#(and it takes time and CONTINUAL effort to maintain it from returning to terrible like

[heylinfanclub]

God the emotional Dysregulation is. FURIOUSLY INTENSE. when I try to do art. I really hate it.

If I struggle with my brush, the pen, the program, the art, anything

IM JUST INTERNALLY SCREAMING HOW MUCH I WANNA BREAK ALL MY ELECTRONICS IN HALF I WANNA BREAK THE BONES IN MY FINGERS I WANNA FLAY A THE CREATOR OF ART ALIVE AND RIP OUT THEIR GUTS WITH MY TEETH.

It’s a fUCKING DRAWING of KITTY CATS brain CHILL THE FUCK OUT CHRIST.

[jackietorrance]

Lovely fighter

Wednesday Addams x Reader

When you arrived in Nevermore, you didn't care much about everything that happened around you, as long as you could continue with your fighting hobby, you would be completely satisfied.

Your father was an expert in threats, and this kind of contributes to an agreement between him and the director so that you had a lonely room, with no people, with no one to piss you off.

You would go to classes, enter an extracurricular activity, and return to your room, only to continue your hard training. But his routine was brutally affected when the eldest daughter of the acclaimed Addams couple entered that institution.

At first it was indifferent, you didn't even bother to talk to the girl, or at least greet her since apparently you had more interesting things to do. But when the wave of attacks of a monster began to intensify, you noticed who in all these events Wednesday had something related, not as a person behind everything, but as a kind of mysterious detective who wanted to discover the origin of all this bloody carnage, this made you a little more fascinated by the absurd talent that your opponent in fencing had.

First you managed to be fitted with her to carry out a biological project, and this gave you the first opportunity to talk to the dark girl.

The moment you entered your dorm, you were able to contemplate several bloody images of dismembered bodies, the red liquid leaking from each wound that covered the extent of the corpses, and this opened your first opportunity to talk about what you so longed for an answer. And let's say it worked, since as soon as you asked about Wednesday's peculiar interest in dead people, she soon stopped walking and turned to one of the images, presenting to you the state of each victim, and what happened to each of them, their thoughts and their conclusions and, well, you began to like the gothic girl more who maintained the same passion for shattered bodies -

All this time you spent with Wednesday was something strange and amazing, the feeling you felt when you got something new about the monster was amazing, it was something very good, but this feeling did not arise only from some curious discovery about the psychopath who lives behind the mysterious murders, it also came when you met Wednesday to talk about this idiot.

You hated the fact that the only reason you had to talk to Wednesday was because of this big idiot. You tried countless times to divert the subject and try to maintain a pleasant conversation with Wednesday, but you tried, tried and never achieved your goal. Tonight you were going out with Wednesday and one of your colleagues to look for more evidence about the monster, when you returned to Nevermore, you wanted to try to surprise Wednesday with some kind of meeting in a cemetery. The adults would pass until later that night of Rave'n and you knew that Wednesday didn't like these events, so you chose that occasion, that night, to try to declare yourself for it. But you were stupidly wrong about everything.

The moment you met Eugene, Wednesday's colleague, you soon greeted him with an affectionate smile and it was even fun to see how the boy got nervous and got in the way with the words. That's when you saw another older boy in white that you remembered vaguely going down the stairs. After his descent, it didn't take long for Wednesday to enter the small hall. "Terribly adorable," you thought. Although Wednesday always shows someone who doesn't care so much about what others saw from her, it wouldn't take an effort so that only your look is something to be desired, you yourself wanted every thing from her directed at you, only to you.

As soon as she took her final step on the massive floor, she looked at you and Eugene without any explicit emotion on her face. "Hey Wednesday, you look terribly beautiful, but I think it must be a little difficult to walk on the mud with a dress." You said a little oblivious to the situation, Eugene only watched as you approached Wednesday. "Plans canceled, and I want to say that you will no longer go to the cave," Wednesday said authoritarian.

“W-What?" is it? You asked incredulous "So you're going to the "party that you would be the only one who didn't care" about this guy?" You started to get nervous, you were aware that it had nothing to do with Wednesday's loving relationship with anyone, but that was too much.

“I don't think you have anything to do with it Y/n." Wednesday answered coldly, you and her keeping a dispute of looks, but unlike her who stood firm, you seemed like you were about to decay.

"You're right, I have nothing to do with it, and you know what, I don't care, since the only relationship we have is about this damn creature, since apparently I serve only for that, an informant of whom you abuse your will and your loyalty, funny, submission was what I had for you, I gave myself completely to you, how a lost puppy submits So far I have helped you with everything you have asked me, I have already abandoned many moments when I could do something of my own pleasure, but I have always put your needs above mine. I can't do this anymore Wednesday, I really love you, since I understood that you were a change that I liked to live, but I can't do it anymore." You ended up with the tone of your voice breaking, you being completely shattered by your small and useless passion, the problem was that you wanted this passion, anyway you wanted Wednesday, you wanted to help Wednesday with anything, but this time, you really ran out, you could not continue like this anymore, knowing that Wednesday would probably never want you back, but you continued for days and days, But you had to get real, get away from the person your heart beat so much, it worked because of her

You just left, leaving Eugene behind, and.. Wednesday

-

When you arrived at your dorm, you didn't feel anything else. You stopped in the center of the small room and concentrated to create a figure, similar to you, a clone, one of your dirty secrets. He served you, and you used him as an opponent in your training. The pain that your clones felt would go to you, since even in separate bodies, the brain of everything was still you. But regardless of the greater amount of effort, you didn't care, since you always said that this would "increase your resistance", treating it as an advantage.

You controlled your copy in front of you and positioned yourself for combat. Clones would be the best and most complicated opponents you could have, since they thought like you, they knew about you, every weak point to touch, and they were your true self, without any filter.

An individual battle began, without misery or sorrow, two strong bodies, which would withstand the weight of 1, 2 or 5 people of medium stature. When your clone advanced towards you, you closed your eyes and guided yourself by the sounds he made, your steps, moans, grunts or drops of sweat fallen on the old boards of your cracked floor. That was your strategy, guiding yourself blindly, if he didn't know what you would be looking at, or planning, you would get the best, you fully trusted your survival instincts and let yourself be carried away by your intellectual ability, you fully trusted your strategy that consisted of not knowing if it would really work or not hurt you in any way.

And that reminded someone of you. Someone you trusted, and gave your soul, your body, your time, your usefulness and your heart. A useless heart that for you only served to pump your blood and keep it alive for some time. But it also served to put her in a state of fragility by someone. Hell. You didn't like it, since your brain depended only on him and only on him, but now the damn heart made him and everything else depend on someone else to feel good, whole.

When you pressed the copy on the floor, you declared the moment as a victory for the original, and then you got up quickly frightened, with an aggressive opening of the entrance door. It was Wednesday, to your misfortune, because you knew that when you looked at her again, it only took a request for you to come back as a fool in love.

“What do you want?" You said almost like a whisper, a dry voice of screams with the doll.

“Y/n, with all this event of the monster hunt for your victims, I ended up locking myself only in it, I saw you as someone who limited himself only to that." Under normal conditions, Wednesday would not explain himself to anyone, nor if they locked him in a room to watch several honeyed movies, but it was not something normal, she needed to explain herself to you, only to you, at that moment, every wrong word she thought she could lose you forever, "I really hated how weak you left me, people who care about others are fragile Every time when you came to me just to talk about something completely obvious about the investigation, I listened and listened, I knew it was a waste of time, but seeing how happy you looked made me strange." Wednesday said, sometimes looking away and turning it in a matter of seconds, you just looked at her, attentively, listening and paying attention to every detail she let you realize, "I even tried to use Tyler as your replacement, I just wanted to forget how different you made me feel, but I can't, no matter how hard I try" At the moment Wednesday finished talking, you Wednesday looked in your face for any sign of some emotion, which you did not show, but inside was a thousand hot rocket turbines, burning you from the inside out, a satisfying feeling

You didn't see anything, you just got closer than you could, hearts beating fast, in that room, this sound was the only one that was heard, the predominant melody of damn love. You leaned over and Wednesday raised his face, hitting his lips against yours. A long-awaited moment from both parties, after so much time that passed without sincerity, Wednesday felt like a mask being removed by the person she never imagined could exist, you felt relieved, even if it meant that you would have to have less time for your fights, but you didn't care. Since you spent this time with Wednesday, you felt complete, something that not even your favorite hobby had to be able to complete.

——————————————————————————————————

English is not my first language, so I’m sorry if something went wrong

[theflashdriver]

Shades of Silver

"Are you really still not going to say anything, seriously? How long have we been trapped like this and he's still not saying anything? If they really were me, they would have said something by now," The hedgehog to her left had been ranting on and off for over an hour now, "Blaze, you must have realised the truth by now, right? I'm the real Silver, he's some sort of imposter. He's not answering any of my questions or..." The psychic's words continued to fill the air as Blaze rubbed her temples.

The guardian of the Sol Emeralds was sat within the dungeon of her palace, on an archaic bench that surely hadn't seen use for a century. She frankly couldn't remember the last time she'd been down here, it had surely been when she was a child or a young teen at the latest. The basement was far from well maintained, disused for centuries at this point as criminals now typically went to proper prisons rather than directly beneath the seat of power. This collection of cells was perhaps the only place in the palace that Gardon didn't dare tidy.

Before her stood two matching versions of Silver the hedgehog, held in side-by-side cells with their hands cuffed between the bars. Both of them looked to be approximately the same age, even if recent experiences marked them both differently. The first to arrive had been covered in soot and so had been quick to clean himself up, while the second still wore countless dark stains upon his white fur. There was also the matter of bandaging, tending the hedgehog's wounds was typically the first thing they did together upon his return from whatever timeline he'd found himself in- only the first psychic to arrive had been afforded that effort.

