#stream modern dread

[tombfriend]

mirror tool my beloved

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 11

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, angst. kissing. 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is NOT the last chapter!!!! fret not friends there's still more after this

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You wake up the next morning, the sky still grey and the ground wet from the torrential downpour that hit overnight. Since it’s Saturday, you don’t have to rush to get anywhere and you take your time getting ready, knowing how intense you expect today to be.

You step back into your room, hair still wet from the shower, and grab your phone to text Yuji. You know you need to see him and have this conversation, but a part of you is still dreading it. As you turn it towards you, the screen suddenly lights up.

Incoming call: “YuYu”

A soft smile forms on your face - you two truly are connected. You answer and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Hey,” his voice comes through the line. It’s lower than normal - maybe he just woke up?

“Hey,” you respond sweetly.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you. To you it feels calm, until you hear something from the other end. It almost sounds like Yuji…sniffling?

“Can you…shit…can you come over?” his voice wavers.

Something is wrong.

“Yeah I-I’ll be right over,” you respond, unsure of what exactly is going on with Yuji, but knowing he needs you.

“Okay,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper.

Before you can get another word out, the call abruptly ends.

Something is very, very wrong.

Throwing on the nearest clothes, you practically sprint out the door.

You finally find yourself back outside the familiar door to Yuji’s dorm. Your hair is still damp, as are your clothes as you rushed through the misty sprinkles hanging in the air on your way over, not caring to grab an umbrella on your way out. Raising your hand to knock, the door opens before you can get to it.

You come face to face with Yuji for the first time since your fight. His pink hair is disheveled, and he’s wearing nothing but wrinkled sweatpants. Your gaze lands on his face: eyes puffy, nose red, tears slowly falling down his cheeks. The sight nearly breaks your heart.

He says nothing as you step into the room, his shoulders slumped as he lets the door fall closed behind you.

“Yuji,” you whisper, unsure of what to say to him.

Still silent, he leans forward and wraps his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. You return the hug, hands stroking the skin along his back. The gentle touch breaks something inside of him - you feel his whole body begin to shake, sobs breaking through his voice as wet tears land on your shoulder.

“I’m-” he tries to say through choked sobs, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you try to comfort him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yu.”

Hearing your nickname for him, he lets out a cry against your body as he shoves his head into your neck. “I…fuck…I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Continuing to trace gentle lines over his back, you try to figure out how to better comfort the boy weeping in your arms. Before you can say anything, another sob racks his body.

“I lied,” he blurts out. “I lied about Nobara,” he says softly, voice still wavering.

“I know,” you whisper.

“Wait,” he slowly pulls away from you for a second so he’s looking directly at you, his voice raspy. His eyes are red as tears continue to stream down his face and chin. “You know?”

“Yeah, she sort of told me yesterday…” you trail off. “We ran into each other, and she recognized me, and she explained the situation with you, and-”

“And you’re not mad?” he questions, voice nearly a whimper.

“No,” you assure him. “I’m not mad.”

Upon hearing your words, he collapses into you again, arms holding you tighter than before as he continues to silently cry against your shoulder.

The two of you stay like this for a while, intertwined in embrace, until you feel Yuji’s breathing start to slow. Taking in slightly more steady breaths, he leans back to look at you again.

“I, um, thought I was going to lose you,” he explains, face still wet with tears. “This was the longest we’ve gone without talking to each other since we met, so I knew I fucked up pretty bad. Then Megumi told me you seemed off during class, and I just couldn’t handle knowing that I hurt you,” he sniffles.

“Yuji,” you hum, lifting one hand up to his cheek to brush away the fresh tears falling from his eyes, “you are never going to lose me.”

A soft smile pulls at the corners of his lips as he looks down at you with so much kindness in his eyes it makes you feel like your heart might burst.

You lean up to his face and gently kiss his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears. Moving down slightly, you hold your face in front of his. Instinctively, his arms pull you towards him as your eyes flutter closed. His lips press softly against yours, feeling the warmth of his skin against you.

Butterflies.

This moment, one that started so tragically, has become so perfect, so sweet, so everything. You can’t believe you lived this long without Yuji - although, now that you think about it, it didn’t really feel like you were living. When he wasn’t there, you didn’t feel like yourself, you didn’t even feel like a person. There is something inside you that connects you to him, and now you can’t deny it any longer.

Your lips finally part from his as you both pull back, looking silently into each others’ eyes.

“Yuji,” you whisper.

“Wait, before you say anything, I have to tell you something,” he says, lips brushing against yours. “I started asking you to practice all this stuff with me because I had feelings for you, but I was scared to say anything. I’ve felt like this for a long time, but I didn’t have the words to say it. Now, after this, after thinking I was going to lose you, I do.” He inhales, eyes meeting yours without wavering. “I love you.”

Your mouth opens slightly into a smile as you take in his words.

“You don’t have to say it back, because I can only imagine how hard this was for you, but I just had to tell you. I don’t want to live a life without you in it, one where you don’t know how I feel about you,” he says softly. “You’re my best friend, you’re the love of my life, you’re my everything.”

“Yuji,” you start again. “I love you too.”

His eyes look into yours, and you see it - you see the love he holds for you.

He pulls you into him again, your lips melding together as though they were made to be connected, as if every second they spent apart was the cruelest punishment the universe could devise. His body forms to fill in every curve and crevice of yours, your breath becoming shared as one.

This is it, you think, this is love.

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[y3ager]

WE OUTSIDE.

— a night you initially weren’t looking forward to ends in the best way imaginable.

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: high school au, modern au, marijuana and alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), mild cream pie. minors dni.

DESPITE HOW YOU refused it for months, here you stand in a mansion someone had the money and connections to reserve holding the worst position anyone can have on graduation night: designated driver.

you’re the coveted mom friend, the only one in the group with a level enough head and fear of, you know, dying to make sure you and your girls don’t end up on the morning news the following day. after weeks of promising that they wouldn’t be back home after walking across stage, here they all are enjoying one last night of partying before they all go their separate ways, to different universities and states, some of them never seeing each other again.

obviously you’re not one to knock someone else’s fun, but it’s just not your thing and you knew that with the first party you snuck out to. it’s loud, crowded, and smacking the ass of your friend or fighting your way to the front for a good view of it is only fun for the first 20 or so minutes. it’s three am and no one shows signs of stopping.

you nurse your cocktail of lemonade with a dash of pink whitney because it helps to have something in your hand. you stay off towards the back and hug the wall, watching your peers have fun and dreading when you inevitably have to shove 7 shitfaced girls into one car. three are horny drunks, one does nothing but cry by the end of the night, one more tends to get punchy…

you feel a solid body bump against yours and lurch forward a bit. “sorry!” you shout, but with the bass of the music and everyone’s yelling, they probably don’t even hear you.

“no, you’re fine..” all of a sudden you smell nothing but weed, enough to make your nose wrinkle a bit. he brandishes his blunt to you, obviously inviting you take a hit. that’s what all these parties are, people swapping blunts and taking sips out of bottles and repurposed polar pop cups.

“no, um, i’m good..” your better judgement starts to kick in, even though you’re probably the only person in the entire house using some right about now. it could be filled with god knows what, what if your job springs up a surprise drug test, you’re not supposed to take anything from a damn stranger!

a little voice in the very back of your head reminds you that this is your problem: playing it safe, keeping your head down, abstaining from doing anything even mildly reckless.

you reach your hand up and pluck the glowing blunt from the strange boy’s slender fingers and pop it between your glossed lips. a quick toke fills your lungs, streams out from your nose and makes you give out a quick cough. “thank you,” you say dumbly, honestly, as you pass it back to him. who the fuck says thank you after that? “sorry for the, uh.. gloss.”

“you’re fine,” he says again, popping the joint right back into his mouth, coconut flavored gloss from the beauty supply store be damned. you finally get a chance to really look at him, the flashing strobe lights momentarily illuminating his face. tanned skin, green eyes tinted just a smidge red, and dark brown hair pulled back into a bun, a light sheen of sweat making the baby hairs stick to his forehead. he nods to your cup. “what’s that?”

“that.. oh! oh.” you look down at your cup, suddenly feeling awkward for staring so intently. “lemonade with.. uh.. pink whitney.” you realize how close he is to you, nudged forward by the many bodies and his interest in what you’re saying, and it makes you sweat. “do you want some?” looking back up, you hold the cup out to him. “it’s not that strong, i have to drive later…”

he shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pushing the drink back into your bubble. “keep it.” he looks down at you, taking in your brown eyes framed by your freshly done lash extensions, accented with a thin strip of one of your school’s colors, your cropped shirt and skin tight biker shorts, comfortable but exposing a lot of your gleaming brown skin. “designated driver, huh? your friends sound mean dumping you with that job. you having fun?”

you shrug, heating up even more under his hungry gaze. he’s so fine, if you look fast enough, a tongue ring is getting caught by the flashing lights when he opens his mouth to speak. “it’s okay, i don’t like getting shit faced, and, you know…” you look off to your left to see that four of your friends have successfully made it onto the stage. “it’s fun watching them have fun.” when you look back at him, he’s holding his blunt back out, and you take it again without even being told to. “thank you.” you blow out another cloud of smoke and pass it back to him. “it could.. be a little quieter, i guess?” another body passing through makes you lurch forward. “with less people?”

he laughs again and holds his joint between his teeth. “you wanna leave then?”

your inner mom comes back out again, and you look to your left, scanning for your friends. you’re supposed to stick together, you have to keep an eye out on them, they’re all supposed to know where everyone is in case anything crazy pops off. “i.. i shouldn’t leave my friends…” you shuffle unsurely on your feet, “i don’t know.”

“text them,” he offers. then he points off into the general direction when he assumes they’re at, based on where you’re looking. “or go tell one of them. we’re just going up to a room upstairs. they’ll be okay, and you’ll be okay. we’ll come back down when you’re ready.”

fuck it. you think. you whip your phone out of your purse and type up a quick message in the groupchat that they probably won’t check, but at least you told them. ‘going upstairs for a bit’ “okay,” you say as it sends. “let’s go.”

thirty minutes later, the blunt is completely gone and the stranger—no, eren’s tongue is deep in your mouth, working against yours while his hand holds your face firmly in place. your manicured hands have pulled his hair out of its haphazard bun with all your tugging and pulling and you’re doing everything you can to hide your wanton moans. he’s just such a good kisser…

eren pulls away slightly to look down into your glazed over eyes, the sound of your blood rushing and your heart pounding rivaling the sound of the music booming downstairs. “pretty girl,” he mumbles. your kissing has long left your gloss awry, and he rubs an errant mark away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “feelin’ good?”

“yeah,” you whisper breathlessly, his kiss swollen lips calling you back in and he laughs as your mouth meets his again. either he pushes you down into some stranger’s bed, or you pull him on top of you, but now you’re on your back and he’s looking down at you, with one hand trailing down, down, down…

and you’re doing nothing to stop him.

deftly, eren pulls off your biker shorts, and catches your thigh before you can instinctively close them off from his sight. “so fucking wet already…” he remarks as he pulls your panties down until they eventually fall down to your ankles. you kick them off, and brazenly, boldly, spread your brown lips for him, the white of your long french tip acrylics a beautiful contrast to your chestnut skin and perfect pink center.

“fuck, ___,” eren groans, mouth almost watering at the sight. he wants to devour you so bad. “you’re trying to kill me. you were so shy earlier. that changes when you wanna get fucked, huh?” your whimper at his last comment makes him grin. “now hold these up.” he commands, reference your legs as he pushes your knees up to your chest, prostrating yourself before him for his perusal. he’s laying down now, his aching crotch now rubbing against the bed in a welcome wave of pleasure.

the noises eren begins to make on your pussy are downright pornographic, the spitting, smacking, slurping, feasting on your drooling cunt as if it’s his last meal. his tongue is everywhere, going from swirling your clit around to dragging against your inner lips, that damned tongue ring never far behind. it’s nearly too much for your poor cunt, but the focused glare he gives you with his blown out green eyes deters you from bringing your legs down and diminishing the access he has to you.

“e-eren! oh, god!” the sound of your wetness makes your ears burn in embarrassment, it’s just so fucking messy. you catch a sight of the mess you’ve made on his chin when he momentarily comes up for air, only to dive right back in. his plump, pillowy lips latch firmly on your throbbing clit, making your eyes roll back into your head and a shaky moan escape your own lips. “eren, please..!” you writhe against the sheets, his expert mouth overwhelming, you’re not a virgin but, god, if he keeps up.. “e-eren, eren, i’m…!”

“c’mon, baby,” he mumbles between suckling, open mouthed kisses, and drags of his skillful tongue. “give it t’ me, don’t be scared. i gotcha.”

his words make your greedy hole pulse around nothing, and a mix of a moan and a week sob escapes your throat. thighs spasming, you pointlessly attempt to close your legs again only for him to continue holding them open as he drowns your cunt in sloppy kisses, determined to savor every last drop.

“good girl,” his sinful voice rumbles against your core. “good, good fucking girl…” as he pulls away, that tongue darts out to sweep up the last remnants of your heavenly juices. “c’mere..” those strong hands grab at you hips pulling your pliant body towards him near the edge of the bed. “y’ready?”

