffee mug in shock. As you saw your boyfriend’s face on the screen and the news report calming stating details of the unsolved murder, you knew you had to leave.

It was late when you finally re-entered your flat after speaking with the police. It had taken longer than expected but at least now you were crossed off their list of suspects. You poured yourself a glass of water and took a large sip before putting it down and rushing to your bedroom. You grabbed your suitcase and started shoving clothes into it. You didn’t care what you took just as long as you left as soon as possible. You ran back into the living and paused. You stared wide eyed and slowly looked over your shoulder. A piece of paper was neatly tucked under the glass. With shaking hands you unfolded the notes and collapsed onto the sofa when you read it.

 I warned you.

 You finished the water in one gulp, grabbed your bag and left your flat and life behind. You ran out of your flat not caring who saw you. You needed to get as far away as possible but you knew it was too late. Zemo had you in his grasp and he was not going to let you go that easily. You shuddered as you felt his piercing gaze on you, even though you couldn’t see him, and you ducked into an alley in the hopes of losing him in the backstreets. You knew you had fucked up when the sounds of the city became muffled and all you could hear was your own laboured breathing and the soft click of slowly approaching footsteps. You took a sharp left and let out a cry of frustration when you ran into a dead end. You closed your eyes and felt the tears run down your face as you heard Zemo stop at the entrance to the passageway.

“Commendable effort,” he said walking towards you, “But really pointless.”

“Please,” you said quietly, “Please just let me go.”

“I can’t do that,” Zemo pressed his body up against your back, “I’ve given up so much for you already.”

Zemo put one hand on your shoulder and pushed you towards the wall. You let out a cry as you were pushed roughly against it and Zemo caged you in with his body. A fresh set of tears fell down your face as you felt his arousal against you. You shook your head as Zemo pressed a trail of kisses down your neck.

“This wasn’t how I intended things to go,” he said against your shoulder, “I wanted to take you away from this place, to take you in my bed. To shower you in the love and affection that had been denied all your life. You would want for nothing and all I require is one thing.”

You didn’t answer and one of Zemo’s hands snaked up and clasped itself around your throat. He squeezed harshly and you gasped in shock.

“For you to do everything I say,” he hissed, “To give me everything.”

Zemo’s other hand ghosted along the waistband of your jeans. You tensed before trying to shake him off. Even though you should’ve had super strength you found yourself weakened and you heard Zemo chuckle darkly.

“Is something the matter?” he asked mockingly, “You should be stronger than I am.”

The sickening realisation of what he did settled in the pit of your stomach.

“You drugged me.” You said weakly

“An unfortunate necessary,” he said, “But for me to take what I want I had to do it. If you had just come with me willingly, like I asked you to,” he squeezed your neck again and you whimpered, “It wouldn’t have been like this. I would’ve been gentle. I would’ve given you everything but instead you forced me to do this.”

His hand delved into your jeans and his fingers rubbed harshly against you. You cried out at the sudden sensation and Zemo cooed in mock sympathy.

“See how much easier things would be if you just submitted, mein Liebling,” he said, knowing how much you hated that nickname, “You would’ve been in a soft, warm, bed and not pushed up against this wall and being taken like a whore.”

“Please,” you sobbed, “Stop.”

Once against Zemo tightened his grip around your neck, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

“If I were you,” he said quietly, “I would be quiet. Pets don’t talk back to their masters.”

Much to your horror Zemo didn’t ease his grip. His fingers continued to work roughly against you and when they circled against your entrance you tried to squirm away. However, there was nowhere to go. When you moved back you brushed against Zemo and you shuddered when you heard his soft moans.

“Already aching for me,” he said, “I can feel how wet you’re getting for me.”

“Stop.” You said weakly

“Never,” he bit your earlobe, “You need to learn your place in this world. Your place which is in my bed, under me, by my side.”

Each word was punctuated by his fingers slowly swirling around you. You shook your head and he growled before shoving a finger inside you.

“So tight,” he hissed, “So ready for me. You want me don’t you.”

“No.”