That latter truth led to the reality Blaze had been ruminating on ever since she'd taken this seat. It would be a lie to say that she hadn't noticed any abnormality in the first Silver upon his arrival... but, though she surely couldn't stand to admit it, she had been rather swept up in those differences. Perhaps even captivated by them?

He'd met her at the beachfront, that had become their most frequent rendezvous point. The dimension hopper had stumbled out from a whirling blue portal, as he did more commonly than not when able to return by his own hand. The soot covered hedgehog had tumbled right into her lap, landing chest to chest with her. Rather than quickly rise, the hedgehog had hugged her tighter than ever and murmured endlessly about how much he'd missed her.

She'd tried to drag him back to the palace, but he hadn't been so quick to seek treatment. While he told her of the world he'd survived, the hedgehog had repeatedly rerouted them to wander. The two had ended up strolling the beachside, then waltzing over waves he'd hardened with psychic power. They'd practically danced around the entire island's perimeter, wandering over rock pools and beneath leaping dolphins. He'd told her of his time away, of the terrible state he'd found the world in and his plan to make it better, but he'd worn a smile rather than his usual sullen seriousness. His talk would always return to how happy he was to be here again. To be with her again.

When they'd finally arrived at the castle grounds he'd literally swept her off of her feet, one of his arms around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. Before the cat could blink they were floating, less than a moment later soaring; flying over the royal gardens and around to her bedroom window. With no more than the wave of a single finger the balcony windows had opened and he'd carried the cat over the threshold, letting them in without so much as Gardon noticing. He'd grinned at her, much too proud of himself, and forgotten to put her down for far too long.

In the private sanctum that was the royal bedchamber, she'd managed to finally force him to sit still and take treatment. They'd spoke for hours about the world he'd arrived in, all the while she'd tended his wounds. He'd told her of the impossible future he'd arrived in, of a world where the earth beneath his feet would writhe and flex as if it was a living creature. He'd seen eyes in the dirt, jaws made of stone, and clay arms grasping up- all of which came in countless shapes and sizes. Apparently he'd been pushed across an entire continent by a giant wave of earthen refuse, struggling to keep himself on the surface of that impossible tidal wave. If he hadn't cast the portal in front of himself, it sounded like he'd have been thrown off of the continent and into whatever had become of the sea.

The whole time hey'd sat together, there'd been a certain tension had hung in the air; he'd worn a certain bashfulness that she hadn't often seen from him. The hedgehog was always clingy upon his return, but this time he had been more extreme. His touch had lingered upon her forearms, her cheeks, and further so very casually, so comfortably. No fewer than thrice he'd leaned in so very close with an over serious expression on his muzzle, but when she'd pry as to what was on his mind he'd turn away and mutter a half-hearted excuse. He'd grown more and more regretful in the aftermath of each ask; the cat had thought she was doing something wrong, that perhaps his wounds were more serious than she'd anticipated.

Well, she'd tried to convince herself of that likely reality, rather than consider certain other imagined truths.

Her administering of aid had been interrupted by a knock at the balcony window. Blaze had turned after securing another bandage, expecting some poorly timed prank from Marine, only to find herself face to face with another Silver. She'd thrown a look back at the psychic she'd tended only to find a look not of surprise on his face, but realisation; Blaze knew for certain that the first hedgehog hadn't been shocked to see another of himself. From then on, that version's actions had only gotten stranger.

That first Silver wasn't even looking at her- he'd turned away and kept his face to the far cell wall, not even looking in the direction of the more talkative Silver. Unlike the other one, this hedgehog had simply done as she'd commanded without a word of complaint. She hadn't ever led Silver down here before but the hedgehog had seemed to know exactly where he was going, even walking into a cell by himself. Without hesitation, and before she could request it, he'd shut the door and stuck his arms through the bars to be cuffed.

Peculiar as his actions were, they weren't those of an invader. For one, if anything, he was making himself look more suspicious with his current charade than he had been while roaming free. He'd let himself be walked to the dungeons and locked up, even though he was obscuring his face it wasn't as if he was truly hiding anying. Regardless, going from talkative and kindly to mute wasn't doing anyone any favours, no matter what his origins were. If he was meant to be some sort of threat, he was doing an extremely unthreatening job.

The Silver on her left had stopped talking, the feline looked up. He was staring out at her, fingers caressing the chains connecting his handcuffs. The sight of him in this position was odd enough, let alone there being a second version stood only separated from him by a thick stone wall.

"You've gone quiet now too..." Contemplation had claimed his expression, "Could it be that I'm in the wrong dimension?"

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking. I don't think you're in the wrong dimension," Blaze answered, "I don't think either of you are."

"What, you think this guy is my future self or something?" Clearly he'd had the same thoughts as her already, "But if that's the case, why isn't he saying anything! Why did he fight me?"

"You attacked him first," Blaze bluntly pointed out.

"Right, but if he'd just said something I would have stopped," The talkative Silver kicked the cell wall that separated them, "Why aren't you talking?!"

The second psychic didn't so much as flinch as a stone tumbled free and into his side. He was still facing that wall, head practically tucked into the front left corner of his cell. Despite his attempts to obscure his face, the potential time traveller's body language was easy to read. That Silver was buried deep in though, keeping his musings contained behind his lips- unlike the one on the left.

Moments after his arrival at her window, once the floating hedgehog had locked eyes with his sat counterpart, he had smashed through the glass and surged toward his doppelganger self. A psychokinetic brawl erupted in the heart of the royal bedchamber; palm-strikes and psychic shockwaves had shook the space and tossed clutter all across her room. The pair bounced off of each other, their abilities perfectly neutralising one another- that was until the stained hedgehog had crouched with his feet planted against the far wall. 

That Silver had pounced enveloped in a sparkling aura, sending cracks through her bedroom wall as he flew with palms raised. His bounding attempt was caught by his mirror image; grasps locked and psychic energy sparked like lightning. Harnessing the leaping hedgehog's momentum, his standing counterpart spun him around before launching him back into that already cracked wall. The second hedgehog smashed through brick but was quick to rise, his body still fully aglow.

It was only in the wake of one gaining the upper hand that Blaze dared to intervene; throwing a fireball between the pair and having it expand to form a blockade. From then on the bandaged Silver hadn't so much as grunted, no matter how the other chastised and barked. It was only when she had raised the solution of separating them for interrogation that he had so much as moved, on the walk to the basement he had simply stewed in quiet contemplation and thrown the occasional scathing look at his double. Even though he was still refusing to talk, a choice which had greatly impacted the interrogation, the guardian was certain he was assessing his counterpart with the same scrutiny as he was being analysed with.

"It's obvious he's the fake, isn't it? If he was like me he could break out of these cuffs without even trying," The Silver on her left insisted, "Watch."

The hedgehog braced against the bars with his boot and stared to lean back. Cyan light flared bright, the hum of psychic might filled their quiet surroundings to echo deeper into the dungeon. His teeth grit as the feline jumped to her feet. 

"I know you can break free," Blaze stepped closer, "Coming down here was a test of willingness and to separate you both so you'd stop fighting, you don't need to-

The bar broke before the cuffs could; the hedgehog was sent tumbling back over himself. He crashed backwards, slamming the back of his head through a hanging bench made of long rotten wood. 

"Are you okay?" She asked, already mostly knowing the truth.

"I'm fine," His already stained fur was now a shade greener.

There was something strange in his tone, more than just embarrassment. Silver often got angry at himself; when it came to saving the world, he'd beat himself up whether he was successful or not. This was different though, an emotion he hadn't really experienced from him. The cat couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I'll get you cleaned up when this is all over," She promised, battling back her own overthinking, "We just need to sort whatever is happening here first and make sure we're safe. My world might be in danger from one of you two, I can't put my people at risk."

His expression softened, "You're right. I shouldn't-

"Okay," The Silver to her right finally spoke, Blaze's head spun, "I think, with him having broken the bench, I can start talking now."

"What do you mean start talking now?" The one to her left grumbled, dusting off his quills from his still prone position.

"The me in this cell didn't start talking until I'd fallen over last time," The right Silver exposited.

"Last time?" The left Silver groaned.

"I am indeed a future version of the hedgehog in the cell to my right," He explained, eyes still locked on the wall furthest from the other hedgehog.

"You're only admitting that now, after we explained that was a possibility," Blaze tutted, glowering at him, "You understand how that looks, don't you?"

"I do, unfortunately," The hedgehog sighed, "But, like I said, the version of me in this cage didn't start talking until I'd put my head through the bench."

"But it's not as though anything was actually stopping you from talking, was it?" Blaze pushed back, "Taking his falling as a good point to start talking, that seems much too simple."

"I know he just put his head through the bench," He pointed out, "Isn't that proof?"

"That's easy enough to guess," Blaze rationalised, though she was slightly convinced, "You heard him at the bars and you heard him fall back. It makes sense that he'd go through head first."

A quiet pause filled the stagnant air, leaving a void which Blaze easily filled with thoughts. There was a reason she had come up with this as a hypothesis, it was what made the most sense and was the most obvious. Neither of the hedgehogs stood before her had truly caused any trouble or harm to her kingdom, only to each other and her bedroom. One had been given the perfect opportunity to attack or hold her captive, the other had been free to travel the islands and steal the Sol emeralds, but neither had taken advantage of those most ideal situations. Both hedgehogs, albeit one more begrudgingly than the other, had let themselves be brought down here and incarcerated. There was no true malice in either of them, no sign of a darker motive. Perhaps he was telling the truth, but she couldn't act on a hypothesis alone...

"Look, I just don't want..." The other Silver still wasn't looking her way, "To risk altering the timeline. Other me, you should be committing all that I say to memory. I would have told one of you to grab a notebook but the older version of me didn't do that last time, didn't mention it until now, so I can't chance it."