“yeah, yeah…” emotions flood through your head, lust, need, want, you’re ready to beg for him inside you if he wants you to. faintly, you hear the sound of clothing hitting the floor, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “‘ren, please..” he taps his leaking, blushing tip against your pulsing clit one, two, three times to make you sigh. “please, please..”

“y’doin’ all that beggin’…” now eren’s easing in, hissing at the feeling of you gripping him so tight, walls soft and wet. he throws his head back at the new sensation of your cunt greedily sucking him in, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and his tanned fingers tightening in a bruising grip on your hips. “fuck,” he groans under his breath, the underlying whine in his voice makes your body grow hot. “fucking- relax, or-”

“oh, g-god..” you stutter, feeling full, and hot, and greedy. “‘s so.. big, eren.” your manicured hand rests against his toned torso in a fruitless attempt to stop him, but his hips meet yours and the two of you whine in unison. “fuck!”

“quit that. take it.” eren swats your hand away from his stomach and tosses your legs up to place them on his shoulders, effectively treating you like a little doll for him to fuck on. slowly, easily, he pulls his hips back only to push them forward again, progressively beginning to get drunk off the feeling of your perfect cunt. “so fucking good,” he mutters. “so, so fucking good.”

the slow drag of his cock against your walls begins to have the same intoxicating effect on you, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and whine, low and wanton as you clamp down onto him. you open your eyes, which you didn’t even realize were closed, and stare deep into his green-gray eyes. oh, you’re screwed now.

“fuck yes,” he huffs. eren buries his face in your neck, biting, sucking, leaving hot kisses on your damp as he chases his high and quickly begins to bring to your second. the feeling of your acrylics clawing and digging into the skin of his back only spurs him on more, the music downstairs secondary to the dizzying sound of skin slapping against. “‘s your dick, baby, cum on it for me.”

and you do, shame be damned as your back arches off from the tousled sheets and cry out his name, letting any poor passerby know exactly what’s going on just feet away from the firmly closed door, and exactly who’s fucking you just that good. eren bottoms out with a low groan that reverberates from his chest, a breathless chuckle passing his lips as his cum shoots in deep only to spill back out when he withdraws.

“pretty girl,” he calls out, pulling you out of your fucked out daze. one hand reaches up to wipe the drool from the side of your mouth while the other rubs at your spent, used cunt. your eyes roll back down to look demurely back at his.

“you got another one in you?”

a/n: obligatory plot but this has been in the drafts since january 2022…… it’s time to release her 😭 could i have updated it from high school grad night yeah i could’ve but mannnn…. just relive them days chile

[haziwritesstuff]

the happiest girl

But tonight, I'll be the happiest girl in the world. You'll see like it never happened.

Modern! Aemond x reader Wordcount | 1.8k Warnings | Aegon's a cheating bastard, sadness, mostly fluff.

Aegon took nothing in life serious. And your relationship with him… Was just one of those things. You loved him and you believed he loved you, to some degree at least. He just happens to love himself and his own needs more.

You were staring at the message you received on Instagram from some girl. She was claiming that she had a relationship with him. Part of you wanted to scold her but you decided against it. You always had some suspicion about it, he came home a lot later, he didn’t look at you the way he used to. Somewhere, somehow you saw it coming. But it still hurts. It feels like your heart was shattered in a million pieces and there was no one to pick them up. The apartment you shared with him did not feel the same anymore. What once was a place of happiness and comfort, is now a place of dread. Because that is what you felt right now, you dread to see him. But you had to know. Time was ticking by slowly as you were waiting for him to come home.

Finally you heard him stumble in. He wasn’t aware of anything… It was like every other day, but this one was different. You could feel a sense of foreboding, almost as if you expected it to happen, but it still hit you like a wave of bitter salt water.

As if you were drowning, struggling to keep your head above water. You saw him stumble in, drunk and unaware, yet you didn't feel rage or despair, just a deep sense of sadness and disappointment. He came towards you and sat down on the couch, still not aware that you were aware of his affair. "Hi there love," He tried to kiss you. "Don't." Your voice was cold as ice, and a chill ran through your body. He looked at you with a drunken grin and giggled. "Come on girl, it's just a little bit of fun. Lighten up!" "Aegon I know about her." Aegon's face went blank. He sat up straight and looked at you with a cold and emotionless gaze. "Her? What are you talking about?" "The woman you've been sleeping with. I've seen the messages. Don't give me any bullshit right now, I know the truth, and you know it too." Aegon swallowed – you were not supposed to find out. "I expected more from you. I thought you were better than this. But you're obviously just a coward who can't even keep his pants on. How could you do this to me, to our relationship? I trusted you and you broke it. You know what? I can't stand the sight of you right now. I'm going out. Don't expect me back."

It was cold outside, but the cold air felt refreshing after the suffocating atmosphere inside the apartment. You walked to the nearest bus stop, your tears streaming down your cheeks. You felt heartbroken and angry, and you didn't know where to go or who to turn to. All you wanted was to be held and consoled, to be taken care of and loved. But that seemed like an impossible dream, now more than ever. You wished you could turn back time and undo everything that had happened, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You suddenly felt your phone buzzing. Aegon sent you a text message, "Please come home. I want to talk. We can fix this." You read the text message and hesitated. On the one hand, you wanted to believe that he was really sorry and would change his ways. But on the other, you knew that deep down inside, he had been cheating on you for a very long time, so no matter what he said, nothing could really change that. And in all honesty you had nothing left to say. You sent him a text message back, "Don't contact me again. I'm not coming home. We're done." He responded with the usual, "I'm sorry, I promise I can change. Just give me another chance, I can't lose you. I will do anything for you."

"You're not the one who gets to cry." Tears started to fall again. You turned off your phone because you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses and lies. You stood at the bus stop, trying to calm yourself down, but all you could do was cry.

You wanted to have a drink to numb your pain and clear your head. You walked to a nearby bar and walked inside, taking a seat at the bar. You waited for the bartender to come over and order a glass of wine. “Put it on my tab.” A voice behind you spoke. Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw Aemond. You looked at him for a moment, surprised that he was here and that he was the one who offered to pay for your drink. "Aemond... What are you doing here?" He smiled at you, "I was just here having a drink with some friends when I saw you. I saw that you looked troubled, so I decided to come over and see if you're alright. I didn't think I'd see you here..." “Oh ehm… Aegon and I… We broke up…” Aemond's expression changed, becoming more empathetic. "I see... I'm so sorry to hear that. It must've been really hard for you. Do you need someone to talk to?" He didn't seem surprised, not at all. Aemond took a step closer to you and put his right arm around your back. You could feel the warmth of his body and it felt calming. He asked, "Can I tell you something?” You nod at him, you've always liked Aemond. He was different but in a good way.

He took a sip from his drink and looked at you. "I know we've been friends for a long time, but I can't lie to you. I've always had feelings for you. I know that's not something you probably want to hear right now, but I couldn't just keep it to myself. I understand though if you're not interested in me the same way, but if you will, let me comfort you, just this one time. You need someone right now, and I'd like to be the one you turn to."

You were speechless. Aemond continued, "I know it's unfair to confess my love for you in this situation, but I didn't want to miss this opportunity. I've always had a huge crush on you, and maybe this was the universe's way of letting us know that we needed each other. I know this may not be the right time for us to begin a relationship, but if you're open to that idea, I would be more than happy to be here for you and support you through this difficult time."

It took you a while to progress all of that information. You finally find the courage to speak up, "Aemond, it's really kind of you to say all of that. I can't say I'm not tempted to take you up on your offer, but I'm still a bit shocked by everything that happened. I'm just not sure if I'm ready for a relationship right now, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be cared for and consoled. Could... could we spend some time together, just for tonight?"

Aemond smiled warmly at you, "Absolutely. I totally understand that you're in a fragile state right now, and the most important thing is for you to heal and move on from this situation. I don't want to pressure you into anything you're not ready for. But I do want to be there for you and help you through this difficult time. Is it okay if I sit here with you for a little while? I promise I won't force any unwanted advances on you."

You suddenly realized that if you'd asked Aemond out, instead of allowing Aegon to charm you, everything would have been different. You would never have gone through the heartbreak and disappointment, and you would have had someone who truly loved and respected you all this time. The thought of what could've been started to make you feel a bit down, but Aemond's presence always had a comforting effect on you. You couldn't have asked for a better person to comfort you in this very moment.

"Tell me something funny, Aemond. I'm in desperate need of some laughter." "Hmm, something funny..." Aemond thought for a moment, and then he smiled and said, "What do you get when you cross a banana with an elephant?" "Oh god... I didn't think you'd actually try to tell me a joke!" "Well, I can't say I'm a professional comedian, but I thought it would help lighten the mood. So, what do you get when you cross a banana with an elephant?" You had such a hard time keeping yourself serious. Aemond wasn't a natural funny person but seeing him try this way... Made you feel a certain way. "Just wait for it..." Aemond looked at you with a smirk, enjoying making you laugh. "Okay, ready? Here's the punchline - you get an 'eleph-nana'!"

And for the first time in a while the tears coming from your eyes weren't from hurt or sadness, they were from laughter. The two of you sat at the bar for a while, laughing and joking and enjoying each other's company. After a while, Aemond gently placed his hand on your arm. "Would you mind if we left the bar and went somewhere more private?" Your eyes lit up when he private, "I'd love that."

You could feel the cool air on your face and you saw the stars in the sky, they were exceptionally bright tonight. Aemond took you by the hand and led you to a secluded spot, far from any noise or distractions. He stopped in front of you and looked into your eyes. "Can I ask you something?" "Yeah, you can ask me anything." "Can I kiss you?" You shouldn't want it but you wanted it so badly, you wanted him to make you feel again. “I… Yes.” You whispered. The moment you said that, Aemond quickly leaned forward and kissed you deeply. You could feel his lips against yours and the warmth of his body. It felt amazing, as if all the pain from before had just disappeared. His hands caressed your face and neck as you embraced one another. You were completely swept up in the moment, and there was nothing else besides the two of you. You could feel the rush of hormones and emotions, your heart was beating fast and your breathing was shallow. The feeling was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more. Aemond pulled you closer and his lips pressed against yours with more passion. Your hands ran through his hair and you held him tightly, as if you didn't want the kiss to ever end. Aemond broke the kiss, "Would you like to come to my apartment?" Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes and nodded your head, unable to speak.

But tonight, I’ll be the happiest girl in the world. You’ll see like it never happened.

[quoththeowl31]

Lets have some Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey fun!

The Young Man:

I thought I was alone in the manor only to find another reading the diaries. He jumped when I cleared my throat and turned, blinding me with the light from his helmet.

The light looked to be far more modern than what is used by today's standards and it easily obscured the man's features.

"What are you doing here?" Was all I could ask.

"I could ask you the same!" His accent wasn't from around here. There was a drawl to it. American? From what I could tell he was young with dark hair and he was ready for a fight given his body language. I have to de-escalate.

"Look I'm just here investigating a missing girl. I'm a private detective."

"Missing girl eh? I've heard rumors this place swallows people up like a hungry beast. Still how do I know you're not pullin' my leg? You ain't some squatter, right?"

My turn...

"Well what about you? What exactly are you doing here? You look like you're here to loot what valuables are left here."

"I don't take kindly to that type of accusation, Detective. If you must know, I'm an Archeologist and here for my own kind of investigation."

Archeologist?

"What could an Archeologist possibly be investigating in an old manor?"

He huffed.

"A lot of people say that this manor is cursed. I'm not necessarily one to believe in supernatural curses; usually when a place is said to be cursed, it's a warning about what natural dangers are encountered there; venomous reptiles or insects, hazardous environments or just a way to scare looters off. But here...there might be something to that."

He pulls something out of his pocket; a photograph of a strange symbol etched into the wall of a room.

"See here? Before the basement was turned into...that...it used to be a darkroom for developing photographs. The Manor's owner at the time of this was a man named Joseph Desaulniers and from what I understand, he was obsessed with capturing souls in photographs and dabbled in occult means to do so. There were symbols like these etched into the walls of the basement and in various locations around the manor grounds."

These symbols...they were familiar but I couldn't place them to any known ancient civilization. I hand back the photos to the Archeologist.

"These symbols...where are they from?"

"From what I've discovered they're from a time before the Romans but there's so little left I've been tracking what little leads I could find about them..." The pause is palpable, I feel as though the sense of dread about the manor has only grown stronger.

"Remember how I said this manor is like a hungry beast? I've managed to decode some of the symbols. They point to a ritual that grants good fortune to those who invoke it. The thing is a constant stream of fresh blood is needed..."

"Fresh blood...you mean like..."

"Yeah...sacrifice."

[lokisprettygirl]

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 2 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

Summary: Survival on your own becomes difficult but at least you're not alone.

Warning: 18+ death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

Three weeks, it has been three weeks since you had been stranded on that forsaken island with Daemon and no rescue has come looking for you two. You were marking everyday by scribbling the numbers with stones. Each morning you awoke with a deep sense of dread, hoping with all your heart that this nightmare would finally end.

