A loud crash and cussing woke you up. Stretching in the bed, you slowly got up and walked down the hallway. Peeking through the kitchen doorway, you watched as your boyfriend picked freshly cut mushrooms from the ground. The pan from which the mushrooms fell from was also lying on the floor.
Boyfriend.
Weird word for the man kneeling in front of you. He was far from a boy - statue and age wise. It felt weird introducing him as a boyfriend, but also calling him your partner was weird since he actually was your partner at work.
It still felt surreal to you that you got to wake up to him almost every day. Even though it's been well over a year since you came out as a couple at work.
There were at least two people that were not happy about it. Although you suspected that there were more...or maybe they just found it weird / interesting.
But there were more people that were happy that you two got together. Before anything happened, they said he had a soft spot for you.
It turned out they were right. But not at that time. He was just nice because you were nice.
"Enjoying the view?" Robert teased you out of your thoughts.
"You know I like you on your knees." You teased back. He was so different now than at work.
"You know you just have to ask." He got up, putting all the vegetables on the counter and slowly walked to you. Your neck strained as you looked up at him. Bending his head, he kissed you.
"Good morning." You smiled as you parted.
"Morning is just fine." He muttered. He was tired and anxious. It has been a tough week at work. Mostly for him. He was working from early morning to late in the evening.
"Let me take care of breakfast, you go get ready for work." Putting your hand over his on the pan.
"No, no, I came here spontaneously last night. This is the least I can do." He kissed your forehead. He was so tall. And surprisingly strong. And so sure.
God, you really did love this man.
He started making the scrambled eggs.
"You know you are always welcome at my place. You don't need to redeem yourself." You hugged him from behind and kissed his shoulder through the shirt.
"I know, but I still feel bad. It's a hard week for both of us and I know you're also working late into the night. I don't want to be a bother." You chuckled at that.
"You have never been a bother, Rob." You sighed. He had this habit of always thinking he was too much or that he was unwelcomed.
It started slowly. You were intrigued by him, he was always so poised and so formal. But then you met him at a celebration and he was nothing like you pictured.
He was fun.
And funny. Still very nerdy but in an endearing way.
Slowly you started finding out more about him - he worked out, but he successfully hid everything under his clothes, he had a soft spot for his grandma and took her out for walks regularly, he was into board games which surprised you since he was a bit older and looked so serious.
He loved to make fun of life.
You two crossed paths professionally at the worst possible time. He hated working with your department and disliked debating whether the department can or can't do one thing. And to ease the tension you called him and together you talked for over an hour, bypassing the pressing subject and reaching topics you didn't know he was interested in. You went out for beer and slowly your friendship began to bloom. You didn't think much about it, until one day when he joined you for lunch and something shifted as you listened to him.
You liked him...more than just a friend.
Robert noticed you staring at his lips with a far-away look in your eyes. He had been feeling some type of way for you for a while now, but you were a little younger than he'd normally go for...but...
"Come on." Robert stood up and started walking, you trailing behind him, puzzled as to what was happening. He pulled you into the men's toilet, pushing you into the wall and kissed you hard.
As you separated, he smirked at you.
"I wanted to do this for a while." Robert smirked, fixing his glasses. You watched him, your chest heaving before you were on him again. He had a hard time restraining both of you from violating one or two rules at work.
"Remember our first kiss?" You asked.
"Of course I do." Rob chuckled. "I remember also the few moments right after that."
"What made you kiss me at that point?"
Robert stopped cooking, putting the pan away from heat.
"Well...I don't know if you remember but a few days before that we were having a drink and you said that you want to live life as much as you can and have as little regrets as possible." Robert smiled as he thought back to that conversation. "I wasn't planning to hit on you, but then when we were having lunch you kept looking at my lips and I realized that you also had a thing for me...probably."
"I remember the conversation - you said that my way of thinking made me a hedonist, which I still vehemently disagree with." You giggled. "When did you know though?"
"That I liked you?" You nodded. "Almost from the start. I mean, you are gorgeous and you always lit up the room whenever you entered. But I think I realized that I might be interested in dating you just after that party, when we had that impromptu lunch together. We were both so uncomfortable until you just decided to start talking." Robert smiled. "When did you know?"