"You're even scared to make the wrong face, that you'll change something by doing that," Blaze realised aloud.

"That's stupid," The lying Silver fumed.

"It can take less than the flap of a butterfly wing to change the future," Despite the angle of his muzzle, Blaze could tell by his figure that the hedgehog was still more than a little frustrated by his counterpart, "Well, I'm hoping that much won't change things drastically enough to undo all of our work. I don't remember everything this version of me said and did perfectly..."

"What do you mean undo our work?" The once fallen Silver had finally hopped back to his feet.

"Come on, we both know this better than anyone," The other Silver hissed, "Changing the past changes the future. If I change your experience, I change my own." 

"Even if what you're saying is true," The now risen Silver scoffed, "We've not been affected by time paradoxes ever since that first one with Solaris. Why would changing things matter now?"

"Right, we haven't been affected, but the worlds we travel to have been replaced time and time again," He half shouted over, still facing the wrong way, "We probably weren't even born anymore, but the futures we would have been born into have been shaped by how we've change in the past. If I say the wrong thing and slip up, it might mean you'll act differently and that could result in a different future when you return to see how the world next ends."

"What, you're thinking that a few minor changes will be enough to make a time paradox that will rewrite all of the time paradoxes you've supposedly caused?" Silver questioned, "Considering all the effort it takes for me to change history, what damage could a few minor shifts actually do?"

"I don't think it's worth chancing," The other countered, "And you won't either when you're in my position, not if you value the lives we're saving."

"Well now it sounds like you're trying to make me the villain in this situation," The second arrival followed up, "I think you're trying to make Blaze take your side while explaining as little as possible."

"He's only saying what he is now because you will go on to say it, having heard it from him in your then past which is now..." Blaze considered aloud.

"You can't tell him about the future I've come from," The right Silver very quickly informed her, "You didn't when I was stood in that cell and you never did afterwards."

"Well, if you won't talk about our future, how are we mean to prove that I'm going to become you?" The left Silver countered.

"You still don't get it, I can talk about our future," The apparent older hedgehog grumbled, "Just only the parts I already heard myself say."

"Then when are you from in my future, how much further on? That's the first question that came to my mind, so surely you asked it too," The apparent youngster pried.

"I did ask that, but I'm not giving you the answer. You could use it to change my past and your future," The right psychic responded.

"Ignoring the future, you can surely talk about your shared past, correct?" Blaze cut in.

"I can now that you've asked me," He answered, "What do you want to know?"

"Oh so you'll answer her questions, just not mine," The other Silver grumbled out, "He's trying to get on your side again Blaze, trying to turn you against me."

"What state was the future he just left in?" Blaze asked, ignoring the more talkative Silver's words but pointing to him, "I haven't heard about that yet, he can confirm it."

"The future he came from is just as destroyed as every one we've found prior. The streets are stalked by creatures from another world coming in all shapes and sizes. Giant worms, three legged lunging spiders, living disks that float through the air, and so much more. All of them implanted with strange circuitry," At the sounds of a grumble from his parallel cage, the older hedgehog continued to elaborate, "His investigation has shown that Eggman was responsible. He sent a message out into space, trying to attract all manner of interstellar travellers only to steal their crafts and combine their technology with his own. He used the guise of alien arrivals to secure meetings with governments across the world, then harnessed some sort of mind control technology to gradually take control. With the aliens to blame, the doctor got our friends on his side," Regret had entered his tone, "He was able to convince them because of a prior invasion by a group called The Black Arms. One by one Sonic, Amy, and everyone else was put under mind control. It was all Eggman's doing."

"Of course Eggman was involved, he's always involved," The second Silver to arrive battered back.

"He's right about everything though, isn't he?" Already able to tell by the crouching hedgehog's frown.

His face scrunched up, that was answer enough, "Yes."

"How could he have known that if he isn't you?" The cat questioned.

"He could have been there in the future, watching me investigate, plotting to take my place. He could even have watched the very past that he's explained happen and then travelled here to match me," The likely younger Silver's hands were tugging at his chest fur, "If that's the case, he must understand the Chaos Emeralds or be able to harness a power like them; he could have timed his arrival to get here before me. We both know he arrived early, I was on time."

"Were you?" The slightly older hedgehog prodded, "You had to come find her, we can't know that for sure."

"I only had to look for her because you took her away!" The left Silver barked, "It doesn't change the fact you were early."

"I don't think I was particularly early," They really weren't getting along, "Though, as my position here does suggest, my most recent journey has gone awry..." The hedgehog made silence only to quickly fill it, "I don't want to explain why that mistake happened, because you might try to avoid it and cause a paradox."

"I won't!" The second Silver harrumphed.

"You might, even subconsciously," The response rang, "Besides, when I was in that cage I didn't get a proper explanation either. I'm not risking a time paradox when I already know this will all work itself out."

"That's very convenient," The left psychic fumed, "Both that you can't explain and that your apparent mistake made you arrive before I did."

"Judging by our current situation, I would argue that the opposite is true," The right sighed, "To be honest, when I arrived I noticed things were slightly different between me and Blaze, but I was exhausted and didn't want to assume anything. I thought it'd just been a long day..."

What did that mean? Blaze felt her heart skip a beat as her mind started to race. Their brief time alone together had brought with it an upwelling of thoughts the cat had been suppressing for a very long time. Was there a reason for that? Did his assumption explain why she felt a spark in the air? Was that Silver's relationship with his present Blaze more-

"If you really are a future me, what am I going to say next?" The potentially younger Silver asked, cutting off her train of thought, "If you are repeating the timeline correctly, then I must be about to say the same as what you did. I'll commit that to memory and be able to recall it when I'm you."

"No, you won't. Because, as I was told and am about to tell you, that won't work because if I do say what you were about to say then you'll surely say something different, resulting in me never having learned what you meant to sau," The hedgehog claimed.

Blaze wasn't sure that was correct, wouldn't the Silver sat in the left cage have to just remember what he thought he was going to say rather than what he literally intended to say? Then again, if the Silver to her right was repeating all he'd heard said, then issues in their shared logic had to be repeated to. After all, it wasn't as though this situation had ever happened to them prior. Well, it had happened to one of them prior? This was all more than a little confusing.

"Fine, I'll be specific, what am I thinking right now?" The second Silver to arrive interrogated.

"That if I was somehow able to guess what you were thinking, you'd be certain I was actually some sort of villainous telepath and that is how I'm deriving all my knowledge," The other Silver bluntly responded, "You came up with that theory just before proposing asking me what you were about to say."

The expression of the Silver who'd asked said it all "Well, you're right but that hasn't improved our situation at all."

"That only would have worked if I was wrong, as it would have proven that I'm a threat pretending to be you," By the flick of his ears, Blaze knew that the Silver on the right had rolled his eyes as he gestured to his supposed prior self, "That's what he's thinking now, to be clear."

Blaze looked to the more frustrated Silver and instantly knew the other was correct. This was exhausting. Despite purportedly being the same person, the two plainly did not get along.

A thought entered Blaze's mind- a stupid idea, the kind that forced her gaze from the pair and to the ground. Were they fighting over her? Was that why the two were so annoyed with each other? The second Silver to arrive would have seen at least the last moments of her time with the first; how he had been sat on the foot of her bed, the space that had only ever been used by him. Well, it still had been, they were the same person! Well, they probably were... either way though, it seemed like-

"Blaze," The left Silver's call stole the cat from her thoughts, "Have you realised something?"

"No," She snapped much too quickly, fidgeting with the keys to their cages, "Be quiet, I'm thinking."

"Why are you taking his side again?" He grumbled back.

"I'm not taking sides," The cat pushed back against him and her own juvenile thoughts, "I'm trying to figure this out."

If the Silver on the right was correct then there was no problem here. The two of them could co-exist, if only they would get along. Presuming that the older hedgehog knew what to do to avoid causing paradoxes, the two could probably even live together in the palace- if not, then spread across her kingdom. Perhaps all would be fine if she could keep the two apart, limiting their risk of damaging the space time continuum. She could split her time between them...

The thought of having two Silvers, still surely competing over her sprang back into the cat's mind. Immediately her brain was flooded with all manner of foolish ideas; of the endless spiral that was their potential battle over her. How often would they fight over her? Would they compete in other ways? Would they try to-

Blaze's fists clenched as she forced away those foolish thoughts, she could send away the older psychic- forward to his own time. The only wrinkle was the evil he could do if he truly was a liar, despite all the sense he was making. If he had been planning something, and her Silver had arrived in time to catch him off guard and stop it, then the apparent older hedgehog was possibly just biding his time. By going along with all this and being affable, she was affording him the benefit of the doubt. What if she sent him away and he was some sort of dimension-jumping shapeshifter, what if he had gained some important information about her kingdom? He'd gone the extra mile, he'd danced her around town rather than letting her treat his wounds immediately...

"Are you okay?" She had been looking down, the feline stared blankly at the pair of them.

"Which one of you said that?" The cat had to ask.

"He did," And "It was me," Rang out in the exact same voice, indicating the Silver on the left, now sat back on the ground.

"Well, he said he thought you'd had a long day," That Silver explained, "Between that and this confusion, I realised you'd been questioning us without us checking in on you."

"He's right," The other piped up, "How are you, has everything been okay today?"

"I'm fine," The cat insisted, "I'm not the focus, we still have-

"Given when I think we are, you should be debating with yourself over how best to spread the Sol Emeralds across the various islands. You want their local inventors to have the opportunity to use them, to upgrade island infrastructure, but you also need to keep the kingdom safe," The future hedgehog accurately predicted, "It's been keeping you up for nights on end... or, at least, it will?"

"Can't you just tell her how to sort that out?" The sitting Silver enquired, "You know, give her the best layout possible? The one she settles on." "I wish," The standing hedgehog grumbled, "By the time you next leave and come back she'll have sorted it, without any help from us..."