“Then why are you so wet.”

Any other time you would’ve gone on about biology but at this current moment, with his hand around your neck, you couldn’t get the words out. You didn’t need to see him to know that he was giving you the same mocking smile that haunted your nightmares.

“You want me,” he said as he slowly moved his finger in and out, “You need me. You crave this. What you need is for someone to take you in hand. To show you proper discipline and to raise you up to your fullest potential. Is what I’m asking for in return really that much? Your freedom for the world?”

Zemo loosened his grip and you gasped for air. His hand moved to your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes.

“I don’t want the world,” you said, “I just want to live my life in peace.”

“I can give you peace,” Zemo said resting his forehead against yours, “I can give you everything.”

His fingers stilled and you whimpered at the loss of movement. He smirked at your reaction and briefly swiped his thumb over your clit. You jumped in his arms and let out a soft moan. In a flash Zemo had spun you around and pushed your back against the wall. His fingers started moving again and you gasped in pleasure.

“Just give in,” he said, “Just give in to me. I know you want to, my pet.”

“N… no.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “You do. There’s no point in fighting what we both know you want. What you need.”

“I don’t need you!”

“Yes you do,” he growled, “You just need to give into your desires and I will teach you to obey. Pets like you need discipline.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know what is best for you,” he continued, “I know what you need.”

Zemo roughly added another finger and our hands flew to his shoulders. You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from moaning. Zemo removed his hand from your neck and pulled your lip free. He looked at you lips for a moment before leaning forward and capturing them in a rough and bruising kiss.

You tried to struggle free but Zemo firmly tangled a hand in your hair and kept you close against him. You refuse to open your mouth for him and Zemo growled against your lips. In response to your refusal to submit he brushed his thumb over your clit again. You gasped in pleasure and Zemo seized the opportunity to fully dominate you. You closed your eyes and tried to pretend that this wasn’t happening, praying that someone would find you and save you, but Zemo was making it impossible. He broke the kiss and placed a soft, mockingly loving, kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“Disobedient pets need training,” he said, “Time and patience is necessary but don’t worry,” his lips brushed along yours again, “We’re going to have all the time in the world.”

Your eyes flew open as Zemo added a third finger. Your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders and you collapsed against him feeling yourself get close. Zemo’s free hand stroked your hair and he whispered against your ear,

“There is no shame in giving into your desires. To take what you crave with the one person who can give it to you. I understand you, know you, better than anyone else. That boy you called your lover wasn’t fit for you.”

“He wasn’t… we never…”

“Good,” he said, “I would hate it if someone else touched you before me. It means that I can shape you into my perfect little pet. Keep you tied up and needy just for me. I’ll have you constantly on edge until you are begging for me. Tied up in my, sorry,” he chuckled darkly, “Our bed. By the end you’ll be pleading for me. You will come to me willingly or I’ll keep you bound and naked until you do.”

Your breathing became heavier as you felt the orgasm build up in you. Zemo exhaled deeply through his nose and rested his head on your shoulder.

“You’ve been a very bad little pet,” he said, “And I did think that deserves a punishment don’t you?”

You let out a cry of frustration as Zemo roughly pulled his fingers out of you. You sobbed at you lack of release and Zemo stroked your head in mock comfort. His hand moved from the back of your head to you chin as he forced you to look into his eyes. You wishes you had the strength to look away but you didn’t. You felt yourself started to fall and Zemo’s arm encircled around your waist and held you close to his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, “Behave yourself and I won’t have to do that again. Soon you’ll learn how beneficial it will be to give in and forget about your concerns. It will just be you, me and our perfect family.”

You tried to push Zemo away again, the thought of being forced to have a family with him renewing your determination to get away. However, the sharp pain in your neck swiftly put a stop to your escape attempt. Your limbs started to feel like they were made out of lead and all you were able to do was collapse as your knees buckled under you. Zemo held you in his arms and gently cradled you as darkness took over. Just as you slipped into unconsciousness the last thing you saw was Zemo’s smiling face and soft whispers of how you were going to be perfect for him.