"I will be very corny now, but you know how it's summer and the slowly it starts turning into fall, but you don't notice it until there are piles of dead leaves on the floor." Rob chuckled. "It's subtle, you don't notice it until the moment when it's so glaringly obvious."
"So cheesy, I love it." He bent down, kissing you. "I love you."
If you’re writing something that involves an aspect of life that you have not experienced, you obviously have to do research on it. You have to find other examples of it in order to accurately incorporate it into your story realistically.
But don’t just look at professional write ups. Don’t stop at wikepedia or webMD. Look up first person accounts.
I wrote a fic once where a character has frequent seizures. Naturally, I was all over the wikipedia page for seizures, the related pages, other medical websites, etc.
But I also looked at Yahoo asks where people where asking more obscure questions, sometimes asked by people who were experiencing seizures, sometimes answered by people who have had seizures.
I looked to YouTube. Found a few individual videos of people detailing how their seizures usually played out. So found a few channels that were mostly dedicated to displaying the daily habits of someone who was epileptic.
I looked at blogs and articles written by people who have had seizures regularly for as long as they can remember. But I also read the frantic posts from people who were newly diagnosed or had only had one and were worried about another.
When I wrote that fic, I got a comment from someone saying that I had touched upon aspects of movement disorders that they had never seen portrayed in media and that they had found representation in my art that they just never had before. And I think it’s because of the details. The little things.
The wiki page for seizures tells you the technicalities of it all, the terminology. It tells you what can cause them and what the symptoms are. It tells you how to deal with them, how to prevent them.
But it doesn’t tell you how some people with seizures are wary of holding sharp objects or hot liquids. It doesn’t tell you how epileptics feel when they’ve just found out that they’re prone to fits. It doesn’t tell you how their friends and family react to the news.
This applies to any and all writing. And any and all subjects. Disabilities. Sexualities. Ethnicities. Cultures. Professions. Hobbies. Traumas. If you haven’t experienced something first hand, talk to people that have. Listen to people that have. Don’t stop at the scholarly sources. They don’t always have all that you need.
Something that literally changed my life was working with a friend on a coding thing. He was helping me create an auto rig script and was trying to explain something to me but his words were just turning into static in my brain. I was tired and confused and there was so many new concepts happening.
I could feel myself working toward a crying meltdown and was getting preemptively ashamed of what was about to happen when he said, “Hey, are you someone who benefits from breaks?”
It broke me.
Did I benefit from breaks? I didn’t know. I’d never taken them.
When a problem frustrated or upset me I just gritted my teeth and plowed through the emotional distress because eventually if you batter and flail at something long enough you figure it out. So what if you get bruised on the way.
I viscerally remembered in that moment being forced to sit at the table late into the night with my dad screaming at me, trying to understand math. I remembered taking that with me into adulthood and having breakdowns every week trying to understand coding. I could have taken a break? Would it help? I didn’t know! I’d never taken one!
“Yes,” I told him. We paused our call. I ate lunch. I focused on other stuff for half an hour. I came back in a significantly better state of mind, and the thing he’d been trying to explain had been gently cooking in the back of my head and seemed easier to understand.
Now when I find myself gritting my teeth at problems I can hear his gentle voice asking if I benefit from breaks. Yes, dear god, yes why did I never get taught breaks? Why was the only way I knew to keep suffering until something worked?
I was relating to this same friend recently my roadtrip to the redwoods with my wife. “We stopped every hour or so to get out and stretch our legs and switch drivers. It was really nice. When I was a kid we’d just drive twelve hours straight and not stop for anything, just gas. We’d eat in the car and power through.”
He gave a wry smile, immediately connecting the mindset of my parents on a road trip to what they’d instilled in me about brute forcing through discomfort. “Do you benefit from breaks?” he echoed, drawing my attention to it, making me smile with the same sad acknowledgement.