"Again?!" His counterpart sounded so frustrated, "We're not good at the royal stuff..."

"Eventually we'll get better at keeping up," Was that another hint? "I mean hopefully, in the future at some point. I've not caught up yet, she keeps surprising me," Probably not, "She's always a step ahead of us..."

"She is, she always is," The second to arrive psychic was grinning.

Now they were on the same side?! A two pronged assault on her from concerned Silvers was the last thing she needed. Whether the one on the right could read minds or was from the future, he still hadn't got it through his head that she didn't take compliments well. At least the one on the left wasn't being argumentative anymore, but this was arguably worse. They were both so naive!

"I can't really blame you for taking my spot," The more talkative hedgehog continued, "That is, if you really are my future self," There were still shades of doubts at least, they weren't a perfectly united front against her, "You've been away for two weeks too, right?"

"A little less this time, due to an emergency escape. Things went wrong in ways I can't explain to you," Just when she thought they would return to bickering, that Silver continued, "All that is to say though, I know what you're feeling, more than just because I've literally been you..."

The second time traveller caught her eyeline, there was panic in his stare, "We probably shouldn't be talking about that right in front of her though, right?"

"Oh, right, yes" Her stare turned to the other psychic, only to find him still facing the corner, "You're not... sorry, I forgot. It's not been that long since I was you but it feels like longer. A lot has happened."

"I'm not what?" A response rang, What's going to happen?"

"That I really shouldn't say, you wouldn't want me to spoil that,," Another answer tutted, "You're going to have to get-

"Will you two please go back to fighting?" The cat couldn't stand to look at them, "This is-

A wave of heat rolled through the dungeon, turning Blaze's head to its source on the far right. Bright orange light flared through the dingy dark of the dungeon as fire swirled to form of a shimmering disk on the cat's far right. Once the disk had fully manifested, flashing and swirling, a much too familiar form stepped through it. A purple feline dressed in a long coat and tights, a grey Sol Emerald in one hand and a ring of rusted keys in the other. If what Blaze thought was happening was truly happening, then she had been right in her assessment of the first Silver to arrive. The second Blaze to enter the dungeon tonight wasn't noticeably older than the first. They looked exactly the same...

"What's that noise?" The Silver on the left called out, too far away to see.

The keys in the other feline's hands were immediately familiar, they were the exact same as the set between her legs. Without so much as blinking the second cat strode up to the far right cell and undid the cuffs of the enclosed hedgehog. For the first time in what felt like it'd been hours Blaze saw that Silver's expression- it was one of complete and utter shock. Meanwhile his prior self in the other cell was moving around his cell, plainly trying to figure out what was happening but lacking the necessary angle to see the second Blaze.

As if it was the most normal thing in the world, that cat went on to unlock the cage she'd presumedly historically locked her partner in. The Silver she'd freed had gone to speak, but the newly manifested guardian had grabbed him by the shoulder; pulling him out of the cell with one swift tug. Before Blaze or he could could pipe up, so very smoothly, so casually, the newly arrived pyrokinetic had captured the lips of her psychic counterpart in her own. The surprise in his eyes was immediate but that Silver quickly melted against the other Blaze's embrace. The cat felt her temperature skyrocket as he melted against that other her; she felt herself bite her tongue and curl her toes. Despite how massively flustering as this was, the guardian couldn't look away.

Words quietly trickled out of the grinning hedgehog's mouth, "So that's how this ended..."

The other feline rolled her eyes, turning to Blaze in the process. She gave no more than a nod, not speaking so much as a word, before disappearing back through the fiery portal with an arm around her Silver's waist. Well, that would be easy to remember.

"Blaze," The remaining hedgehog's voice stole the cat from her thoughts, "What's happening? I can't see."

"You're gone, Silver," She answered, her gaze falling.

'Huh, what?" The hedgehog pressed his head against the bars, still trying to catch a glance of what had already concluded, "What happened?"

Her fingers brushed her lips, was that why he'd been so forward, because she was the same? Was this their future, was it fated? He hadn't looked any older than her Silver; how soon were they destined to become like this? Was he about to make the first move? Would she? Or had she only kissed him then because she'd witnessed it now?! Was that moment set to be the start of their relationship?!

"You'll find out soon enough," Was the only reply she could muster.

[simonsquest]

Simon and Selena return to the forest of Jova after five years of marriage.

It has been five years since Simon Belmont laid siege on Castlevania. Despite the threat of Dracula now being a distant memory, Simon is still rigorous in his daily training. It is still his God-given duty to fight the creatures of the night that stalk Transylvania, and maintaining his strength is paramount to accomplishing that.

But when he crosses the threshold of his home on his return, utterly filthy from his task, Selena still stares at him with all of the adoration in the world.

Still approaches him, still kisses his lips in greeting.

Still asks if he has any injuries she needs to look at.

Simon is so grateful for her care. She has proven herself to be a devoted and dutiful wife.

Like clockwork, Simon follows his routine of years prior: he cleans himself up, eats breakfast, and he and Selena enjoy some time alone. The space is not reserved for courtship anymore—that was long assured—but they enjoy time together, reserved just for the two of them.

Simon takes the initiative to open the door for her, and Selena smiles at him as they exit their home.

It has been years, thus they have nearly exhausted all conversations points. But unlike in their early years, the silence was not suffocating. Not unwelcome. Rather, they needn’t occupy the air at all with words: taking in the peaceful sound of silence together is more than welcomed.

Simon looks out past the gates of the Belmont estate. Selena stills her walk, following his gaze.

She takes the initiative in leading them towards the forest of Jova. Simon follows closely.

During the day, the forest is a lush sanctuary. Even as night falls, creatures of the night have not frequented it in recent years. A result of Simon’s accomplishments in felling Dracula, no doubt. He hopes the trend continues: he can breathe a little easier knowing the threat isn’t as close to his family.

Still, he can’t be too careful—he’s equipped with his whip as usual.

The pair is greeted by the soundscape of birds singing their lovely spring melody as they approach a familiar clearing. Spouses remark their surroundings in their own way: Selena minds the flowers growing at her feet, and Simon admires how the sun streams through the foliage above.

They take in the fresh air.

Simon is pulled from his focus with the weight of Selena approaching his side. She has placed a gentle hand on his back before leaning into his side. Simon supports her weight easily, slipping an arm around her shoulders. There they linger for a few quiet moments.

“Do you remember when we first came here?” Selena asks, her tone quiet and gentle.

“How could I forget?” Simon replies with a certain tenderness, drawing her closer still.

The day she chose to stay by Simon Belmont’s side, and shoulder their terrible fate together.

How things have changed: the darkness has been dealt with. Dracula is slain, due to Simon’s incredible efforts. The land is beginning to recover from his influence, and Simon continues to be the valiant guardian of the land and its people. Selena cannot help but stare at him with swelling fondness.

They have grown so attached following his victory. He returned to her, wounded, but alive. She saw to his recovery with her own hands, and during which, they allowed their walls to come down.

They melt closer into each other as they reminisce.

“Despite your hesitation, you chose to stay by my side.” Simon begins, warm and low.

Selena’s smiling as she nods once thoughtfully in reply.

“You were so worried, then. Like you could hurt me with nothing more than a touch.” Selena echoes quietly between them.

Selena breaks away from Simon’s embrace to take his hand and lead them to the same log from years ago.

“I was terrified.” Simon admits softly as he is led by her.

A gentle squeeze of their hands. “I was scared, too.” Selena adds as she takes her seat on the log. Simon joins her by her side.

“It doesn’t help things that I thought you disliked me.” Selena adds with a laugh, bright and soft. Simon can’t help but chuckle too.

“Oh no, I definitely liked you.” He reassures earnestly. “But I thought you despised me.”

Selena purses her lips at that with a hum as she ponders, which she can see surprises Simon. His reaction is cute.

“I didn’t despise you, I’m only teasing.” Selena scoots a bit closer to him. “I merely didn’t know you. We both were just trying to protect ourselves by not letting each other in.”

Simon nods in agreement before looking ahead.

“Thank you for letting me in.” He whispers, and it’s heartfelt.

Selena softens at that, sliding her hand over his. He does not freeze at the gesture. Instead, he takes her hand gently into his own.

“I should be thanking you,” Selena whispers, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You treated me so carefully, worked at my pace, and respected my boundaries. I was worried to be handed off to such a rugged warrior, and yet…”

They squeeze their hands as Selena shares, on such a bashful whisper: “you proved your kindness. Before I knew it, my heart was yours.”

Simon could die on the spot at her genuine confession. Gently, he takes her hand, and brings it to his lips. He kisses upon her knuckles, just above her wedding band, with a lingering tenderness.

He is so, so fortunate to have her.

“And mine is yours.” Simon echoes quietly, eyes glancing to gauge her expression. Selena’s face is softly flushed. God, she’s so beautiful.

“Would you change anything?” Simon asks as he returns her hand between them.

Selena thinks on it for a moment. A memory comes to her, and she stifles a laugh: “our wedding day, maybe.”

Of course. Simon smiles uneasily as his glance falls to the floor: Selena was abducted by Dracula on their wedding day, and Simon could only watch as it happened, totally unequipped.

It’s largely the reason why he always has the Vampire Killer when he’s out with her now. Just in case.

“I’ll never forget reuniting with you in Dracula’s Castle,” Selena adds, softening the unfortunate reminder. “You looked terrifying as you fought, covered in blood.”

That was supposed to be a comforting image? Simon can’t help but laugh, bashful.

“My hero had come to rescue me. Like some fairytale.” Selena giggles at how girlish it sounded. Simon stifles his embarrassment at the memory of it. He was on a mission, and doesn’t remember if he even said anything to her before he grabbed her and started sprinting out of that terrible place.