Looking after yourselves on the island wasn't easy, as you were constantly fighting for survival. Both of you were barely surviving on eating fruits in the day and occasional fish that Daemon managed to catch, which was never enough to fulfill your hunger for the night.

Things seemed to just get worse everyday. On the 4th day Daemon had suggested that you two needed to take care of personal hygiene, like brushing your teeths and bathing. This wasn't the type of conversation you wanted to have with the guy you had a huge crush on but you were both emptying your bowels in the woods while the other one remained a few feet away to safeguard so the shame was the first thing to get swept up in the waters.

Your hair was starting to get matted and you feared you'd have to cut it all off if by chance you'd end up getting rescued. If you'd end up getting rescued.

However you had watched a nature documentary where the man suggested using mango tree barks as dental twigs, sure it didn't do the best job but it did something to keep your teeth and mouths clean.

All of those things were terrifying of course but none of it seemed as horrible as what you were about to go through soon. You were close to the beginning of your menstrual cycle, it was one less thing Daemon didn't have to worry about you thought.

Within the first two days on the island, you and Daemon made the difficult decision to remove the clothing of the people who had perished, it felt disrespectful sure but you both needed it, you washed those clothes in the sea water to get rid of blood as much as you could and you were saving some of it for the hell week, bleeding wasn't your concern though, it was the deathly cramps you were about to suffer.

“Here..eat it” Daemon handed you a banana before he sat down next to you. They had ripened. You looked at the blue shirt he was wearing today as it was from one of the bodies. His hair was all messed up, same as yours, and he had grown a thick stubble which actually made him look really rugged. As your eyes met, you realized that despite the grueling circumstances, you had somehow maintained a sense of normalcy, a familiar comfort in the midst of chaos.

On the 12th day he got one of his migraine attacks and there was nothing to soothe him from the pain and sensory overload.

Well that was one thing you thought you didn't have to worry about.

At night while he was wailing in pain you took him near the sea and soaked a piece of cloth in the cold water to put it over his head order to bring him some relief, then you caressed his head until he had fallen asleep, once he was asleep you stepped a few feet away from him but stayed close enough where you could see him. And then you cried, you cried and cried until you weren't able to cry anymore, you were beginning to lose hope everyday, the tears were streaming down your face as you acknowledged the bleakness of your situation. The realization of the harsh reality of the island and the possibility that rescue will never come weighed heavily on your heart.

Despite continuously scanning the skies for the past three weeks, neither of you had spotted even the slightest hint of a helicopter. In a desperate attempt to attract attention, you had gathered large rocks to form the word “HELP” on the beach. However, the days passed by without a single rescue mission. You had a feeling that they weren't even looking for you. Perhaps they thought both of you had succumbed to death like the other passengers.

“Oh god it's happening” you grabbed your stomach as you felt the first churn and you felt the blood dribbling down so you quickly got up and ran towards the shack to get the cloth. Daemon sighed as he realized you were going to be in additional pain today, this hasn't been easy for you two. After all, nobody truly prepares you for a situation like this where you are at the mercy of nature on a remote island, stripped of all your comforts and basic necessities.

When you came back after a few minutes, it was turning dark already so Daemon had got the fire ready and also prepared the bed of leaves for you so you immediately laid down on it.

“What can I do darling” he asked you softly as he caressed your head so you groaned in response.

“Take my uterus” he couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. In an attempt to alleviate your suffering, he heated a coconut shell over the fire and wrapped it in a piece of cloth before placing it gently on your belly. The gesture would have made you bawl your eyes out if you weren't already crying from the pain. You always felt as if your pain was on the number ten but you knew most women felt that way.

“God i wanna die..I wanna die daemon..i am done..i can't ..I can't..just kill me I'm done” you began to cry profusely so he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“You're not going to die my brave girl..I'll get you through this alright” his tone was gentle and reassuring.

“It hurts so bad ..”

“I know..i know” he really wished he could have eased your pain somehow and then he remembered something.

“Ummmm may I offer a suggestion?” he pulled away to look at you, your cheek was soaked with tears.

“Don't suggest sex, we can't have sex” you mumbled between your cries so he smiled.

“I almost forgot you are off pills”

You hummed in agreement as he said that. You didn't want to have sex with him to prevent yourself from falling in love with him, the thought of the pills hadn't even crossed your mind “I can still do something” he mumbled as he scooted closer to you so you scooted away.

“What are you doing?” You asked him so he wrapped his arm around your waist, his fingers gently caressed circles on your skin.

“Just trying to help” he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, even though his mind was racing and he really wanted to kiss you, he went with his better judgment and refrained.

In the last three weeks both of you had seen each other be at your worsts, physically and mentally, and the old Daemon that had never suffered through such a turmoil, for him perhaps seeing a woman stripped down to her primal nature in every possible way might not have evoked such emotions but this new Daemon that had suffered and was lucky enough to have this gorgeous brave woman by his side on this journey, he only found himself being more drawn towards you every passing day.

Lily still crossed his mind every damn day, he was still in love with her but a part of him resented her as well because he couldn't get over that part where their lives were in imminent danger and she didn't look for him.

“Daemon” you whispered as he unbuttoned your pants and his hand slipped inside, at first he slowly rubbed his fingers over your clothed mound and the gesture was enough to make you feel aroused.

Even amidst the excruciating pain you couldn't deny how attracted you were to him, the beard was awakening something in you and you weren't ready for it. You clenched your thighs around his hand to feel the pressure because the underwear and the cloth you were using as a pad was hindering the sensation from building.

Tears rolled down your eyes as you still felt the pain but he was definitely distracting you as well as he could, you weren't even sure if the orgasm was going to help but you really needed the distraction.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek and it made your breath hitch in your chest.

“Can I touch you without the barrier?” He whispered in your ear so you nodded, at this point you were done being civil about it, it's not as if he hadn't fucked you once already during your periods.

He brought his other hand over your head and caressed your scalp while his fingers slipped into your underwear, you gasped as he used his index and middle fingers to rub across the insides of your labia, thumb played with your clit simultaneously, your breath quickened and fingers clenched around his biceps as the sensation began to build slowly.

"Have you done this before?’ you asked him but your voice came out in breathless whispers which immediately rushed the blood to his cock, it's been three weeks of no release for him as we. He didn't remember going this long without a sexual release ever since he had turned thirteen.

“Mmmm i have pleasured women before darling” he mumbled softly and you gasped as his middle finger slipped inside you. Curling his digit inside he looked for your sweet spot, his long slender fingers were one of the reasons he was so good at pleasing women using just his hands.

“No I mean like this” you murmured softly so he shook his head,

“No..i had sex with lily while she bled but she never allowed me to touch her with my fingers”

“Ohhh okay” you whispered and your nails dug into his skin as his digit brushed over that spot that made you see millions of stars on a very clear night.

“Is it weird?” you asked him as you moaned so he leaned down to kiss your neck,

“Mmmhm but I like it.. I like weird, i like touching you like this when you're going through something so natural”

His thumb played with your clit while he pumped two fingers in and out, didn't take you long enough to cum around him, it has been three weeks since you had touched yourself..

He had left you gasping and shaking with that orgasm. Much to your shock and relief the cramp had subsided, it was still there but the pain had gone down from ten to five almost immediately.

“Thank you..thank you so much” you mumbled softly as you caressed his cheek so he leaned down to kiss your forehead and pulled his hand out of you to go wash them off the blood. When he came back you noticed the clear bulge in his pants, you were hoping things won't get weird between you two now, he was still hung up on Lily and you had learned that important lesson the last time.

You really had learned your lesson but he had done something nice for you, something sweet and thoughtful and–

“Do you want me to touch you?” You whispered in his ear as he laid down next to you so he turned his head to look at you. You had helped him go through the migraine attack he has suffered so he really just wanted to help you the same.

“Didn't do it for the exchange” he turned his body towards you as he propped himself on his elbow so you wrapped hand around his neck to caress his nap, you both had been cuddling each other for warmth since you got here so the position didn't really seem foreign.

“I know…I just..you must need it too”

He sucked in a breath as your hand slipped down and you didn't waste a second before you pulled him out of the confinement of his pants, he was hard and leaking as you had assumed.

You brought your hand up and looked at him confidently,

“Spit”

The way you said the word made him feel weak in the knees, there was no room for argument or discussion anymore nor did he want it. He grabbed your palm and brought it closer to his mouth to dribble down his spit which you used as a lube to stroke him slowly.

Perhaps you'd have never done this in your normal life, you never would have felt so bold and confident but here on this island, far away from the civilization, there were no rules for any of you. In nature you found yourself to be an extension of it.

“That feel okay?” You mumbled softly as you pumped his cock up and down slowly and all he could respond with was a moan and the clenching of his jaw. It felt more than okay, it felt amazing. His mouth kept opening as the pleasure built slowly, he looked like a fish out of water as you increased the pace ever so slowly.

Shallow breaths heated up quickly as he was driven to the edge just from a few strokes of your skilled hand, he never imagined you had it in you, when he met you for the first time for some reason he thought of you as a sweet, shy prudish girl but you kept surprising him with your actions.

Loud grunt spilled from his throat as he came, his cum splattered all between you two but you didn't mind it at all, you didn't care.

He panted heavily as he tried to recover from the mind numbing orgasm, for a moment he had forgotten where he was, for a moment he just felt as if he was on a beach fooling around with a beautiful girl, you had made him escape his mind and he was afraid he'd get addicted to that feeling.

No words were spoken as you cleaned yourselves with the sea water but there was no awkwardness whatsoever between you two either, once you both returned you took your usual spot on the leaves.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” You mumbled so he hummed in response.

“Why did you and Lily break up?” he sighed as he heard her name.

“Long story short, we had been together for a long time, we were eighteen when we first met, a few years into the relationship we broke up a few times when it got difficult but found our way back to each other every time..this time around was going to be the same”

Doesn't this negate the whole purpose of a relationship you wondered, aren't you supposed to ride through the hard times together?

“Doesn't it bother you? Letting go of the girl you love?” confusion was visible in your voice, you didn't want to judge their relationship but it just didn't feel right.

“It does but I figured it would be better than losing her completely”

“Hmmmmmm”

“Are you feeling better?” He asked you so you nodded before you turned on your side and closed your eyes.

That night you woke up to a huge spider crawling on your body which immediately made you jump and scream from the top of your lungs, Daemon had no idea whether the spider was poisonous or not so he just grabbed a huge block of rock to end it's life which you weren't really proud of, the island was their home and you two were the ones intruding.

There was a spider bite on your leg which made him worry, he asked you if you were feeling okay and you just nodded in response, the bit mark stung but you felt fine. However Daemon didn't go to sleep that night, he was watching you like a hawk, fearing that you'd die and leave him all alone here.

The next morning when you woke up he hugged you as warmly as he could before you two got on with your day.

The mornings somehow seemed shorter than the nights and everyday when you woke up, daemon took you into the woods to grab freshwater from the river, in four weeks you had encountered snakes, countless of bugs and spiders, he had suggested to eat snakes when he wasn't able to catch a fish but you preferred to starve and die than put a snake in your mouth.

His will to survive was stronger than yours, he had people he wanted to go back to and you had family as well but everyday was making you more and more hopeless, you weren't as strong as him. You kept thinking about your next menstrual cycle arriving and the thought made you shudder, something would eventually kill you and you knew that.

“Why are you so quiet?” He asked you as he sat down next to you, you were halfway into the sea water so he joined you.

“I am losing hope daemon, i know you don't want to hear that but I am losing hope and my sanity everyday”

You hadn't seen any helicopter flying over you yet and you didn't think you were going to either.

“You're not alone in feeling this way okay?” He mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you, both of you had lost a considerable amount of weight in the past two months which was given as you were somehow surviving on fruits and occasional fish but your appetite had decreased as well.

“What will we do if they never come?” your eyes welled up as you questioned him.

“Then we will be here, just like this, we will make a home here and survive as long as we can.. I'll build a house for you from the scratch if I have to”

The moment he said that you broke down and hugged him as tightly as you could. That's when he cupped your cheeks between his palms and kissed you briefly before he pulled away to look at you, then he leaned into you to kiss you deeply this time, the last time you had kissed him was when you had sex on that drunken night.

However you didn't have time to even relish the kiss or think about what it meant to any of you because you heard it, you heard the loud sound of a helicopter whirling in the sky. Daemon jumped up, frantically waving his arms about, trying to signal the helicopter. His actions were desperate and urgent. You wished you had stayed awake for the moment where they came to rescue you both but the relief and shock pushed your already weak body over the edge and you passed out immediately.

However when your eyes flutter open next you were all alone on the beach and Daemon wasn't there. He was gone.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

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[zhongrin]

unconvincing

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ modern!au, formerdelinquent!zhongli, professor!zhongli

◇ a/n ◇ this au has me in a chokehold i swear

part 1 ⬙ part 2 ⬙ part 3

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli wore gloves now.

you presume he noticed that you saw his scars and how they aided you in connecting the dots regarding his identity, and so he chooses to cover them up.

well, that’s too bad. you think he has quite the pretty hands. you wonder, had you been brave enough back then, would you have been able to hold his younger self’s hand too? would his hands be smaller than they are now? would it have had the same deliciously protruding veins and the little scars, like that bump near one of his knuckles on his-

“is the tea not to your liking?”

you blink and freeze upon a familiar set of ambers staring you down. caught off guard, your cheeks heat up rapidly and you duck your head in favor of setting down the teacup a little too harshly against the plastic table of the staff’s break room. you feel guilty, like a child who just stole a forbidden candy, but you force your voice to sound normal as you settle your palms on your lap, gripping the material of your clothes tight.