Take breaks. You’re allowed. You don’t have to slam into problems over and over and over, let yourself rest. It will get easier. Take. Breaks.
do you love yourself? no? that's okay this character you love loves you back. are you kind? that is why they love you. are you patient? that is why they love you. are you a coward are you shy are you brave are you bold are you bratty? that is why they love you. you are loved and you will not be punished for seeking love. you are loved and you will find it here in these words.
do you love yourself yet? no? that's okay this character can love you until you do. this character will point out the few traits you can relate with yourself (your smile, your laugh, you brattiness, your whimsy, your strength, your sorrow) and tell you that they love that about you until one day you can love it, if not yourself, too.
do you love yourself yet? no? but you're starting to accept that you can be loved? that there is something in you- your awkwardness, your bashfulness, your straightforward mind, you ability to heal, your ability to fight- that someone could look at and learn to adore? well done. you're right, this character does see that and adore it. you may not love yourself just now, just yet, but now you see right? That there is something to love in you?
Rohypnol has an INCREDIBLY salty taste to it. It’s disgusting. And it also isn’t a drug that acts immediately! The minute you notice the salty taste, you have about 5-10 minutes to get somewhere safe or call an ambulance, and it CAN be fought if you’re aware of it. It will make you woozy, it will make you so dizzy you can’t stand upright, it will certainly make you unable to walk properly, but if you struggle to remain conscious you can get about 20 extra minutes of consciousness from the drug before it will knock you out completely. If you’re in a public place, and the person who drugged you is trying to take you somewhere private, start. a. fight. Insist as LOUDLY and as VIOLENTLY as you can that you refuse to go anywhere with them. Odds are they’re trying to make as little of a scene as possible as they drag you away, and if you’re putting up a fight and very clearly ‘drunk’, eyes will turn on them and they’ll either need to let you go, or cause a serious scene, which they don’t want. Don’t just act like you’re just protesting being taken home, though. Fight like your life depends on it even if they aren’t assaulting you. Cause. A. Scene. That’s the last thing they want.
It was his first match back at home. Manchester. He knew it'll be bad. He knew no one besides his mom and Jerry would be happy to see him.
Though his mind kept thinking of you.
Would you spare a kind word? A flash of a smile for him? Or maybe even a hug. But he didn't dare to hope. All he knew was that he wanted to find you. See you again.
Apologize.
So before the team got up for the morning practice, he put on his hoodie and jogged all the way to the café he knew you owned.
And there you were.
He stopped at the big window and stared at your smiling face as you prepared the shop to open. It was amazing to see you so content, and he was so proud. You really made it - you had your own coffee shop and a good one, according to Google reviews. It was a cozy place, walls lined with books and plants, all your favorite things. His will was wavering and his anxiety was rising, his chest heaving. But he needed to do this. It was now or never.
He entered the café carefully, and he heard you humming to yourself as the steamer made its normal high-pitched noise. You busied yourself around the coffee machine, completely oblivious to the fact that you had company observing your every move.
Jamie was trying to think of a way to pull you out of your world, but he couldn't think of a justifiable reason. You looked so happy, reaching for cups and different coffee beans. That is until you finally turned around to fill the cookie jar on the counter and let out a shriek of surprise as you found a person standing inside the still closed coffee shop.
"Jamie fucking Tartt. As I live and breathe." You finally smiled as you realized who was standing in front of you. Making your way around the counter you wrapped your arms around him. Jamie was taken aback by the sudden hug but once the initial shock wore off his hands grabbed your torso and brought you even closer to him.
"Matcha latte?" You asked as you sat him down at one of the tables at the back. With just one look at him, you knew feeding him coffee would be a bad idea.
"Sure."
"How have you been?" He asked as he waited and stared at you.
"Busy. You know how it is." You flashed him a smile, but didn't linger. "How have you been? I saw that Richmond is making stride, congrats!"
"Yeah..." Jamie didn't sound as confident or cocky as you were used to, so your head immediately snapped back from the matcha and you finally took him in. Properly this time. Before, you just assumed it might be before-game-jitters.
"Jamie, what's wrong?" You asked concerned.
"I've been meaning to contact you for a while now." He paused and met your eyes. "I've been a shit person. You didn't deserve it and I never got to say it when I got the chance, but...I love you. I always have. Since that day that you pushed me down in the forest and sat on me because I was being a cocky little prick." You smiled at that.