It was hardly as romantic as Selena is depicting it. But he appreciates that she seems to remember it fondly. He can’t help but chuckle. Such an unfortunate occurrence.

The wedding itself was unfortunate, too: borne of necessity, and not yet love. Impersonal.

Hm.

Simon wonders something as he stands, still holding softly onto Selena’s hand. She notes his change, but only watches from her seat.

He moves to stand in front of her. Selena is looking up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but he isn’t looking at her.

She’s surprised as he kneels before her, using both of his hands to hold onto hers.

His thumbs rub over her knuckles: a gesture of affection that Selena is used to, by now. It’s so Simon.

“Will you marry me?” Simon whispers, still not looking at her.

Selena blinks, processing, before she erupts into a bright giggle.

“We’re already married, Simon.” Selena reminds, oozing with fondness as she adds her other hand between them. Simon takes it readily, cracking a smile at the absurdity of asking such a thing.

“Of course I will, dearest.” Selena adds, her voice so soft and genuine.

Simon finally looks up to meet her eyes. They exchange a look for only a moment before she crashes against him, kissing him deeply.

She topples him over onto his back in the grass, and he lets her without any resistance. They’re all smiles and giggles as they kiss. Selena’s hands cradle Simon’s face, and his land on her hips as she straddles him.

Selena parts, and with a breathless giggle, looks down at him under their compromising position. Her thumb caresses his cheek as she whispers between them:

“We never had a proper wedding night to consummate our marriage, did we?”

Simon can feel the heat of embarrassment flush his cheeks at the implication.

“No,” he breathes, battling the smirk that works its way onto his lips. “Would that please you, missus Belmont?”

She dips down to kiss his lips with newfound passion, and Simon reciprocates readily.

When Selena parts, taking in Simon Belmont undone beneath her, she smiles warmly:

“Nothing would make me happier.”

[nathanielzalexandria]

I heard its work in progress Wednesday so here is an unfinished Steddie fic i have in the files

There was something utterly soul destroying of being weighed and found wanting by the person you gave your heart to.

She saw right through the guarded fortress that made up Steve Harrington and found him hollow. An empty husk of a person decorated in fool's gold. Hardly better than a paperweight that was a random pebble picked up from her backyard without care. Yet he was still lesser than that pebble —at least the pebble was picked up for a specific purpose and could properly do what it was brought to do. Steve was more like that one book most people recommend as being good primarily by its cover art and by word of mouth by a few only read the summary of or barely skimmed a few pages of and decided the book was the best thing in the world or exceptionally loathsome that you decided to take a chance on and actually carefully read through it only too shut the book and realize that its full pages were filled with a profound nothingness. It wasn't terrible, it clearly was not good, and it could not transcend into so bad its good territory

"Bullshit!"

And their relationship, his and Nancy's, was like spending 10 hours driving all over Indianapolis looking for tickets to Queen's Indianapolis leg of their tour only to find out that the ticket was counterfeit. And you can neither see the concert nor get back your time and efforts.

"Bullshit"

 

And him believing that someone like her who had her whole life put together could ever genuinely love someone like him didn’t even deserve an analogy. It was simply complete and utter

 

“Bull. Shit!”

It was the rudest awakening of Steve's life that night. He spent the night turning the word "bullshit" over and over in his mind, laying it against his skin to see how well it suited him. And in those small hours of the night, Steve found it fit him too well.

Everything about his life was bullshit.

Since he turned 10 his parent had not spent a full 24 hours at home and only ever spoke to him to demand and berate him. In the last two years they had only returned home once, and that was when they met Nancy, (Though they didn’t like her to be the next Mrs Harrington, they saw the potential in her as a reporter; it was always good for a rich man to have an in with the press). The day after he turned 10 his parents sat him down, with their bags already packed and waiting in the car and told him that he was the man of the house now and he would need to learn to take care of his self fully now that his parents no longer had time (nor the want) to do so. He could do anything he wanted in the house, if he kept the house clean and not tarnish the Harrington name.

So, he threw everything into sports (even to the detriment to his health with the hearing in his left ear dropping to 50% from continuous swimmer’s ear).

He slacked on studying, content with his fluctuating B/C average (his father said grades didn’t matter when you could buy your way into any school in the country).

He became popular (even though it was stressful to maintain the position)

 

The only time he ever came close to receiving a compliment from anyone that did not have to do with his hair in the past 8 years was when he achieved something in school. Seeing that he fluctuated between Bs and Cs his entire middle and high school life, Steve threw himself in to different sports to fill the year. Steve had to convince himself that he loved playing basketball so that he could continue playing the sport.

He was only friends with Tommy H because unlike everyone else, at least Tommy, and by proxy his girlfriend, stuck around. Most of anything that came out of Tommy’s mouth about others was wrong. All those crazy "Harrington" parties were really thrown by Tommy H and was doubly encouraged by his parents

[indianliv]

It’s pretty sad but...

It’s pretty sad but I’ve been seeing a really disgusting correlation between women who have no real romantic partner, that also only keep the men they have in their lives to use them for all they’ve got, and their lack of good friendship skills.

I’m no saint but I’ve been seeing the pattern too often not to call it out.

Y’all will say you want to have friends but you don’t treat them any better than the men you have in your life. I have no hope for you anymore.

Every girl I meet who I’ve seen be terrible communicators, have little to no real follow-through, only care about what they’re getting out of it when dealing with guys, have been equally negligent in their friendship with me.

I’ve been so naive to think that they’d treat me any differently just because we’re girls. It’s been quite literally the opposite.

I mean how can I expect you to be reliable, and genuinely have my best interest at heart, when the only thing I’ve seen you do with your potential life partners is revel in the drama and continuously take from them what you don’t give back? 

We don’t talk about friendship red flags enough but if we did, THAT would be one of them.

You’ll complain that some man you’re into won’t text you back within a reasonable time but you can’t seem to maintain a prompt response time when I text you either so...remind me, why are your expectations so high?

You only care that someone isn’t responding when it’s inconveniencing you but I’m supposed to just keep taking your mixxy communication to the chin...do you hear yourself?

Don’t even get me started on the ones who like to tell half the story to make you believe there’s more to it that what it seems. Y’all will jump to share information that no one asked for and I’m always confused about why? Is it that important to you for us to know? Especially when what you’re telling us is NOTHING to write home about?

No seriously, is your ego THAT big?

You’re constantly finding yourself in the same situations and scenarios and you haven’t caught on that maybe, just maybe, you’re the problem? You lack proper boundaries, you don’t have the balls to go after what you actually deserve, and you’re constantly lying to yourself about what you want in life.

I know because everytime I confront you about it, you deflect or make excuses for your lack of discernment. You never take full accountability and responsibility and so, year after year, we’re still having the same conversations about the same takeaway you should’ve grown from the last incident.

I don’t want friends like this. I want friends that value having a man in their life. I want the ones who can clearly tell me what they need from a man and the kind of man they want so I can help them find him. I want friends that are more than excited for me to meet my husband and will encourage me to get out there so he can find me. I want more women in my life who delight in doing for their man what he needs as a man.

I don’t want the friends that only see a man as an extension of their bank account or some kind of social media status symbol they can stand next to and “look good together.” I don’t want the ones who make the conscious decision to hang around girls that truly believe they should receive princess treatment without any real effort in return - and no, sex is not “real effort.”

I want more women in my life who truly want to be wives, not because it grants them the “soft life” but because they truly value having a partner to build a legacy with. A lot of these girls be out here on some cockamamey bullshit because they either want a man to save them or they’re too masculine to be the feminine one in the dynamic.

It’s a lot of women out here that look like women, dress like women, but absolutely do not behave like women. They don’t see the value in having domestic qualities and they barely have any patience, grace, tact, or compassion for the men they date. Frankly, those women are not the best girl friends. I’ve seen it too often and I’m finally waving the white flag on it.

Those are the girls you only call for a good time, not a long time.

[noster-tempus]

The excellent boost in executive functioning I experienced earlier this week is starting to wear off. Not terribly surprising. I still feel a lot better than last week.

Here's an approximate timeline of events:

3/10: my psychiatrist prescribes me sertraline. I go home for spring break.

3/11-3/17: I do not get my sertraline because my local CVS is a mess. Nevertheless, I remember how much energy I have when I get enough to eat, and hope that I will be able to maintain this when I am back at school.

3/18: My prescription comes through.

3/19: I take my first dose of sertraline, a miniscule 12.5 mg, in the morning. (50mg is generally considered the lowest therapeutic dose.) I return to school.

3/20-3/23: I have one of the worst weeks I've had in a long time, productivity-wise. I can't focus on anything because my brain is constantly screaming at me that I need food, but I can't convince myself to actually eat any of the available options. I spend a lot of time playing Minesweeper and Mahjong solitaire because it's the only thing that distracts me from the constantly-on-edge feeling. My teeth are also oddly sore, and I conclude that the sertraline must be making me clench my teeth more than usual. This is the only adverse effect I notice.

3/24-3/26: After buying a bunch of snacks, my concentration improves a bit but not much.

3/27, 9am: I take my first 25mg dose of sertraline.

3pm: I meet with someone from disability services at my college. Earlier in the semester I met with a more general academic coach, and he advised me to meet with someone from disability services, so I was hoping I would get more specialized advice. Instead, she basically gives me the same advice I've heard a million times, with an extra dose of sounding judgy ("You don't have class until 1:40 on Mondays and you're still late for it?") I leave the meeting in tears and generally feeling bad about myself.

4:30pm: I meet with a classmate in my Network Security class to work on a presentation. After the meeting, I am momentarily tempted to play a mindless computer game, but the leftover guilt from the earlier meeting means I can't bring myself to do so. Since I don't have anything else to do, I order a pizza and keep working on the presentation.