“o-oh no, it’s great! uh- this is darjeeling, right?”

“ah, you recognize the taste? yes. these are the second flush leaves, and so if you noticed there’s a very distinct muscatel aroma-”

morax- no, zhongli launches into an explanation over the harvesting process of this specific darjeeling tea leaves, and you can’t help but drown yourself in the allure of his voice. you remember it being slightly a little more high-pitched than this, although it was rougher around its edges and delivered with a mostly stoic facade back then. in the present time, his voice is smooth and clear, like the undeterred trickle of a clear stream sourced from the tallest mountains.

at these moments, it feels as if morax and zhongli were two different people altogether.

you would have never thought you would be able to sit at the same table as morax like this; not even in your wildest dreams. and it all started with a simple invite for a “tea break”, one day. to return the favor for the chocolate, he had said. you brought a few tea biscuits along, and before you could dread the awkwardness that would result from your poor communication skill, zhongli had taken the mantle of the conversationalist. before you knew it, you were both so lost in sharing all the things you’ve done after high school with each other, you almost missed the recess-is-over bell.

despite almost being late to your classes, the next day, he told you he had procured new tea leaves for the both of you to enjoy. you could barely hold yourself back from jumping in excitement as you followed him to the same break room (huh, maybe that high school crush never really did left you completely). rinse and repeat, lo and behold, the “tea break” becomes a routine, and now both of your students know where to find you when they need to ask questions when the second recess comes by.

it’s not long before the young ones started using their young adult brains to concoct some theories about the two of you. you’re always together. you seem so close to each other in a way that other teachers can’t replicate. therefore, they’re quite sure there must be something going on between two of their favorite teachers.

“mx. [name], are you dating mr. zhongli?”

you cough and sputter at the sudden question that came out of nowhere. just five minutes ago, the girl had stopped you in the hallway to ask about the recent assignment you gave her class, so naturally, you indulged her questions and soothed her anxiety about not being able to complete it in time.

but to suddenly spring something like this on you??

“no, we are not. whatever makes you think so? now, if that's all-”

“but you’re always together! on recess and stuff… plus you walk home with each other too!” she looks up at you with innocent pair of doe eyes and gasps, “oh! is it because you're both already living together? that must be it!”

“no, no no no no! dear gods, you’ve got it all wrong!”

“then what is it?? mx! you’re hiding a secret from us!!”

well, yes, but no, you thought in frustration. you’re smart enough to know why zhongli does not want his past as morax revealed. and you’re now good enough friends-slash-coworkers that you want to prevent his career from being destroyed just because of the mistakes he made in his youth. so you choose to avoid answering the real question.

running away has always been one of your many talents, after all.

“our relationship is strictly professional.”

“but-”

“there is nothing else to be said.”

“aw, mx, come onnn-”

“is there an issue?”

your timing couldn’t be worse, you yell inwardly as a clueless zhongli enters the scene. with one sweeping look across the area, you can already tell the majority of the students are listening silently at the exchange. no doubt whatever transpires today will spread all over the student body by the end of the day.

you would know. you were just like them once upon a time.

“mr. zhongli!” the girl beams, eyes starry, as she glances at the two of you in interest, “i was just asking mx. [name] about your relationship!!”

“our… relationship?” the man repeats, blinking, a look of alarm crossing his face.

“yup! soooo…. are you dating or are you married? it’s got to be either one of the two, right?”

you resist the urge to hide your head in your hands or to fake a sudden dizzy spell right in the middle of the hallway. you expected zhongli to recoil in disgust. perhaps frown and sigh, before continuing to chide the student for her overly active imagination-

-but you never expected him to chuckle in amusement.

“my, what an honor. so, do you think we look good together?”

“not just me! everyone does!! we totally ship- i mean- we’re totally rooting for you!! wait… so is it really true?!”

“unfortunately, neither is the case,” zhongli says calmly, and he checks his wrists before giving the student a gentle smile, and an equally gentle nudge in the form of her name. “why don't you move along? i believe you have your drama club practice soon.”

“oh, shit! right! bye mx. [name], mr. zhongli-” she gives you both a devious grin, “mark my words, this isn’t over!”

“language!” he calls out as the young girl speeds away, before turning to you, “are you alright, [name]?”

“i- yes. just a little frazzled. that was… unexpected…,” you say as normally as possible when all you want to do is to grab his collar and shake him because what the hell was that response and what did he mean by ‘unfortunately’???

“i see. as luck would have it, i have some tea leaves with a calming effect on my personage. and there’s never a rule to never drink more than one type of tea in a day. how about partaking in an extra cup in my office?”

“…. only if i get to grade some assignments while we’re at it.”

“sounds like a plan.”

as zhongli leads you away from the scene with his hand on your back, with you musing about the preparation for the nearing school festival, a unanimous thought united the students who had been watching the scene.

they’re totally dating, at the very least.

literally how are they not married?

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon

[kvetchlandia]

Joe Rosenthal Allen Ginsberg at Lawrence Ferlinghetti's "City Lights" Bookstore, North Beach, San Francisco 1959

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.

The only water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--

--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem

and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past--

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--

corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,

leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

The grime was no man's grime but death and human locomotives,

all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--modern--all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown--

and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos--all these

entangled in your mummied roots--and you standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!

A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!

How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of your railroad and your flower soul?

Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!

And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!

So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,

and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,

--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

-- Allen Ginsberg, "Sunflower Sutra" 1955

[kun3ho141]

This image does not belong to me. All credit is due to its respective owner.

Inspiration: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: After accepting the fact that he'd never intertwine his life with another's, he crosses paths with you. Now, all he desires is to take your hand in marriage.

Word-Count: 1.1K

Warnings: None

☆ Reblog, Comment, and Like ☆

I do not permit others to translate or republish my works on this platform or any other A.I. program.

A/N: Have you seen the TikTok trend where military personnel highlight their partners or loved ones using one of Hoizer's songs? This trend actually inspired me, and I created a scenario based on it.

Thank you for reading!! ♡

Simon 'Ghost' Riley, the notorious special forces operative, is a figure known and dreaded by various specialized groups. Wearing a skull mask, it represents a wounded and solitary side of his character, a fragment that still bears the scars and fractures from the trials he’s encountered. After enduring brutal torture, losing his loved ones, and immersing himself in a military career, he had accepted a life of solitude, convinced that he could never intertwine his life with another’s. 

Yet, as he stands at the altar, surrounded by his teammates, they watch as you make your way down the aisle.

At that moment, time seems to stand still for Simon. His hardened exterior, built over years of pain and loss, collapses as he admires you, revealing a vulnerability he never thought he’d experience again. Nevertheless, as his gaze meets yours, he feels a glimmer of hope, a sentiment he links solely to you.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Simon spent years reaching this point, with you gradually breaking down Ghost. Progress wasn't consistent, with some days being more successful than others. While his defenses only crumbled for you, you played a significant role in shaping his current character. You healed someone who believed he would only break further, someone who considered himself irreparable. You provided him with hope, love, a confidant, and a secure place to call home. After years of knowing Ghost, you crossed paths with Simon. Your Simon…

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Facing each other, the world around him begins to blur. The instrumental music and officiant's words fade into the background as he studies you, captivated by your radiance. His focus narrows, fixated solely on your silhouette. He’s always found you beautiful, whether you're dressed in tactical gear, casual clothing, or simply bare. However, seeing you in a wedding dress, with your veil gracefully cascading over your hair, he believes that you’ve never looked more gorgeous.

Following the officiant's opening remarks and readings, the exchange of vows takes place. Simon, appreciative of you and all that you’ve done for him, healing him in ways no one else could, ensured his vows were perfect. Without your knowledge, he had rehearsed his vows prior to the wedding day, dedicating time to writing, revising, and practicing them repeatedly. Instead of relying on a written script, he chose to look directly into your eyes during that moment.

“My love, when I was cast aside by others, left fractured and isolated, you didn't turn away. Although I’ll never understand why, you offered me your love. With that love came a sense of belonging, a life I never thought I’d experience. You never once considered giving up on me when I seemed beyond hope,” he expresses, his voice faltering as tears stream down his face. In your peripheral vision, you noticed his teammates smiling, witnessing Simon's presence after years of working alongside Ghost.

“You cherished every aspect of me, even the sharp edges that wounded you. You polished them down with your love, shaping me into the man I am today. In this moment, all I desire is to spend eternity with you," Simon declared, his eyes glistening with tears as he gazed at you. His voice remained strong, despite the tears cascading down his cheeks. He knew he had to be strong, just as you had been for him throughout the years.

"I, Simon Riley, take you to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. And if there exists an afterlife, may our marriage endure beyond the grave,” he concludes, a gentle smile gracing his face. Tears stream down his cheeks, and he exchanges nods with his groomsmen, acknowledging their silent support. 

Tears fill your eyes as his words sink in. Despite your efforts to stay calm, your emotions flood over you. Reflecting on how much you’ve both grown, memories flash through your mind like scenes from a film.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Reciting your vows becomes a challenge, as you have to stop several times to compose yourself. Your voice trembles, but you compensate with a tearful smile. Simon gazes at you with admiration, witnessing as you profess your love for him just as he did for you. Your tears and faltering voice do not deter him, but rather intensify his love for you.

“...take you to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. And should an afterlife exist, I will happily hold your hand as we walk the expanses of our universe." You conclude your vows by promising to take his hand in marriage; during your lifetime and long after. Your eyes meet, unwavering, reveling in the romantic hues reflected in each other's gaze.

Upon finishing your vows, Johnny emerges from the line of groomsmen, presenting you and Simon with each other's rings, signaling his approval with a nod before returning to his place. Drawing closer, you and Simon intertwine hands, his touch tenderly guiding yours. Never did he imagine that his hands, typically calloused and stained with blood, would be adorning your finger with such a delicate stone. A symbol of his affection for you.

The ring is delicately placed on your finger, causing the beautifully cut diamond to sparkle in the glow of the cathedral lights. You gaze at the stone, admiring its beauty before sliding your husband’s band onto his finger. The wedding band bears both of your initials on the exterior and the date of your wedding inscribed within. Raising your eyes, you meet Simon's loving gaze, reciprocating the smile.

With the approval of your officiant, his hands glide to your waist while your arms elegantly drape over his broad shoulders. Drawing you closer, your lips meet simultaneously, holding onto you as if he’d never see you again. The applause from the intimate gathering fades into the background as he gently dips you, his hands tenderly supporting your back. Your lips linger against each other for a few moments before you both reluctantly part, resting your foreheads against each other in a moment of pure affection.

“I love you,” he confesses In a hushed whisper, a declaration meant only for your ears. A gentle smile graces your lips as you separate from him, your hand tenderly caressing his cheek, tracing the scars that have become so dear to you.

"I love you more, Simon."

[cthulhusstepmom]

It was really just Ghost's luck, this entire series of fucking calamities. First and foremost leave, which at this point he felt he had well enough in hand. At least he had until one John MacTavish had clambered into his life. Ghost had been perfectly content with coming and going, haunting his bare bones flat in Manchester when he was unwanted and unneeded on base. Sure he liked Kyle and Price well enough but living on top of each other crammed into shoe boxes did little for wanting to stick around unduly; besides Price taking leave was a rare occurrence and Gaz had a busy life off base that he slipped in and out of like an otter in a stream(good god if Ghost never heard about another rave or awkward morning after of Kyle Garrick plus however many guests it would be too soon). But he wanted to be with Soap, Johnny made the shitty bunks and the paper thin walls worth it. Made the constant running and gunning feel like more than just a macabre 9-5.

Made Ghost feel alive again.

This would be the first major leave since Last Almas, at least a month and a half of hard earned rest and relaxation in the comfort of their own beds. Ghost was dreading it. The nightmares were always worse in his flat, the pseudo domestic setting bringing forth memories of bloody puddles and broken crayons instead of the tried and true reruns of his own torture and burial. His therapist had told him to put more of himself into his flat, to try and make the place a safe haven even if it wasn't really a home. The problem with that was quite simple, there wasn't anything left of Simon Riley to give. At least there wasn't until Soap. Until the long buried human part of his brain was rudely shaken awake by a tirade of Scottish nonsense and good-natured touches. And now he was just supposed to leave and go back to the barren walls and sterile rooms of his little holding cell.

To make things even better in this home that wasn't home, the first thing he smelled upon crossing the threshold was an overwhelming odor of mildew and mold. Finding the source had been easy enough, sometime between now and last whenever the fuck he'd left last a pipe had burst and flooded the whole place; ruining the carpet and corrupting the few furnishings he had with dark black mold. His first call had been to building maintenance and they'd been quick to give him an estimate on just how long he had to stay the fuck out of the flat, at least a month funny that. The next call had been to Price, with no answer. Bastard was probably sipping expensive whiskey on the beach somewhere warm. Intellectually he knows that Gaz would offer him his spare room but he would rather not be subject to the conga line of mostly unclothed people Gaz apparently has traipsing through his condominium at any given hour. Which leaves him a single option.