"I wish I could take all the bad stuff back. I wouldn't have hurt you. And I wouldn't have left. I am so sorry." Jamie hung his head.
"That must've been weighing on you for a long time." You replied with a pause. What he was talking about was something you didn't think about that often. Of course being the girlfriend of a young football star and then being left very abruptly phased you and impacted your future relationships, but therapy helped a lot. It's not just that Jamie was a prick, no sugarcoating needed there, but you weren't a sunshine either. "Jamie, we both weren't great people - we were still basically teenagers. You were going pro in football and I was going abroad for university. We would have broken up eventually or someone would have cheated and I think while the execution was not great, you did the only right thing. So, I hold absolutely no hard feelings for you." You smiled and he finally lifted his head to look at you.
"As for the confession about love...why don't you first get into the good graces of Manchester and then we can talk, I don't plan on jeopardizing my entire life because the man I want to date is hated by the whole fucking city."
"Wait...would you want to go on a date with me?" Jamie asked, looking shocked.
"Well, I'm single and the only guy I ever really loved in my life just said that he still loves me, so I guess so?" You grinned.
"Can I kiss you?" Jamie stood up from his seat, with a little more pep and you nodded, stepping closer to him with a ridiculous smile on your face. It was like muscle memory when your lips met and suddenly all the other guys made sense - you never liked kissing them as much as Jamie. Your therapist offered that idea to you but it dawned on you just now.
Warnings: Kidnapping, obsession, attemped murder, actual murder, mentions of knives, one forced kiss, Feyd believes in his dreams & calls it fate 🙈
Feyd-Rautha smirked to himself as one of his guards rushed to tell him the news of the dead soldier. The guard graveled as his Lord excused himself from the meeting and casually strolled out of the room. It was time for sleep anyway.
If the soldier is dead, that means she probably took his knife. Feyd continued smiling as he approached the locked room you were kept in. My Little mouse.
As the door opened you clutched the knife behind your back and anxiously waited for your captor to enter the wretched room. You observed him as he entered and discarded his clothes, your eyes sneaking to the little gadget that prevents him from getting stabbed. Either he was oblivious or he was confident. Either way, this predicament you were in ends tonight.
You tried masking your breathing as he slowly advanced to you, your anxiety (or was it fear?) rising with each one of his steps. He seemed relaxed and that was your cue. Masterfully, you brought the knife out from behind your back and with all your strength plunged it at his abdomen.
Your victory, if you could call it that, was short lived as you realized that while the knife made impact, it made impact with his hand. You stared at his grip on the knife, clutching the blade as blood slowly dripped from it. His face was twisted in delight. And even though you were afraid, you hoped that your captivity will still come to an end, this time by the hands of your captor.
He easily pulled the knife out of your hands, as he sensed your defeat. Feyd chuckled at your boldness, you actually had the gall to try and kill the na-Baron. He already knew you were a good and sly fighter, but he didn't realize you were also this brave. He observed your demeanor and he realized you were hoping to get killed. Maybe escape was not on your mind.
"Don't worry, little mouse. I won't hurt you." He smirked. "Yet." He kept his eyes glued to yours as he discarded the knife and licked his blood-stained hand. He loved the sweet metal aftertaste the blood left behind in his mouth.
"I hate you."
"I know." His chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest. Like he found it so amusing.
"Why are you doing this then?" You gestured to the long chains that were shackled to your wrists. "Why am I here?"
"Because I want you." Feyd spoke so matter-of-factly, like it made complete sense. He breached the small distance between the two of you and stared into your eyes. "For the past couple of years, I dreamt of a figure that will lead me to becoming Emperor. She was by my side as the houses bowed down to me."
As he spoke, you recognized the dream. You've had it as well, on repeat for the last year. Feyd smirked as he saw your recognition.
"She was always hidden by a mask, her face just out of my reach. But then I took control of Arrakis, and this sand finally unveiled her." He took a dramatic pause. Like he didn't already know what the next sentence out of his mouth would be. "It was you."
"So I searched for you until I found you." Feyd caressed your hair, as if you were the most precious thing in his possession.