7pm: I go to a rehearsal for the play I'm assistant stage managing. It's tablework, so I only need to be half paying attention. The director and an actor are discussing a monologue about death, and one of them brings up panpsychism, the idea that everything has a consciousness. This causes me to have an experience I can only describe as "like death of the ego, but less so." Working on my network security presentation might not be the most exciting activity, but so what? Whether I'm having the most interesting possible moment this exact moment is so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So I spend the rehearsal listening to two people talking about religion and philosophy and physics and feeling a deep sense of wholeness and connection to the universe, while working on a PowerPoint about internet security.

3/28-3/30: Although the quasi-spiritual feeling wears off pretty quickly, I make the best of my newfound ability to decide what to focus on. I eat three meals per day and arrive on time for all my classes. My presentation goes very well. My social anxiety is significantly reduced, and I feel like I could strike up a conversation with anyone. I do a lot of homework, and mostly catch up. I spend my spare time reading about the pharmacology of SSRIs in an effort to figure out why this is happening. I continue to experience a bit of bruxism.

3/31: I'm a little bit tired, and starting to slip back into old habits, but I'm not too discouraged.

I'll go into the specifics of exactly what the sertraline and/or placebo effect seems to be doing in another post. It raises a lot of interesting questions about the boundaries between diagnoses.

[vampyrial]

A World For Her Alone | The First Lives

Part 1 Part 2

cw (chapter specific): infidelity, emotional hurt, yearning, arranged marriage, general angst

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: The turbulent first life.

You love him, you love him. Since the first time. It’s something that never changed, no matter how many lives you lived. No, perhaps it isn’t in spite of the lives you’ve lived, but because of them.

You were living the same life over and over again. Upon your death, you would return to the same point of your life. You didn’t know what brought it on, all you knew is that it was an endless loop that continued to the point of madness. And you had lived inside of it for more lives than you could recall.

In your first life, you failed to hold on to the rule you had been raised by.

You lost your cool. The past you was overcome with jealousy, you ranted and raved when you saw the two of them staring at each other at their first meeting. You were right in front of them with no choice but to take it in. Your beautiful little sister’s clandestine gaze at Claude and the genuine smile that graced Claude’s lips. You ranted and raved, venting your jealousy onto Diana.

“I’m…I’m sorry, big sister” She looked surprised at the outburst at first but then she became aware of herself and lowered her head.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for” Claude said quickly, reverting his gaze to you which had frozen over and taken on a look of utter disgust.

You were engaged to Claude from the age of five. Your childhood ended in that moment that you were suddenly saddled with the enormous pressure of being a marchioness. But you worked hard, with a sort of desperation, without complaint or reprieve. You loved him and whatever needed to be done for you to become a worthy wife, you would do. You had already made up your mind.

You had always utilized your position as his fiancé to strictly put off any woman who approached your fiancé. From the beginning there were houses of higher ranking that had more beautiful, more suitable daughters of Claude’s age. People were always looking for a way to disintegrate your engagement and place their daughter in your spot. No…perhaps it would be better to say, rather than disintegrating your engagement, they were looking to pull you down off your position.

Besides that, Claude was gorgeous, women would approach him even if he wasn’t of high rank. You took every opportunity to approach any woman even rumored to be trying to catch his eye and bluntly told them to give it up.

Claude was far from approving of such behavior. “Who do you think acting like that will benefit?” He said, with poorly concealed disgust. His eyes in that moment were colder than ever, rather than boredom, filled with irritation.

You were dedicated to maintaining your position beside Claude. But your defensiveness only led them closer together, giving Claude an opportunity to comfort Diana. He had the opportunity to save Diana and Diana had the opportunity to be saved. Of course, in retrospect, that would have hastened and strengthened that initial attraction. The first foolish effort you made to keep them apart had a reverse effect.

Of course.

Although the scene you made hadn’t threatened your engagement, parents were livid. In your father’s study, tucked away from the sight of Diana, your parents reprimanded you. They…didn’t seem like parents at that moment. They seemed more like they were venting their anger more than they were lecturing their child.

“I’m ashamed to have you for a daughter” Your father’s voice was utterly sincere. He didn’t waver for a moment in regret or consideration that he had been too harsh. Though she stood silently, dutifully well-postured and unmoving as a statue, your mother’s gaze from beside him was biting.

Claude’s eyes in the moment you broke the noble façade of composure expressed a terrible disgust. And that had been since. Even before your parents, who were apologizing profusely on your behalf, those eyes held that expression. Though he was self aware enough not to let the rest of his countenance show what he was feeling.

He didn’t break the engagement despite this. You understood that you were the easiest choice to be marchioness. Nothing more needed to be taught or expended to ready you. It was no exaggeration to say that you had been raised to be his wife. You had learned the languages, history, management, laws and social circumstances of the territory. These were not simple subjects but you, for Claude’s sake, desperately pored over and memorized them. You made yourself an expert on par with even young noblemen who were heirs to their own territory. There was no one more suitable than you.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew that. So he settled on marrying you, to carry out that inherent responsibility he was to shoulder as the heir.

Despite the natural discontent that came with knowing you had no place in his heart, you were still pleased by the image of your future with him. You had hope that persisted through this. You genuinely believed that though what you had was a political marriage, it would grow into something warmer. With time, as you lived in the same home, ruled the territory together and had children, he would come to share some amount of affection for you. Because you loved him so much he was ingrained in your body, your mind, your sense of self, even; you were pleased to be his wife. And you had to believe that things would turn out well because how could they not, when you got to spend your life with the man you loved?

Claude scarcely visited you after receiving your parent’s apologies. You rationalized this by reminding yourself that he was a knight and that came with it’s own responsibilities that made it difficult to see you frequently. But underneath that soothing excuse, you knew it was because of the scene you made. Because you had become unsightly in his eyes for berating your helpless little sister who had done nothing.

Every time you did meet, you felt you had to make up for the mistakes you made. It was borderline enforced by the expectations of your parents that you compensate for it. There was no choice other than participating and playing along, even if it wasn’t flat out stated. Several tea parties and meetings were arranged for this reason.

At the tea party, Diana attended, naturally. She and Claude sat next to each other once again while you clasped your hands together under the table so tightly your knuckles went pale. You resolved to do what was expected and make up for that first failure. You wanted to show Claude, who was ever capable in presenting himself as the proper husband, the image of a proper wife. You believed that if you did, his gaze toward you would soften and linger.

Of course, such a thing was a fantasy.

Claude’s long fingers brushed a cherry blossom petal from Diana’s hair. His fingers almost seemed to linger on the strands that could have been passed as the skillfully spun gold from the fairy tale, Rumpelstiltskin. Your hands trembled. Diana laughed lightly, her lips which were as pink as the petals falling from the tree, formed a gentle smile as she gazed at him with an ardent longing. You took it in as if a scene from someone else’s memory, dissociating momentarily as opposed to closing your eyes and blocking out the scene. You couldn’t close your eyes to it, because you were to be his wife. An image of nobility and composure was what would be expected.

You pulled your lips into some perversion of a gracious smile and thanked him. “Thank you…” You began, willing your voice not to waver or crack to reveal your insincerity “For taking such good care of my sister.” As always, Claude’s eyes reverted to their usual expression when they shifted to you: frigid. He smiled perfunctorily.

“Of course, we’re going to be family after all, It’s only natural,” He said. If you didn’t know better, you’d interpret those words to be meant mockingly.

Watching this, Diana’s carefree expression shifted incrementally. “You’re truly blessed, sister. You have such a wonderful fiancé.”

In her eyes, it must have been true. You could feel the slight envy in her tone as she said so. You were healthy, and were to marry a prestigious and dutiful man of status. Because Diana’s body was frail, she was near disqualified completely from being the wife of a nobleman. When you married Claude, you would acquire honor and wealth, standing beside a great man who was the head of knights. From her view, there was no reason to believe you were not blessed.

“You’re truly blessed, sister.” Her lovely voice echoed in your head.

You ignored that sense of anxiety those words brought.

Next

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

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“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

[queenshelby]

MY BROTHERS FRIEND (PART THREE)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut, Angst, Mention of Attempted Rape, Blood, Violence

Words: 5230

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Pantry Time

It has been two weeks since you agreed to marry Joseph Kruger, just as Tommy had requested, and today was the day of your engagement party.

You had only met Joseph once and you were fairly certain that he was not interested in marrying you just as you weren’t interested in marrying him. In fact, you didn’t believe that he was interested in women at all. He was attractive and had good manners. There was no reason for him not to be married already at his age.

His four brothers on the other hand were savages. You had encounters with them before and you could understand why Tommy wouldn’t trust them.

You still were unsure what Tommy’s plan was but, for some reason, you trusted him and played a long.

As such, you attended the engagement party willingly and with a smile across your face. The smile wasn’t because of the marriage proposal, but because you knew that you would see Tommy again. It has been a week since you last seen him and had a chance to be intimate with him.

There was no denying it, you were falling for him and it was painfully sweet. There was no future for you and him, but yet you tried to deny this fact and dreamed about being with him, one day.

Your father didn’t know about your involvement with Tommy. He certainly wouldn’t approve.

Arthur walked in on you once, but kept the secret. Lizzie and Polly had their suspicions, but no more than that.

‘You look beautiful Y/N’ Tommy said quietly as he approached you from behind with a smile across his face.

‘Good Evening Tommy’ you said, equally happy to see him.

Tommy was joined by his sister Ada and took the time to engage into some conversation with you as you were getting to know Joseph Kruger.

You played the game well, getting to know all of Joseph’s family and pretending to show a genuine interest in him.

Even Tommy was impressed by your skills of deception.

After your initial encounter with Tommy that evening, you didn’t see much of him and were rather disappointed until, finally, he asked you to dance after the jazz band began to play.

‘I missed you’ he whispered as he was leading you to the dancefloor.

‘I missed you too Tommy’ you whispered in return, following his lead.