Soap doesn't answer. Probably due in large part to the fact that Ghost doesn't call him.

Logically he knows that the Sergeant probably wouldn't turn him away, Johnny just isn't wired that way. But the element of surprise has served him well and in this fucked scenario going into the blind, Ghost will take all the cards he can shove up his sleeve.

It's not much to go off of, just the address he memorized from Johnny's file, but with the magic of modern technology he finds the little flat soon enough. The drive to Edinburgh is pleasant if long and the weather is mockingly mild. All setting the stage for another calamity as Ghost finds himself standing on the stoop of his Sergeant's flat (he ought to recognize by now that the universe forbids him from having a good day). He raps sharply on the wood of the door three times before he can convince himself that sleeping under a bridge is a better plan of action. It takes a minute or two before he hears anything, cursing himself for thinking that Johnny is even at home, before a muffled crash and wicked cursing within the flat signals that this is the right place and, for better or worse, Johnny's home. Ghost locks his knees and tries to figure out what to do with his hands as the cacophony grows closer.

"Sorry aboot tha, was wrapped up in tha studio- Ghost?"

Ghost opens his mouth to reply but the words fall right out of his head and onto the well loved welcome mat as his eyes take in his Sergeant. His hands are smeared with what his untrained eye assumes is paint, the flecks of color dance up his forearms and over the old t shirt he's wearing. His hair is loose and longer than it usually is, no sense in gelling it back on leave he supposed. But what really stops his mind from working is the thin band of black leather wrapped around Soap's neck, clasped with a shiny silver buckle.

A fucking collar.

Before Ghost can pull his thoughts together, he's being dragged by the front of his sweatshirt into the flat and pressed against the wall so the door can swing forcefully shut.

"Is everything ok? You in trouble?" Johnny asks, concern burning in his eyes.

"Pipe burst in my flat, thought I'd ask if I could surf your couch." He manages to choke out, eyes lingering on the way the leather hugs his subordinate's neck.

"Of course yeh can yeh numpty! Gave me a right fucking scare ya big bastard, showing up all silent on my doorstep. Coulda called, even sent a text eh Ghost. I was at the shops this morning, if I would've known you were coming I woulda shopped for two." Soap releases his hold on the fabric and allows Ghost room to leave the wall.

"Wear that shopping didya?" Is about the most coherent thing he can manage.

Soap looks at him confused before a hand travels up to his throat and a look of dread crosses his features.

"Oh shite."

A blazing red blush heats the tips of his Sergeant's ears, travelling down to his cheeks and collarbones as he runs a hand over his face.

"S'not what it looks like I promise, I don't even wear it oot most of the time." Most of the time? "It just reminds me of a throat mic; S' grounding, my shrink called it a sensory thing? I dinnae ken, but if it helps it helps y'ken-" the bubbling fountain of embarrassed explanation that flows from Soap's lips doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

Ghost reaches out a hand and pinches his bicep.

"-Ow, fuck was that for?"

"Johnny look at me, think I can judge how you dress on leave?" The skull print gaiter goes a lot further than any words to prove his point. Paired with sunglasses and a black baseball cap it's close enough to a mask to prevent a total mental breakdown.

Johnny looks over his visage with understanding eyes, nods gravely once and then turns towards the innards of the flat.

"Awright, let's get you set up! Loo is over there, it's a wee bit cramped so you can use my shower, here's the living room and ma bedroom is through there, that right there is the studio it was the second bedroom but it had the best lighting-" Ghost follows obediently, halfheartedly taking in bright decor that sings with Soap's frenetic energy.

How the fuck is he gonna survive Soap wearing that around the house?

[asnowfern]

Everything is fine when your hand is next to mine

A soft nessian drabble because that is all my completely exhausted being has the energy for.

WC: 743, Modern AU setting

The dread of realisation rose in Nesta with the increasing strength of the tidal waves. The ferry that transported them to the island was nothing more than a floating speck, helpless against the vast body of tumultuous water.

It was a short ride to the resort island that housed their team retreat: not even a mere hour.

While prone to often bouts of terrible nausea, Nesta’s seasickness had never devolved into the realms of vomiting. So she never found a need to medicate herself, choosing instead to rely on time trusted practice of a light meal and comfortable clothes that gave her chest and abdomen ample breathing room.

Though she had still hoped when she spotted the charcoal threat of cumulonimbus clouds in the faraway distance that it would wait the hour, not striking down its wrath until they had safely docked at shore. But alas, it was not to be - the waves grew just a little taller with each push and pull, the speed at which the ferry climbed and fell with the waves a jumbled inconsistent mess.

Nesta’s stomach lurched at the next descent and she squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth pursed into the slightest of an oval, pushing out a slow steady stream of air. Her meditative habits kicked in on instinct.

I am the rock against which-

Oh, for goodness sake. She couldn’t even complete the sentence without her abdomen clenching at the mere thought.

“Hey, Nes,” the voice dripping in pure swagger greeted as the cheap leather seat grumbled at the sudden weight.

Her brows knitted on its accord, annoyed. Nesta kept her eyes closed in pure refusal to acknowledge the business development executive. Maybe if she stayed quiet long enough, he would go away.

He didn’t.

He said nothing for a while, letting the little squeaks of leather alert her of his continued presence.

“Nes?”

“Now’s not the time, Cassian.” She sighed wearily, her jaw clenched as her belly threatened to push acidic bile up her throat. She took a shallow breath in and released a long shuddering exhale, forcing it under her control.

One, two, in.

One, two, out.

“You ok?”

One, two, in.

“I’m fine.”

One, two, out.

One, two, in.

“You don’t look fine.”

Silver blue eyes flew open as she whirled on him, snapping with the exhale, “Would you just leave me alone?”

It was uncalled for. It was rude but Nesta refused to backpedal even as something within her chastised her for chewing him off for no good reason. She ignored the voice and levelled a withering gaze at slightly widen hazel eyes, pretending not to notice the flash of hurt in them.

He slipped away when the moment broke, brushing her off with a wry smile that masked any other emotions, “I’ll be back later.”

And Nesta was alone again.

She fished her phone out of her bag to take note of the time - another thirty minutes to go, and sighed.

Leaning back into the seats, her knuckles turned white as her fingers gripped onto its handles. She forced it loose in hopes of loosening her tightening stomach. Her eyes stuttered shut and resumed her control of gated entry of air into her lungs.

Warm rough fingertips gently enveloped the back of her palms, rousing her from the fitful sleep she hadn’t realised she had fallen into. Dazed eyes drifted to the paper cup he extended to her, nothing but soft understanding on that ruggedly handsome face. Nesta accepted it wordlessly with a slight downward jerk of her chin, surprised at the heat from its papered surface. It was beyond her how he managed to find any hot drinks on this small transport ferry.

Cassian smiled and settled back into the seat next to her. Nesta lifted the edge of the cup to her lips, cautiously sipping its hot content. Immediately, a warmth spread in her chest and stomach. The gentle bitterness of the oolong tea soothed the churning.

Shifting her grip of the drinking receptacle to one hand, she slipped slender fingers over broad ones and soft palm over the back of the much larger hand.

“Thank you.”

His hand moved under hers, flipping so that their hands are clasped together. With the smallest of a smile gracing her lips, her shoulders relaxed into the seat and she let the comforting heat of his palm and the soothing presence to tie her through for the rest of the ride.

[conarcoin]

it genuinely does make me sad how many people don't know about smplive and specifically the massive impact it had on mcyt content and fandom. so much of modern mcyt fandom can be directly traced back to it - even the livestreamed smp format (prior to it, the default was pre-recorded episodes. smplive viewed livestreaming as a gimmick. they weren't expecting it to become the norm)

mcyttwt was pretty much built off smptwt. "cc boundaries" as a concept comes from the smplive fandom and the dreaded smpronpa discourse - the smp-boundaries blog that has now become a beloathed part of mcyt discourse was first made as a result of the smplive serious stream, dream smp was added as an afterthought

early dream smp took heavy inspiration from smplive. several things like the cuck shed are even callback gags. so many huge creators got their initial breakout success from smplive.

and like, i get that it's four years old, going on five in just a few months. and i know that nobody wants to address the elephant in the room regarding 1/2 of its creator duo

but it still makes me sad the way that mcyt fandom history is so undocumented that there are tons of people who have no idea about this huge, influential part of said history

[project-zorthania]

For those of you who don't know, I've been streaming my assassin's creed experiences live on twitch, and after reviewing some Valhalla playthroughs, I came across the discovery that Basim has a green thumb??

There's a note on the fridge at the cabin that tells the people staying there to water the plants daily.

Evidently, Layla fails to look after the plants between animus sessions, as this plants condition is dreadful by the time Basim returns to the modern timeline.

But after the events of "The Last Goodbye" and his meeting with William, you can clearly see that he's nursed the plant back to life. (before and after pics above)

[straightupsickfics]

love is embarrassing

sicktember prompt #28: "I should've stayed home" inspired by this post

ed/stede | modern au |4.5k words in which stede drags himself to a first date, get stood up, and meets the very hot, very nice bartender who turns the night around <3

****

Normally, Stede relishes having an excuse to pull together an outfit, to explore his favorite pieces in his walk-in closet, and make something new to wear. 

Today, however, is a rare exception. Stede can hardly bring himself to get up and off the couch, let alone muster the brain power it’s going to take to organize an ensemble, even if it is for a date he has rather been looking forward to all week. 

Well, looking forward to it with a little bit of anxious dread mixed in, something he can never seem to shake when it comes to romance. It’s not like he thought it’d be easy, leaving his wife of fifteen years, letting his children down gently, and starting over completely at the age of forty-five, but he hadn’t really stopped to consider how lonely it would be, either. 

And now, to top it all off, Stede had managed to pick up a truly terrible cold over the last few days. Today it seems to have settled in, made itself at home in his head and sinuses, leaving him exhausted, his eyes and nose streaming in almost equal measure as he works his way through recurring fits of ticklish, damp sneezes. 

He should stay home tonight, he knows this. Instead though, Stede has been hydrating, alternating between water and strong, black tea, and downing cold medicine all day in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his date, David wouldn’t notice. 

Sighing, Stede picks up his phone and finds a text from Lucius waiting for him. 

Lucius: Hello? What, no panicked photos of the outfit? No “what if” date scenarios for me to puzzle through over brunch? Do you hate me?? 

Stede: I don’t do that

Lucius: 🤣 good one

Stede: 😶‍🌫️

Lucius: I’m kidding, you know I live for this, I’m AMAZING at pre-date planning

Stede: The advantages of being young and in love, I suppose… 

Lucius: Oh, god, you’re not getting maudlin even before you go, right? It’s going to be fine, you’re going to put together a ridiculous (but slay) outfit, and he’s going to eat it up. Now, what are we wearing?

Stede looks at the blue sweatpants he would never leave the house in, the t-shirt that should have gone to the Goodwill years ago, and sighs again. He really should have started hours ago. 

Stede: Can I FaceTime you?

Lucius: YES

“Hh! hdt-NGXT! Huh’ushhIEW! Ngh…” Stede tries and fails to smother the sneeze against his fist while he sifts through his options, a teal silk shirt, a lavender sweater, and a bright, mustard yellow button down all wait for him on the bed, and he watches as Lucius winces. 

“Um, bless you? Are you sure you’re not getting sick? Because frankly that was pretty gross and sounded like it probably hurt.” 

“It did, but I’mb finde…” Stede huffs, snuffling discreetly into a handful of tissues. 

“Mm, too many letters in almost all of those words, babe,” Lucius says, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe the outfit you should actually be wearing is one of those hazmat suits.”

Stede pitches the tissues into the trash can and glares at his phone. “I thought you were going to help. This isn’t helping.” 

Lucius arches an eyebrow and rolls his eyes. “Sir, yes sir. I’d go with the lavender. Looks nice with your hair. And you’re a bit pale for the others at present.” 

He’s right, Stede knows, and he is grateful for the help, lucky to have had a work friend turn into a real friend over the last few years, especially as his divorce from Mary was happening, but Lucius had no filter, which was a blessing and a curse most days. 

“Thanks, Lucius,” Stede says now. “I think you’re right, we’ll go with the lavender.” He does love the teal, has worn it on first dates in the past, but tonight it would only serve to draw attention to how completely worn out and pale he looks and feels, and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

Lucius gives him a mock salute in reply, and they chat for a few more minutes before Lucius has to go, warning Stede again to stay home if he was really feeling bad. 

He falters for just a minute. His bed, even covered in clothes (and, okay, tissues) looks so inviting, a part of him wants nothing more than to climb right into it. But he has been looking forward to this, and David had already rescheduled twice.

So, Stede, stubborn as he is, waves Lucius off and sets about the long process of getting dressed, doing his hair, and carefully applying just a little concealer around the red-tinged parts of his nose. This takes the most time, as he finds himself applying and reapplying said concealer every time he has to stop to sneeze or blow his nose, which is far more often than he’d like. 