"Let me get this straight, because of a reoccurring dream you decided to kidnap me and keep me locked in here?" Your face hardened in disgust, flinching away slightly.
"Not a dream. Fate."
"I didn't peg you for one of those people that believe in fate."
"You're the reason why I believe in fate."
"And now what? What's your plan?" You barked.
"I'll keep you here until you submit. Until I can have you by my side, willingly. And then we take what is ours." His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and his hand traveled from your hair to your chin, gripping it tightly and lifting your chin up. You wanted to turn away as it became too overwhelming, but his lips came crashing down on yours. You felt as if he consumed you. It was too much, but Feyd's hands enveloped you, bringing you even closer together.
He couldn't get enough of you. You had a taste to you that he couldn't place. Something foreign but at the same time familiar. It was as if you were his own personal drug that he took for the first time.
Your hands pushed up against his bare chest, trying to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. So you bit him hard, drawing blood, and finally, he let you go, with the softest moan leaving his lips. You weren't under any pretense - he let you push him away. For what reason, you weren't sure, but you were glad he was a safe distance away. You willed yourself to swallow the bile that rose in your throat as his blood left a bitter taste in your cavity.
Feyd ran his fingers over his lips and sucked the blood from them. He smirked, his teeth stained with his own blood. "You really like hurting me today, Little mouse. I like this side of you."
"Take the cuffs off, and maybe you'll like me even more." You challenged, your voice shaky as you were still trying to catch your breath.
"Please, give me some credit. I may be reckless and up for a good fight, but you still killed your guard and took his knife, hoping to do the same to me. I'd be downright stupid if I let you out of those cuffs." Feyd chuckled, and he walked past you towards the only bed in the otherwise nearly empty space.
"Come now, it's time for bed."
"I'm not tired."
"That wasn't a suggestion." His voice was harder, like he was warning you. In your mind you knew, but you felt stubborn, especially after this whole debacle. So, you refused to move. Feyd didn't hear your footsteps, and he slowly turned his head to glance at you from over his shoulder. You could see how his back strained.
"You have one more chance to listen. If you don't, I will not be lenient, no matter what fate tells me." Feyd spoke in an ominous voice, and it made you rethink your choice. Slowly, you made your way towards him, and he slowly entered the bed, with you following him.
This has become a routine for you. Every night, Feyd would come back, and he would sleep next to you, holding some part of you. Most of the time, he held your hand, but tonight, he pulled you close and tucked you under his chin, inhaling your scent.
And just like any other night, while Feyd-Rautha slept peacfully, you didn't sleep a wink.
Warnings: Dark fic, 18+, Steve is not a good guy in this, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of fighting, murder in self-defense, mentions of blood, stabbing, cursing, threats, intimidation, smut (non-con, unprotected sex (STDs are no joke, make sure you’re using protection), rough sex, praising, degradation, multiple creampies, excessive cum, fingering, multiple rounds, passing out during sex). 😬
A/N: This is a VERY DARK work of FICTION, please DO NOT READ if any of the warnings trigger you, you are a minor or you find any of them disturbing. 🙏
Steve has been observing the scene from the shadows. He liked playing with his food first and you looked absolutely delicious. Prim and proper woman, with your perfectly pressed white shirt, now sporting crumpled sleeves from when his men grabbed you and brought you to him.
He loved seeing the fight-or-flight response live. There was something so satisfying seeing all thoughts running through his victims’ head as if they didn’t know they were so transparent. In most cases everyone’s first instinct was to flee from seven potential assailants, but then there was you.
It was almost liberating to see you scanning the room for something. Everyone’s eyes stopped at the door, but yours skipped through it as if you knew escape wasn’t an option.
Steve was surprised when your eyes stopped at the corner of the room where the pool sticks were neatly put away after yesterday’s game of pool. Shoving one of the men away you made a beeline for the sticks, kicking back at another man as he grabbed at your hips to stop you and grabbing one of the sticks before breaking it over your knee.
After that it was like watching a play at the opera. His men fell one by one, some were stabbed, some were unconscious and the last one was pinned to the wall. You thought you had won. If you could call killing people a win…Your victory was short-lived as clapping pulled you out of your trans.