You were terrible at dancing and Tommy was well aware of that. You tried hard to maintain a conversation with Tommy without falling over your own two feet.

‘Come with me’ Tommy said with a chuckle about your efforts to not injure yourself.

‘Tommy, we cannot be seen together. You know that’ you said with a slight worry.

‘They are all drunk and dancing, no one will notice us gone’ Tommy smirked as he took your hand and you followed him through the crowd.

He walked with you up the corridor towards a room at the end of the hallway.

Tommy opened the door of the mysterious room and swiftly pushed you inside before closing the door behind him.

Within seconds, Tommy’s hand reaches behind your head and he pulled you to him for a passionate kiss.

‘Tommy, this is the pantry’ you said as you took a quick breath.

‘And? Food has been served. No one will come looking in here’ Tommy smirked before leaning in for another desperate kiss.

‘Did I already tell you that I missed you’ he whispered as his hands made their way over your breasts.

‘You did’ you said, biting your lip and running your hand in between his leg over his already hard cock, poking beneath his pants.

‘Good’ he said just before you exchanged one more passionate and urgent kiss before you turned around and Tommy bent you over the small table inside the pantry.

You both wished that you had more time but you were certain that people would be looking for the bride to be any time soon.

Tommy stood behind you, lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. He undid his belt, button and fly and pushed his pants and underwear down halfway to his knees, freeing his engorged arousal.

Crouching a little, he placed the head of his cock against the hottest spot underneath your naked bum. He lifted upwards and he could feel your treasure open up and slowly absorb the top two inches of his hard cock.

‘Hmm Tommy’ you moaned quietly as he grabbed your soft hips.

Tommy pushed himself up inside you. Inch after inch invaded your intense heat and with one final and hard push he was inside of you all the way. An inferno engulfed him, squeezing around his entire length.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you moaned, closing your eyes and arching your head back.

‘You feel so fucking good’ Tommy groaned as he kissed the back of your neck.

Holding your hips, he began sliding in and out of you from behind, his groin gently slapping against your ass.

His thrusts soon became harder and faster and you loved the feeling of his hard member poking against the depths of your core again and again.

As he was increasing his speed, Tommy ran his hands over your soft belly, holding the flesh for a moment as he slid into her heat over and over.

He then slid his hands further up your body and cupped your breasts over your dress while kissing the skin on the back of your neck. He wanted to kiss your mouth -- badly.

He pulled his cock out of you and you quickly spun around before stepping out of your panties.

Tommy lifted up your dress before lifting up one of your legs and leaning your back against the table.

Tommy kissed you passionately as you ran your hand over his cheek. Then he entered you again and you both watched intently as he placed the head of his cock against your entrance.

‘Fuck’ Tommy moaned as he watched you open up for him and allow his hard cock to squeeze inside of you, inch by inch.

Your heat slowly embraced him, welcoming him. He thrust forward, jamming his entire manhood inside of you.

Holding himself against you, Tommy looked down at your beautiful face as he began thrusting in and out of you.

Tommy slipped his arms around your back and you stopped leaning back on your elbows and put your arms around his neck. Breathing heavily, your eyes mere slits as you were in ecstasy, your lips found his and you kissed him deeply.

Your tongue shot into his mouth hungrily as he continued to thrust into you deeply.

Tommy then sent his own tongue deep into your mouth, thrusting in and out of you even faster. Your tightness pulled at him, coaxing him.

Tommy continued to thrust up into you as hard as he could a few more times, kissing you equally as hard.

‘Tommy, don’t stop’ you moaned loudly, feeling your orgasm approaching.

Your walls clenched around him and Tommy could feel his engorged shaft pulsing.

Just as you let out another loud moan as your orgasm washed over you and your body began to shake, Tommy released. His sticky rope of hot cum shot out the end of his manhood and into your hungry treasure.

You could feel the warmth inside of you as you exchanged a passionate kiss while you both were coming down from your high.

‘I fucking missed this’ Tommy said as he pulled out of you carefully.

‘As did I’ you smiled as you pulled your panties up beneath your dress.

‘But we better get back to the party’ you said as you fixed up your hair.

‘I am sure your father is ready and waiting to make a speech’ Tommy said before giving you another kiss, causing you to smile. There was some sudden awkwardness between you.

You both straightened yourself up and you opened the pantry door carefully.

Just as Tommy opened the door, Finn approached.

‘Finn’ Tommy said surprised just as Finn barged inside. He must have stood there for a while and listened to your sweet moans.

‘It’s not what it looks like Finn’ Tommy said just as you were speechless, starring at them both.

‘Oh yeah? Isn’t it?’ Finn said angrily. ‘Out of all women in this town Tommy… you are my fucking brother’ Finn added.

‘Finn, listen to me…’ Tommy said as Finn walked off.

Tommy followed Finn while you had to return to the party so that you wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

After you joined your father and Joseph for a thank you speech, you hadn’t had another chance to speak to Tommy or Finn and were worried about if and how Tommy managed to resolve the issue.

Trouble Ahead

Without the air having been cleared between Tommy and Finn and Tommy largely ignoring Finn’s feelings, Tommy called a meeting between the brothers and Uncle Charlie, without the presence of Polly.

With his plan, he went behind Polly’s back and he needed man power to take over the Kruger’s family business. As one would expect, he trusted his brothers to keep his plan a secret from others.

The meeting took place at Uncle Charlie’s junk yard and went on for about an hour. Arthur was in favour of Tommy’s plan while Finn and Uncle Charlie considered the plan to be too dangerous. Nonetheless, they agreed to follow Tommy’s orders.

After his meeting with Tommy, Arthur and Uncle Charlie, Finn downed his anger with Whiskey and cocaine at the Garrison where, later that evening, he met a young woman named Esmeralda.

With ignorance and naiveness, he confided in Esmeralda. He told her what happened between you and his brother Thomas and how upset he was about it. He considered you to be the love of his life which Tommy has now taken away from him.

Finn also told Esmeralda about Tommy’s plan. Finn was of the view that Tommy was using you for his own advantage, ignoring the fact that Finn had strong feelings for you.

Little did Finn know that Esmeralda knew the Kruger Family and that, soon, word would come to Manual Kruger, Joseph’s father.

And, as it happened, after Esmeralda comforted Finn for the night, she arranged a meeting with Manuel Kruger and his brother.

During this meeting, Esmeralda explained that Tommy was liaising with Joseph in order to take over the Kruger’s Family Business, making Joseph an acquaintance of the Peaky Blinders.

What you and Finn didn’t know was that Joseph Kruger despised his father and uncle and had been gathering men for two years now to work against them. But Esmeralda was very well aware of the situation and so was Tommy.

For many years, Joseph had been discriminated against by his own father and uncle because of his sexual orientation. He was excluded from family dealings and his brothers worked against him. However, neither of them realised that Joseph did, in fact, have strong ties to certain night club owners in London which was perfect for the distribution of narcotics.

Of course, Tommy saw the potential in this. It was a win win situation for him to help Joseph to take out his father, uncle and brothers and work with him to distribute cocaine throughout London’s nightclubs. In addition, the need for marriage between your family and the Kruger family would be diminished.

It was clear to Esmeralda that this information would create a war between the Shelby family and the Kruger family and this was exactly what she wanted to achieve.

She had a vested interest in seeing the Shelbys lose their fortune. After all, it was Arthur Shelby who killed her brother in a boxing match several years ago. What she wanted was revenge. But of course, Finn didn’t know that, nor did he know that he had put your life in danger when he told Esmeralda about your romantic involvement with his brother and his brother’s plan.

Later that evening, unbeknownst to you, you were to realise how dire this situation had become. The Kruger family was determined to send a message to both, your father and Tommy.

That evening, just as you said goodbye to Tommy and walked out of the office building, you noticed both lights on the street were broken.

This was unusual but you didn’t think anything about it until you also noticed a blood-stained hat on the pavement outside.

‘Karl?’ you spoke loudly. Karl was the man who normally drove you home and, usually, he would already been waiting for you at the front door.

You walked around the corner, following the stains on the pavement.

‘Karl?’ you asked again until, all of a sudden, you stumbled over something. As you looked down, you noticed Karl’s dead body, blood running from his head and chest.

‘Oh my god’ you said, shivers running over your back as you stepped backwards until, all of a sudden, you were grabbed by a man from behind.

‘Shh Love’ the man laughed as he covered your mouth while you tried to escape his strong hold on you.

‘Miss Gold, what a lovely surprise’ another man said as, all of a sudden, a total of three more men approached you from each corner of the street.

‘We know about your man’s plan Love’ the attacker then went onto say as he stood right in front of you, running his dirty hands over your blouse.

You tried hard to escape and reach for your gun in your bag, but the men held onto you tightly.

‘I think it’s time for us to send him and your father a little message’ one of the men said just as he ripped open your blouse.

By that time tears were running down your face and you tried to kick your legs up in protest.

‘You know Love, we will all take our turn and it will be over quick if you hold still, yeah?’ he went on to say just as you leaped out and kicked him into his crotch with your heels.

‘You fucking bitch’ he yelled as he reached for your skirt. In this moment you took your chance and bit harshly into the hand of the man who was restraining you while continuing to kick your legs forward.

‘Tommy’ you yelled loudly as your mouth was freed for a brief second, knowing that he was still in the office.

But, the men wouldn’t back off and began to further tare on your clothes while holding you back down, letting you scream for help.

‘No one is coming Love’ one of the men said as he began kissing your neck.

Just as you felt the man’s tongue run over your ear and heard him unbuckling his belt, you heard a shot.

‘Get the fuck off her’ Tommy yelled harshly, firing again.

The next thing you saw was blood streaming down the pavement. One of the men had been shot into his knee. It was dark and difficult for Tommy to aim.

With a limited view, Tommy approached the attackers while they briefly halted their assault on you.