When he’s finally ready, Stede takes another dose of cold medicine, shoves some cough drops into his pockets along with a travel packet of tissues, and sets out for his date. He’s texting that he’s on his way when he nearly drops his phone as a sneeze (or three) sneaks up on him. 

“hH’UtsshH! Oh ndo… Huh’iiEEshh’uh! Huh-Ngtshh!”

It takes Stede another minute to compose himself, sniffling a good few times into the cuff of his jacket and sighing before he’s in his car and actually on his way to the restaurant, something called Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill that David had picked. 

It was going to be a very long night. 

*

Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill is so far up Stede’s alley he can’t believe he’s never been before now. It’s dark inside, and there’s an understated pirate theme throughout it. Not just a pirate flag and eyepatches, though. There’s an attention to detail there, a clear (to Stede) commitment to historical accuracy that he loves immediately. 

Stede loves piracy, the whole idea of it. People running away to the sea, abandoning whatever haunted them on land, finding a new group of people to belong to…It sounds amazing, sometimes. It might not be — no, it definitely wasn’t—as romantic as Stede makes it out to be in his head, of course; piracy was brutal at the end of the day, but there’s something about it that Stede’s always found fascinating. 

Running away to the sea is certainly something he’d thought about as he first started to come to terms with his sexuality, and the accompanying realization that he’d have to, eventually, tell Mary, therefore upending his entire life. 

Stede has to blink himself back to the present, appreciating the delicate maps along the walls, the artwork of ships and shorelines along the walls, and of course, Blackbeard’s Jolly Roger flag hanging right by the bar. 

He has to do a double take though, looking at the bar, because standing in front of the Jolly Roger is the bartender, who is quite possibly one of the best looking men Stede’s ever seen. He’s laughing at something a customer is saying in front of him, working a cocktail shaker with one heavily tattooed arm (was that a snake?) and setting out a glass with the other hand. His hair is a mix of black and gray, tied up in a half up half down ponytail, and Stede can’t bring himself to look away. 

The drink gets poured, the man turns away to offer more rounds to other patrons, and Stede, eventually, realizes he’s been sitting at the table for over a half an hour with no sign of David. He frowns, picking up his phone, but there’s nothing there. 

Stede: I’m here! Got us a table towards the back.

There’s no reply. 

Twenty more minutes go by, and still, nothing. 

Stede: He’s late

Lucius: Uh oh…

Stede: You don’t think. I mean. He’s coming, right? Just late…?

Lucius: Definitely. Traffic, probably! Btw how are you feeling? 

Stede: Not the best, I’m afraid 

Lucius: :( Hydrate while you wait!!

He’s right, and Stede takes a careful sip of his water. His throat hadn’t been too bad this afternoon, and he’s hoping it stays that way. 

The waitress comes by just then, asking if she can bring anything for him to drink, get him started with any appetizers. He shakes his head, murmuring that he’s just waiting for someone, they’d order when he arrives, and she nods with a smile and walks away. 

It’s not long after that that Stede gives in and checks his phone again. Still no reply. His stomach twists. 

He can’t be getting stood up, tonight of all nights, when he wanted nothing more than to stay home in the first place. Right? 

His nose gives a twinge just then, and Stede fumbles for the packet of tissues he has in his pocket, just bringing them to his nose and mouth as he sneezes four times in quick succession, his eyes and nose streaming by the end of the fit, the sneezes stronger and wetter than they’d been earlier, making them entirely impossible to hold back. 

“hh’uHTSH! Snf! H-hh’uHTSHH! uuhh’TSH! huh’Eeiishh!” The tissues are useless by the end, too, and Stede drags himself to the bathroom to blow his nose in peace, splashing some water on his face for good measure. 

He looks in the mirror, blinking a few times and trying to bring some life back into his face, but there’s no hope, it seems. 

David had been right to stand him up, Stede thinks. He’s a mess. 

Stede: I don’t think he’s coming, I’m afraid :( 

Lucius: Nooo, I’m so sorry. Seriously. Do you want to come over? I won’t even complain about the germs. 

Stede: Thank you, but I’m alright. Think I’ll give it a bit longer, sit at the bar instead of taking over a table, and then head out. 

Lucius: <3 Call me in the morning! 

*

“What can I get you, mate?” The tattooed bartender asks when Stede sits down at the bar. 

“Oh, umb… J-just..huh!’ISH! Sorry, just a glass of Chardonnay?” Wine is probably definitely not a good idea tonight, Stede knows, but he feels like wallowing a little before going home. 

“Sure thing, here you go.” The bartender sets the drink down and gives Stede a small, friendly smile. He really is beautiful. 

“Thanks,” Stede says with a sigh. He looks at the glass and any desire to drink it vanishes. He just feels bad, tired and congested and achy all over. 

“Uh oh, that’s a big sigh for a Saturday night,” the bartender says. The bar is currently empty aside from Stede and a woman sitting at the opposite end, and Stede looks at the man with his dark, kind eyes, and it all comes pouring out. 

“I think I’m being stood up,” Stede confesses. “He rescheduled two times before this, which should’ve been a sign, I guess, but I thought we’d hit it off, texting and all that…” 

“Damn, hate that. Just say you’re not feeling it, yeah? Why make someone feel like shit? S’why I don’t date so much anymore, myself.” 

“You might be onto something there. Maybe I should get cats,” Stede says, sighing again. 

At this, the bartender lights up. “Cats are the best. Love cats. Here, look…” He fishes his phone out of his back pocket and holds it out to Stede. On the lockscreen is a black cat with white feet, curled up on what has to be the bartender’s chest. In the picture, he’s wearing a shirt with a purple octopus on it, his hair down around his shoulders, his face cut off aside from a small smile. 

It’s adorable. 

“That’s Frank,” the bartender says. “Well, Frankfurter, one of his many names.” 

Stede laughs, which turns abruptly into a coughing fit that lasts long enough for the bartender to grab a glass of ice water and place it in front of him. 

“That doesn’t sound great,” he says as Stede takes a sip. 

“Sorry about that. I probably should’ve stayed home,” Stede admits. “Thought I could power through for this date. Though if I’d had the sense to cancel I wouldn’t have been stood up.” 

The man shakes his head. “S’all good. Kind of saw you sitting over there for a while, I wondered why someone like you’d be sitting alone for so long.” 

Stede feels his face flush. Someone like him. What did that mean? 

“In a good way,” the bartender clarifies. “I’m Ed,” he says. 

“Ah. Stede. I’d shake your hand but…” 

Ed smiles, holds up his hand and gives Stede a little air high-five. “There we go.” 

Stede can’t help but smile back, genuinely, for the first time all night. 

They sit there for a while, too long, probably, given how bad Stede feels, but Ed’s so nice, and really very funny, telling stories about the people he gets at the bar, about Frank, about his obsession with the ocean and pirate history. 

“I love pirates,” Stede tells him excitedly. “I actually can’t believe I hadn’t been here before. You must’ve been thrilled to get a job here, then,” he adds.

Ed’s eyebrows lift for a split second, but then he’s nodding. “Yeah, love it,” he says. 

Just then, a shorter, dark-haired man appears from the back, shooting a glowering look at Ed. “If there’s not enough customers, you could always come back and help with the order for next week, Edward,” he says. “Or are you too busy chatting up your guests?” 

Ed frowns, his entire face changing as he turns to reply. “Fuck off, would you Izzy? It’ll all get done, thanks.” 

The man gives a long-suffering sigh and turns, disappearing around a corner, gone as fast as he came.

“Was that… y’know, Blackbeard?” Stede asks, voice low. 

Ed pauses again, then shakes his head. “Mm? No, I’m Blackbeard,” he says with a smile and a gesture to his face. “More scruff than beard these days, though,” he adds. 

“Oh! You… Blackbeard’s is yours?” 

“Yep! That was Izzy, my so-called right hand man. He’s gotten a little too comfortable running the show since he knows I prefer stuff like this,” Ed says, gesturing to the bar. “Just talking to people, you know?” 

Stede nods. “You can tell you really love the place,” he tells him. “Thought so as soon as I came in.” 

Ed smiles, and it’s amazing, really, the way his face lights up at the compliment. “Thanks, man, yeah, Iz thought I spent too much on the decor, but how often do you open the place of your dreams? Really just went for it.” 

“It’s perfect,” Stede agrees.

A comfortable lull falls over their conversation, and Stede takes another small sip of his wine for something to do. He must make a face, though, because Ed’s shaking his head when he looks back up. 

“Think what you should do is let me make you some tea, if you’re staying,” he says. 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do all that. I really should be—” 

“—Would be nice if you stayed,” Ed finishes. 

Oh. 

“Well, if you don’t mind all this,” Stede says, gesturing to his face. He can’t imagine he looks any worse than he had earlier in the bathroom, but he can’t be making a good first impression, either. 

“Nah, you’re good. Most interesting person to come in here in…forever,” Ed says. “Be right back,” he promises, disappearing into what must be the kitchen and coming back a few minutes later, with the promised mug of steaming water and a selection of tea bags for Stede. 

He’s touched. Sure, Ed owns the place, but still, he didn’t have to go out of his way to make Stede tea for his stupid cold. 

The mug has the Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill logo on it, emblazoned across a pirate flag, and the warmth of it warms Stede right through immediately. 

“Mint sounds nice,” he says, grabbing it and letting it steep. He makes the mistake of lifting the mug to his face, the steam immediately shaking something loose in his sinuses, and ends up sneezing another good few times in a row. 

“hd’ISCHuh! Eh’sschIEW! ii’Tiishh’uh! SNF!” Stede takes two more tissues from the pack in his pocket, realizing that he’s down to just one left, and grimaces. 

“God bless you,” Ed says sympathetically. “Makes it even worse that this guy didn’t show up when you went to all the trouble of coming out, feeling so bad and all.” 

“Mm, no trouble. I did have a friend help with the outfit, though,” Stede admits. “One of my first dates after a divorce and all, needed some help.” 

“Good on them, then, that color’s perfect for you,” Ed tells him, and he sounds like he means it. 

Stede gives him a smile but shakes his head. “He did also suggest a hazmat suit.” 

This gets a laugh from Ed, and it’s a lovely sound, one Stede wishes he had the time to get used to. 

Ed seems to realize something all at once. “Wait, did you say first date?”

Stede sinks in his seat a little bit as he nods. “One of the first,” he says. “Though it always feels like the first after fifteen years of marriage to a woman, anyway. Suppose I’m something of a late bloomer,” Stede admits, feeling his face go warm. “Probably too late.” 

Ed softens at this, the surprise on his face washing away. “No such thing as too late, mate. Look at me, I came out at fifteen and look at me, alone with my cat and my bar. Don’t even have a divorce to blame it on.” 

For some reason, this makes Stede’s throat go tight, his eyes stinging with tears. God, he cannot cry because one stranger was being nice to him. 

“Here,” Ed says, pulling a deep red handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to Stede with a nod and a small smile and turning away, giving him a minute of privacy. “You probably need this more than I will tonight,” he says.

Stede dabs at his eyes, appreciating Ed’s kindness all the more. 

Stede takes a few deep, steadying breaths and sips his tea as other customers come and go, as Izzy appears and disappears with another disapproving shake of his head, and through it all, Ed always makes his way back to Stede’s end of the bar, offering him more tea, more water, another story or picture of Frank when things slow back down. 

All at once, Stede realizes that he’s having a better time than he’d ever expected to, even if David had bothered to show up for their date. 

“What’s that face, mate? You’re looking like you did when you first came over…oh, fuck, like two hours ago,” Ed says, looking at the time. 

“Two human hours?” Stede gasps. It’d gone by so fast he hadn’t even noticed, though he is definitely more tired now than he’d been before. 

Ed laughs again and Stede wants to bottle the sound of it. He really must be delirious from this cold.

“Human hours,” Ed confirms. 

“You know, I think I’m actually glad he didn’t show up? It’s been so lovely talking to you, Ed,” Stede says. 

“Same goes,” Ed says with another one of his warm smiles. “This is the most fun I’ve had at work in ages, maybe ever.”

This feels like the best first date Stede’s ever been on, though he keeps that thought to himself, along with a firm reminder that this is definitely not a date.

*

Another hour passes in the blink of an eye, and Stede shifts in his seat, the tell tale twinge somewhere in the back of his sinuses letting him know that very soon, he’s going to need more tissues than he has at the moment. He really should be getting home and into bed, starting the process of sleeping off this wretched cold. Though, as miserable as he feels, the night hadn’t been a total loss after all, thanks to Ed. 

“Well,” Stede says, sniffling, “I think I’d better get home. If my eyes get any heavier I’ll be asleep right here on your bar, and no one wants that.” He’d intended it to come across as a joke, but his voice is so wrecked from this cold and the all too recent tears that it comes out just as run down and, frankly, sad as he feels. 

“Mm, yeah, no, might get a crick in your neck,” Ed says, as if that’s the only problem with what Stede said, and not the million and one sick person germs he’d be leaving behind. He smiles at Stede, the way he has been the whole night, while making him laugh, while making him feel better about being stood up, while pouring him drinks he claimed were on the house. 

“Exactly,” Stede says, returning the smile. His head really does feel heavy though, his sinuses throbbing with the cold he’d pushed off and ignored for far too long tonight. He pictures his bed, a safe haven despite its emptiness, and stands up before he can change his mind. He’s strangely reluctant to leave Ed, funny, kind Ed, but it’s really for the best, leaving before Stede gets one of his crazy ideas. Like thinking that Ed could possibly, actually like him. 

It’s Ed’s job to be nice to strangers, Stede reminds himself. 

He’s just doing his job. 

“Well,” Stede begins. “Thank you, again, truly, for being so nice to me tonight. I’ve been quite a mess and this … really helped,” he says, too honestly, he’s sure of it, given the way his eyes sting and his sore throat thickens with the threat of yet more tears. God, he really does have to get out of here. 

Ed looks at him, his gaze lingering on Stede’s face. The restaurant’s emptying out now, people finishing the last of their glasses of wine, letting their dates wind down before they head home, and Stede feels that familiar twinge in his gut, a mix of jealousy and longing. It would be nice to go home with someone, that’s all. Or home to someone. 

The sound of Ed’s voice breaks him out of his pathetic thought spiral. 

“You’ll have to let me know when you get home,” Ed says, sliding his phone onto the bar and over to Stede. “Can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel, I’d never forgive myself.” He gives Stede an encouraging little smile before turning to grab an empty glass a few feet away. 

“Oh, I barely drank anything! I’ll be alright, I promise, you don’t need to worry about me,” Stede says. He’s a very safe driver, even with his cold-foggy head, he can make the fifteen minute drive home no problem, and he really had only taken a few sips of the wine two hours ago. 

Ed turns back around to face him, amusement written across his face. “M’trying to get your number here, mate,” he says simply, as if it’s nothing, and not something that has never—literally never—happened to Stede Bonnet. 

“Oh,” Stede says, face flushing as he realizes. 

Ed just lifts his phone and unlocks it, handing it to Stede again. “For safety reasons,” he says with a wink. 

Stede enters his number with hands that feel, suddenly, a little shaky, adds his name, and hands the phone back to Ed. 

“Stede Bonnet (from the bar)” Ed reads out, smirking. “Thank god you specified, now I won’t get you confused with all the Stede Bonnets I’ve met elsewhere…” 

“Oh, well, I didn’t— I just thought…” Stede tries. 

“S’all good, Stede, really. There we go…” He types something and nods and Stede’s own phone lights up immediately. 

Stede reads the message: Edward Teach (Born on the beach)

“Were you actually?” He asks, intrigued. 

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” Ed says mysteriously. “You’ll have to find out. Over dinner or something. Not here,” he adds. “When you’re feeling up for it.” 

Stede’s pretty sure all the DayQuil he’d been chugging all day has caught up with him, because there’s simply no way this is happening to him right now, not when he looks and feels like this. Ed is gorgeous, all warm, dark skin under his tattoos, his salt and pepper hair falling out of his half ponytail just a little at this point, the rest hanging over his shoulders. Not to mention the perfect, deep brown eyes that Stede’s been entirely too captivated by all evening, it’s… 

It’s too good to be true, surely. It’s too much. 

“Sorry, too much?” Ed says, reading his mind. “I have a tendency to come on a little strong, or so I’ve been told.” 

“No!” Stede says quickly. “Not at all, you’re perfect. This just… doesn’t happen to me,” he confesses. “And I’ve been sniffling and sneezing at you all evening, and you’re so, well handsome… and…” He trails off again helplessly. 

“And so are you,” Ed says easily. “And hey, if you manage to look this good when you feel this bad, I’m going to be fucking in for it next time, aren’t I?” He winks again. “You really should go, though, you look dead on your feet, and you’ve been through it tonight. Not to mention listening to me rambling all night,” he grins. 

Stede nods. “I’ll text you when I get home,” he says, smiling down at his phone. He’ll collapse into bed, and text Ed, and let him be sweet and kind to him and wish him a goodnight. 

And, for once, Stede’s confident that these texts won’t go unanswered. 

“Holding you to that,” Ed says. “Goodnight, Stede Bonnet from the bar.” 

Stede’s still smiling when he unlocks his front door and sends the promised text to Ed. 

*

The next morning, Stede has a few texts waiting for him. 

Lucius: Sign of life check, hellooo?? What ended up happening last night???

Edward Teach (Born on the beach): Morning, Stede from the bar, hope you’re not feeling too bad! If you want I could…bring you breakfast on the way into work this morning? If you don’t mind giving a strange man your address, that is 

David: So sorry! I overscheduled myself last night, can we try again next week? 

Stede deletes the text from David, then deletes his number all together. Good riddance. 

He promises Lucius he’s alive, just sick, and promises to call him later to fill him in. This leads to a flurry of new texts full of question marks and eye emojis. 

Stede: Good morning, Ed! Thank you again for last night. And you’re hardly a “strange man” after that! I really did have a wonderful time in spite of it all. I do feel pretty gross this morning, though :( Can we raincheck breakfast to one we can have…together? 

Edward Teach (Born on the beach): I’d love that 

[ask-wylde-and-co]

*burning hot ash and bolts of red lightning fall from the sky and onto a now ruined Orokin city. There's fire everywhere, the air is filled with smoke, hordes of demons roam the streets, and running from them is a little Orokin girl, golden ichor trickling from various wounds on her arms, legs, and even one on her forehead*

ᒲ⚍ᒲᒲ||! ᒲ⚍ᒲᒲ||, ∴⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ ᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍?! ╎-╎'ᒲ ᓭᓵᔑ∷ᒷ↸! (Mummy! Mummy, where are you?! I-I'm scared!)

*the demons hear her cries for her mother and let out inhuman howls as they give chase*

リ-リ𝙹! ᓭℸ ̣ -ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ|| ʖᔑᓵꖌ! (N-no! St-stay back!)

*the girl summons a golden lightning bolt and chucks it at one of the buildings, causing it to collapse and topple on top of the demons, buying her some time as she continues to run for her life*

*she keeps running for what seems like hours, slowly accumulating more wounds as she runs; be it from a demon attacking her, close calls from the lightning, or simply tripping over debris and falling. Hot tears stream down her face as she clutches at a pendent her father gave her near the start of the war. He said it would bring her good luck and protect her in times of crisis, and so far it has, but its magic is running out and draining along with it are her hopes of finding her mother alive*

*eventually she can see them - Orokin soldiers filing the last of the civilians onto an evacuation cruiser. Among them, she can see her parents. She laughs despite her overwhelming terror and calls out to them*

ᒲ⚍ᒲᒲ||! ↸ᔑ↸↸||! ╎'ᒲ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ!! (Mummy! Daddy! I'm here!!)

*but she is too late. By the time they notice her presence the shuttle doors had already closed and they were being ferried off-world. She is alone. Abandoned. Left to die by those who swore to protect innocents like herself*

*the girl drops to her knees and begins to sob uncontrollably, still clutching the pendant tight in her hands. She can sense the demons surrounding her and beginning to close in. Any traces of hope she had are now gone, replaced with dread and a sense of impending doom. Despite her young age, she knows that this is the end for her*

*then a titanic spear the size of a modern day sky scraper shoots down from the heavens at unimaginable speed and strikes the earth, and everything goes white*

*Ruby suddenly bolts upright with a gasp, covered in sweat. It was just a nightmare. With shaking hands she reaches up and touches her face, and feels the cold, smooth metal of her prosthetics.*

*No... Not a nightmare... A memory.*

*she curls up in the fetal position and starts to cry*

(@emily-and-friends @solvar-the-drone @theblackcubeofdarkness @alexisthemultifandomfan100 @multiverseleaderxxx @roseamongrobots @serial-designation-mj)

[animasola86]

(MODERN AU) In Your Care - 3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x m!oc Genre: Angst/Smut/Drama // Words: 3.9k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: After months of enduring the most vile things her new foster family put her through, Nebbia finds herself at the end of the road, and there is only one way out - a decision that connects her even more to Sebastian.

WARNINGS: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content! Psychological trauma! Panic attacks! Sexual abuse/domestic violence! Forbidden foster siblings relations! Horny and damaged teenagers! Murder/Death! (Original characters!)

NOTES: This is chapter 3 of my AU series IN YOUR CARE (see Ch1 and Ch2). It's set in modern times, there's no magic, just life in its most cruel form. In this chapter we go even deeper down the drain, so to speak, so please look very closely at the warning tags! Proceed at your own risk!

← CHAPTER 2 - // - CHAPTER 4 →

3

“Nebbia!”

The voice carried through the haze clouding her panicked mind as she kept running, her legs trembling from exertion and hysteria while hot tears streamed down her numb cheeks. Her lips were tingling painfully with every rapid breath she took.

“Wait! Please!”

She didn't stop, stumbling forwards, onto the open road, over it, almost tripping over a fallen branch before she reached the woods beyond and hastily rushed through the underbrush, not caring about twigs and thorns scratching up her skin, clinging to her clothes. She just wanted to get away. Far, far away.

But suddenly there was a hand brushing against her arm, and she yelped and ran faster, but the unexpected touch made her tumble, and with a helpless cry she fell forwards, ready to meet the ground, until two arms wrapped around her and pulled her back against a warm chest.

She kicked and whimpered as the momentum of her flight and the other body pushing against her made her legs give way, and she slipped to her knees, crying mercilessly as her mind gave up. The body behind her held her tighter, shushing her soothingly, and she only finally relaxed when she heard his voice right in her ear, his warm breath ghosting her skin.

“It's alright, love, I'm here. It's just me. It's okay...”

She let out a noise that was something between a hysterical sob and a relieved gurgle, and in the next moment she turned slightly and threw her arms around Sebastian's neck. He immediately grabbed her firmer, his strong arms squeezing her panic right out of her, or so she hoped.

He shifted to sit on his knees and pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in her hair as she pressed her head against his neck, her tears flowing freely as she squeezed her eyes shut and lay still in his arms. His deep breaths calmed her, slowly, and after a long moment of her quietly sobbing and the noises of the woods surrounding them, she felt her heart beating slower again.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, moving his hand over her back in relaxing circles.

She inhaled sharply, still not able to speak, let alone voice the thing that had made her spiral right out of control in the first place. She had feared this might happen, for two years she had been dreading the day, and even though she had been distracted by her new life, it had always been in the back of her mind. Taking another shuddering breath, she pressed her lips to his warm neck, his scent and feel filling her senses.

“I... I can't...” she stammered, sniffling helplessly, unable to say it out loud.

He exhaled loudly and pressed her closer to his chest. “Okay,” he whispered. “Take your time, it's alright...”

She kissed his neck again in response and forced herself to focus on him, feeling his warm body wrapped around hers, his soft breath making her hair fly and her skin tingle, his low voice vibrating soothingly through her head, as she grabbed the back of his shirt tightly and inhaled deeply. But before she could finally find the words to describe why she had panicked, she heard him whisper:

“It's him, isn't it? The new kid they brought here today?”

A gasp slipped from her lips and he squeezed her even tighter upon hearing it. “Yes,” she muttered into his neck, her wet cheek leaning on his shoulder.

“He's the one who –”

She twitched in his embrace, a sudden jerk rushing through her body like an electric shock. Her hands dug into his shirt, almost ripping it. Her mind was flooded with images then, and she was unable to suppress them anymore. Her heart tightened as she felt a new wave of hysteria crashing over her, along with all those memories of nightly visits, painful encounters, spiteful words and actions, of being used and abused and treated as if she was nothing but a toy.

Voices crept into her head, crude and vulgar, deceivingly praising and covertly degrading. Her skin was crawling, her lips tingling badly, her face felt numb as she sobbed and whimpered, her breaths short and ragged. And while she was caught in her worst nightmare that had once been real, she felt two hands on her cold face.

“Nebbia! Look at me!” Her eyes fluttered open, more tears spilling from her lashes as she met the warm gaze of two brown eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concern, jaw clenched empathically, and she felt her lips trembling even more and hiccoughs shaking her small form. “Shh, it's alright,” Sebastian continued, looking at her intently, holding her face until the tingling sensation subsided slowly. “I'm here, okay? I won't let anything happen to you!”

She blinked quickly, her vision blurry, but gradually, she could focus on his freckled face again, her eyes moving over his handsome features, and as she started counting the tiny dots on his cheeks, she felt herself relaxing again, her lungs and stomach aching. She pressed her lips together and took deep breaths through her nose, and he nodded at her encouragingly.

“Deep breaths, yes, you're good, you'll be fine,” he whispered, watching her closely, his fingertips slipping into her hair as his thumbs caressed her wet cheeks. It wasn't the first time he had seen her like this, and even though she felt embarrassed for reacting so strongly, for being unable to control herself, she felt safe with him, calming down more and more, knowing that he wouldn't judge her. “Breathe in,” he instructed quietly, his dark eyes on her the entire time. “And breathe out...”

She followed the rhythm he provided, and while getting lost in his gaze, the tremors of her body stopped eventually, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He let go of her face and pulled her against him, both arms wrapped tightly around her as she relaxed in his grip, feeling boneless and spent, but in a totally different way than she normally would have felt when using those adjectives.

“What... is he doing here?” she whispered after a long moment of silence, with only the birds singing around them and the wind making the treetops sway and rustle.

“I don't know,” he replied hoarsely, exhaling loudly. “But he won't be staying here, I won't let him. We have to tell them...”

She winced. “No... we can't... please...”

“Why not?” he said with a defiance that made her gasp against him. “Please, Nebbia, if they knew what that arsehole did to you, they wouldn't bring him here in the first place, orphan or not! They can't take in everyone!”

“They took us in,” she whispered barely audible. “And we might even be worse...”

“No, we're not,” he said resolutely. “We're fighters, we escaped on our own, we chose life instead of hell! You did the right thing, Nebbia! There was no other way you could have escaped that awful place!”

“I doubt he'll see it the same way...” she croaked, taking a shuddering breath. “When it was me... who made him an orphan...”

“He should be lucky you spared him,” he said through gritted teeth. “I know I wouldn't have...”

She leaned against him, her fingers digging into his shirt as another wave of memories flooded her senses. Yet she was too exhausted to fall into a new panic attack as she remembered the fatal day where everything had been too much.

Two years earlier

She was aching, her entire body sore and itching. The night had been another one of James' experiments, and she could still feel the vibrations of the various toys he had tested on her. Her knees were shaking as she stumbled through the kitchen in the dim light of the moon pouring through the dirty windows. She was so thirsty, her head was near exploding and her lips chapped so badly she tasted blood.

Luckily he had fallen asleep right after using her, and she had slipped from her room with his cum still leaking from her hurting ass. She hadn't bothered putting on panties, she didn't even care that she dripped all over the floor. Almost mindlessly, barely able to think straight, she tumbled through the dark house, passing closed doors and rumbling snores, until she leaned heavily against the kitchen sink, opened the faucet and poured cold water over her hot face and into her dry mouth.

Completely lost in the soothing sensation as she felt it running down her hurting throat, she didn't notice the footsteps until it was too late. Suddenly two big hands grabbed her bare ass and squeezed tightly, she yelped in surprise but was pushed back over the sink, her stomach pressed hard into the edge of the counter.

“What a nice surprise,” a low, raspy voice, slow but menacing, grunted behind her, and she whimpered helplessly. “I see he's prepared you already, huh, sweetheart?”

She struggled but couldn't fight it when she felt a thick finger pressing past the tight ring of muscles, the wet squelching sound almost as nauseating as the stench of alcohol drifting towards her as she was pulled up by another hand grabbing her throat. She gasped and whined as she saw the burly body of her foster father pressed against hers. His finger was still lodged inside her ass, moving lazily in and out, pushing his son's cum deeper. A wail escaped her, and she grabbed at his hairy arm, fingernails scratching over his skin.

“Please...” she whimpered, knowing it wouldn't help, but despite it all, she couldn't just give in, there was still that tiny voice that told her to endure, the day would come, sooner than she thought. Where it all ended.

He grunted and pulled his finger out, wiping it clean on her thigh. “Shut up,” he growled, and the hand holding her throat squeezed it tightly. “My turn now...” He slurred his words, and his stance wasn't as steady, but when he pushed her forwards forcefully, over the sink again, she cried out in pain while his sweaty hands roamed her body until they grabbed her hips with an iron grip. He forced her legs apart with one knee, and while she squirmed, he stepped closer, and she could feel his erection pressing against her inner thigh.

Her hands closed around the edge of the sink as she gritted her teeth, silent tears streaming down her face. Closing her eyes, she tried to disassociate, forcing her mind away to better places, but there was only darkness, and when he pressed his dick into her tight hole, the darkness turned bright red as she wailed loudly.

He didn't even care to silence her this time, he just rutted into her like a feral dog, grunting and growling, stretching her muscles painfully, and luckily for her he was done quickly, without his son's youth and stamina, and when he came inside her, he groaned deeply, then stumbled back, slipped out and wiped his leaking cock between her ass cheeks before slapping them violently.

She cried out, her body trembling, her insides convulsing. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her up before he brought his face to her ear, his hot breath reeking of alcohol while the stench of sweat assaulted her nostrils.

“Thanks, honey,” he rasped and slapped her ass once more before he let her go and walked away, leaving her to slip down to the ground, where she remained, curling up helplessly, sobs and tremors shaking her tiny form.

She had no idea how long she stayed in the fetal position, barely able to breathe through her tears, while the house around her remained threateningly silent. The moonlight moved over the dirty floor, and she watched it out of burning eyes, feeling dirty and empty and yet...

Her mind was racing, that voice keeping her company, corrupting her with images of past events and future happenings. “They will never stop,” it whispered to her. “Unless you make them stop...”

“Make them stop,” she repeated quietly, barely audible, her eyelids heavy and the movements of her limbs sluggish as she finally uncurled and crawled forwards, reaching for the cupboard under the sink. Her shaking hands knocked over various bottles until her fingers closed around one with a large skull and bones symbol on it. “Make them... stop...” she whispered as she picked up the rat poison.

It had been too easy, really. Too easy and yet not good enough.

With the encouraging voice inside her head and a determination to finally be free, she had started preparing dinner, cutting old vegetables that seemed ironically fitting for what she had planned, still basked in moonlight, covered in sweat and other juices, her muscles aching and her lungs hurting, but her heart had beaten fast and strong as the plan had made her come back alive slowly.

Once the stew was done, she had emptied the entire bottle into the broth, shaking with anticipation as she imagined them eating it, choking on it, dying from it. The image helped her forwards as she returned to her room, finding James still sprawled on her bed, sleeping deeply, and she had stared at him for a moment, wondering if she should end it right here, right now.

But she knew he was a light sleeper, and smothering him with a pillow was not a good idea in her exhausted state, no matter how much she wanted it, he was still stronger than her. He had proven that time and time again. So she exhaled loudly and lay down on the floor, cuddled into the pile of laundry until she fell asleep somehow.

The next hours were a blur.

Through the fog in her head she woke up to a foot nudging her thigh. She stirred, groaning under the aching of her body as she rolled around, looking up out of hooded eyes. James stood over her, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Get up, princess,” he said with a growl, tilting his head. “Let's get some food, Ma made stew.”

His words immediately caused her insides to ignite. She sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes, and when he grabbed her elbow to pull her up she let out a pained grunt. He gave her another nudge.

“Put on my favorite dress,” he told her, pointing to the yellow sundress he had bought her a few weeks ago. It was crinkly and probably still covered in dried cum because he made her wear it so often, loving to take her in it, no matter where they were.

He watched her get dressed, a hungry glint in his cold gray eyes. But she didn't care about his lustful gazes or vulgar thoughts, she was solely focused on the fact that her plan was unfolding. And suddenly she was afraid. She wanted to be free of these people, but was she really able to let this happen?

Was she able to kill them?

James ushered her into the kitchen and made her sit at the round table where she met the drowsy gaze of her foster father, while his wife stood by the stove and stirred the stew Nebbia had made that night. She looked confused, probably wondering why she couldn't remember making it but seeing her dilated pupils, the flustered girl knew that woman was high on drugs still or already again, so it didn't really matter.

Sitting awkwardly at the table, a rather rare occurrence in this household but nobody seemed to mind it much, she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, both from the aching in her lower body and the panic eating away at her already frayed nerves. She didn't flinch when she felt not one, but two hands on her thighs as father and son stared at her, thinking back to the things they did to her last night and all the nights and days before. And seeing their leering faces, she grew determined that this was the only way out.

Pressing her lips together, she endured, waiting, waiting, almost going insane waiting, until the large pot was put down in the middle of the table, steam and strange odors coming from it. “Dig in,” her foster mother slurred and put a large ladle into the broth, and she watched in absolute tension how they all filled their plates while she sat there and wondered where she had put the empty rat poison bottle.

Cold sweat made it to her forehead, and her breaths grew quicker as her foster parents started eating with no care in the world, while James raised his spoon before suddenly stopping, looking at her.

“Come on, eat,” he told her, nudging her elbow. She stared at the steaming liquid on her own plate, when another voice croaked in the back of her mind.

“Let's just end it,” it whispered encouragingly, like a promise, a hand stretched out to grab and be pulled into eternal darkness. It was so tempting, and frankly, if the boy next to her would urge her to eat, she would probably have done it, but a sudden gurgle made her gasp and look up.

On the other side of the table sat her foster mother, holding her throat, gagging badly. “Ma!” James exclaimed and stood up quickly, and Nebbia was thrown out of her stupor and into action herself.

She jumped up and ran, not turning back, not looking back, as more gurgles and groans and grunts filled the kitchen, then heavy bodies thudding to the floor and desperate cries of a son seeing his parents suffer and die right in front of him.

Nebbia felt tears in her eyes, but she kept moving, through the house, out of the door, pushed forwards by guilt and the growing urge to be free, to get away, to finally leave the hell that had almost destroyed her. The more steps she took, the better she could breathe, yet her vision was blurry as she stumbled along the empty road, dragging her bare feet over the asphalt.

Suddenly the sound of sirens cut through the air, and an ambulance rushed past her, back towards the house at the edge of town.

She kept going, her legs aching, her body tense, her face wet, with no idea where she should even go. Exhaustion washed over her and she tripped, falling to her knees and scraping them, but the pain barely registered in her clouded mind. She was about to get back up, when a car horn made her jump and yelp in shock. Bleary eyes moved up, and she saw a man and a woman looking at her through the open window of a truck that had stopped beside her, blocking her from oncoming traffic.

“Nebbia?” the woman asked, her voice kind and soft, and she frowned deeply. She didn't know why she felt the need to trust her, but she somehow did, and when she nodded, the woman smiled at her.

She didn't even ask why she knew her name, she felt too numb to think anything at this point. A car door was opened, and she saw another person sitting on the backseat, beckoning her closer. A boy, older than her, with the blackest eyes she had ever seen. He gave her a smirk, and she felt herself blushing. Yet she didn't move immediately, only when the woman was suddenly next to her, looking at her almost motherly (not that she knew how that would look like, but it felt right, soothing), she stirred in her stupor.

“We have to go, Nebbia,” she told her. “It's not safe here...”

She stared up at the strange woman, barely taking in her features as she was already gently shoved onto the backseat. The voices inside her head grew louder, some protesting, some warning, some giving in. Some wanting to tell that lady that it hadn't been safe here for months. But she didn't say anything out loud, just complied and sat down next to the boy on the backseat.

He looked almost as disheveled and dirty as she did, as if he had been living on the streets or also in a negligent household, and somehow seeing someone else like her made her feel better. He smiled at her, and she felt her swollen lips twitching.

“I'm Ryan, by the way,” he said as the woman got back in the car, and the man started driving away. Nebbia nodded at him, shy and disturbed, but drawn to his dark eyes. “You're lucky we found you.”

“Ryan, shh!” the woman said from the front and put a finger to her lips.

The boy shrugged, but kept his eyes on Nebbia who felt even smaller in the big seat of the truck. Her confused gaze wandered past the leathery interior, and she realized they were driving right by the house she had just left, and she pressed her lips together to not make a sound as she noticed the flashing lights of the ambulance and a cop car in the driveway.

Breathing quicker through her nose, she looked away and stared at her trembling hands in her lap. “It's okay, it's over,” the boy next to her whispered, and she looked up in surprise. “You're safe now.”

She frowned at him, but he only smiled, and to this day she had no idea how they had even found her, why at that particular moment, if it was coincidence or planned a long time ago, and she wondered why they didn't come sooner, before she had to go through all of this. Yet her anger soon faded, and she felt more and more at ease, even though she had no idea who these people were, but the more distance they put between her and that awful house, the freer she felt, the better she could breathe.

Whatever lay ahead, it couldn't get any worse.

And luckily for her, she finally, after so many years of hardships and months of abuse, finally found a home that welcomed her with open arms, with smiles and kind words, and for two long years she felt safe, was able to grow and prosper, live a normal life with new friends, she even found love and successfully worked through her trauma, or so she thought.

Because she might have been able to rid the world of two abusive and negligent people who would no longer take in innocent kids to leech off the money the government would give them, but she hadn't managed to destroy the last danger that threatened to pull her down into the abyss all over again.

And fate was apparently a very cruel mistress to bring the same danger right into the safe haven she had called home. But luckily for her, there were still other forces in her favor because this time she wasn't alone anymore. She wouldn't be facing the threat on her own, she was no longer the silently enduring kid, she had grown, not necessarily in height, but in strength and willpower, in the desire to live and keep living, and nothing would be standing in her way.

Or so Nebbia hoped as she lay trembling in Sebastian's arms, still recovering from the wave of panic attacks a single look from those cold gray eyes had caused in her. And she couldn't even imagine what actually meeting James again would be like.

← CHAPTER 2 - // - CHAPTER 4 →

End notes: What do I even say to this? All I can say is: I am sorry and I hope you know this is fiction, in its darkest form, but still not real, no matter how realistic it may seem. I am sorry if I caused you any discomfort, believe me, it was hard to write as well.

Nebbia's trauma is now told and it can only go up from here. Right? Yes! (Maybe... probably.) It will, there will be a happy ending, sort of. We need to have darkness to enjoy the light!

Thank you for reading this, despite its twisted nature!

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