‘Mr Shelby, nice of you to join us. You can watch while we fuck your little girlfriend’ one of the men said as, suddenly, Tommy could feel a knife against his neck from one of the other men.

With one of the men on the ground and the other keeping Tommy at bay, the other two proceeded with their plan as they tore apart your skirt, leaving your underwear exposed to them.

‘Now Love, we will continue where we left of and your boyfriend gets to watch us’ the man said as he pulled down his pants.

You continued to scream in protest as the man was trying to push down your panties.

Just as he grabbed hold of the hem, you heard a loud scream coming from the man standing behind Tommy.

As you looked over, you observed Tommy slamming a large and sharp piece of metal from the floor besides him into the man’s throat.

You took this opportunity to reach for your gun in your purse and, within a split second, you shot the man who, at this point, still had hold of your panties.  

This allowed you to free yourself but, as you stepped backwards, you fell down to the floor. You had never shot someone before and were in shock, trembling at the sight of the dead man in front of you.

By the time you collected your thoughts, Tommy had already shot the other man who attacked you. It was almost like an execution, without mercy. Tommy’s face expressionless.

Tommy decided not to kill the fourth man but, instead, shot him into his other knee so that he couldn’t run away. He was to be questioned and then used to send a message to the Kruger Family.

‘Are you alright?’ Tommy asked as he raced over to you and placed his jacket around your half naked body.

You nodded while you were shivering and crying and your heart was pounding.

‘You are safe now’ Tommy said as he took you into his arms.

His white shirt was stained with blood and he had a large cut on his neck that would soon need some attention. But for now, he just wanted to comfort you.

With the man screaming in pain across the pavement, it wasn’t long for police to arrive.

Tommy didn’t leave your side as police assessed the scene.

‘What would you like us to do with this one Mr Shelby?’ the policeman asked after he instructed his other men to clean up the scene.

‘Take him to 5 Birmingham Avenue and chain him up. I will deal with him later’ Tommy said, causing the policeman to nod while Tommy helped you up from the pavement.

‘Common, let’s get you cleaned up ey?’ Tommy said as he walked you to his car, covering as much of your naked flesh as he could with his jacket.

Tommy helped you inside of his Bentley, which is when you noticed his wound. It was draining a lot of blood down his neck.

‘Tommy, you are hurt’ you said, looking at him concerned.

‘It’s just a scratch Y/N’ Tommy smirked as placed some pressure onto his open wound before driving off.

You didn’t know where he was taking you until he pulled up in front of a large house.

Love and Desire

‘Where are we?’ you asked.

‘My house. You will be safe here’ Tommy said as he parked the car.

Two maids were waiting for you as you walked inside the house. They must have seen the car pull up.

‘Mr Shelby, are you alright?’ Francis asked concerned.

‘Yes Francis. Could you please look after Ms Gold for me while I make a phone call?’ Tommy asked while he continued to press onto his wound firmly with his hands.

‘Yes Mr Shelby, of course. Shall I arrange a bath?’ Francis asked as you were clearly covered in mud and dirt.

‘Yes please. And some clean clothes and whatever else she needs’ Tommy said.

‘I do not think that we have clothes other than…’ Francis said and, before she could finish her sentence, Tommy interrupted her.

‘My wife’s clothes should fit her’ Tommy said.

‘Of course, Mr Shelby’ Francis responded before she helped you upstairs.

Francis ran a bath for you before she helped you undress and get rid of your dirty clothes.

She was kind and welcoming, almost like a mother.

As you then finally sank into the bath you could feel your bruised skin burn. Your legs hurt terribly and small cuts were covering your arms and knees.

Francis gave you some privacy at this point. But she had also given you three nightgowns to choose from before she left and prepared the guestroom for you.

You soaked in the bath for at least 20 minutes and scrubbed your skin. You felt disgusted and embarrassed.

When you stepped out of the bath, you dried yourself off with the soft white towel that Francis had given you before putting on one of the nightgowns. It was white, made out of soft and shiny satin. It covered some of your bruises but not all.

As you walked outside the bathroom, you could hear grunts coming from the kitchen.

You followed the noises to see Tommy being held down onto the kitchen table by Arthur and Finn while a nurse was using tweezers to remove fragments of gravel from the wound on his neck.

Tommy glanced over to you briefly before indicating to one of the maids that he wanted you to leave.

‘Can’t it just be stitched up?’ you asked, causing the maid to shake her head before asking you to follow her.

‘The wound has to be cleaned out, its quite deep’ the maid said as she showed you to your room.

You sat down on the bed in your room but couldn’t help it but worry about Tommy. All that you could hear from your otherwise quiet room were the occasional grunts. He was clearly in pain.

Then, after about ten minutes, there was dead silence and you became even more concerned and worried.

Finally, after 20 minutes, you heard a knock on the door.

‘Come in’ you said.

You were relieved to see Tommy when he opened the door.

You were quick to get off the bed and walk over to him, pressing your lips onto his in a haste.

He had been stitched up and his wound was covered by a large gauze.

Tommy didn’t say anything after the kiss but simply looked at you wearing Grace’s nightgown.

It was almost like he was assessing you and all of the small bruises and cuts that covered your body.

His hands then caressed your face before he kissed you again.

Silence. There was nothing but silence and kisses.

After about ten minutes of this, Tommy caressed your face again and looked into your eyes.

‘I am sorry this happened to you’ Tommy said.

‘It’s not your fault Tommy’ you responded.

‘You will stay here for a while until I sort this out, alright? You will be safe here and no one will ever hurt you again like this, I promise.’ Tommy said.

‘Alright Tommy’ you said as your hands ran over his bare chest. You wanted to tell him what you were feeling for him in that moment but couldn’t bring it over your lips.

At this point you pulled him onto the bed with you, kissing him gently, before reaching in between his legs.

‘Not tonight Y/N’ Tommy said as he could feel his hand run over his crotch.

‘Tommy, please, I need you’ you said, knowing how good it always makes you feel.

Tommy chuckled at your comment and nodded before leaning over you another kiss.

‘Alright’ he said, before he slowly removed your nightgown. It wasn’t long before his hands were touching you everywhere, lingering on your breasts, tracing the sharp curves of your hips.

Tommy’s lips followed his hands, planting gentle kisses against every inch of your bruised skin. His head moved back up to your chest and his full lips closed over the tips of first one breast and then the other. He began sucking your nipples gently, causing you to moan loudly.

‘Tell me if I'm hurting you’ he murmured as his hand reached down between your legs where most of your bruises had surfaced.

You nodded, breathless. You reached for his belt but your hands were shaking so much that you couldn't even maneuver the clasp. You were still wound up by what had happened that night.

Tommy eased your hands away and took over. In no more than ten seconds, he was as completely naked as were you.

He embraced you, holding you tightly against his chest. You ran your fingers up and down the length of his back, scraping your short nails against his smooth skin.

Tommy shifted his position and began suckling at your breasts once more. A moan of pleasure escaped your lips. You could feel his hard member pressing against your thigh. And you could feel moisture seeping out from between your legs.

Tommy reached between your thighs, parted them gently, and slowly swirled two fingers around your wet vaginal lips.

Tommy removed his fingers. His body slithered down the length of yours. He took hold of your hips, placed his mouth between your legs and nibbled at your sensitive flesh. Then the tip of his tongue began flicking against your clit, tracing circles around the hardened nub.

‘Oh god, Tommy’ you cried as you grabbed hold of his muscular shoulders as the shivers and shudders of an approaching orgasm wracked at your weak body.

The arching of your back was sending bolts of pain shooting down your spine. But you didn't care. Pain and pleasure were colliding and you chose the pleasure.

‘Don’t stop Tommy’ you urged him, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Tommy pressed his mouth to your wet entrance once again and used his tongue to toy with your clit some more.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as your orgasm was consuming you, fast and hard.

Tommy crawled up the length of your body and held you tightly as you lost all control. You were shaking and moaning. You grabbed onto him for dear life until the final shudder released you from the joint grasp of ecstasy and agony.

He kissed her hungrily, devouring your lips with his own. You could taste your own juices as you returned his kiss with every ounce of passion you possessed.

Though satiated and struggling with the pain, you parted your legs again and reached down to guide Tommy’s hard cock into your soaking wet pussy. Tommy groaned immediately. He propped himself up on his hands and began pushing into you gently.

‘It's okay’ you whispered as Tommy looked at you as if he was seeking approval.

‘Push harder’ you moaned, giving your body to him.

Tommy accepted your invitation and began thrusting into you more forcefully. He lowered his head to kiss you as he was pumping into you with increased speed and force.

The tip of his cock was grazing against your sweet spot as he thrusted into you and you felt another climax approaching.

At the same time, you also felt Tommy’s body begin to tremble with his own approaching release.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you.

At the same time, guttural groans escaped his throat and, with one final convulsive thrust, he erupted inside of you, flooding you with a rush of hot cum.

After you both came down from your high, Tommy rolled away from you and collapsed next to you.

He took you into his arms and held you against his body as, all of a sudden, Arthur barged through the door.

‘Fucking hell Arthur’ Tommy said just as you covered your bare breasts with the sheets.

‘Abraham Gold is here’ Arthur said, trying hard to look away from you.

‘I thought Finn was full of shit when he told me that you two were still fucking’ Arthur said as you quickly reached for your nightgown and Tommy put on his pants.

‘This stays between us’ Tommy instructed as he walked out of your room and downstairs.

‘Mr Gold’ Tommy said, greeting your father.

‘Where is my daughter’ Abrahama asked.

‘Upstairs, having a rest’ Tommy responded, causing Finn to sigh and Arthur to laugh.

You made your way downstairs after five minutes to greet your father before Tommy took him into his office to discuss the matter.

All you could hear from outside Tommy’s offices were arguments and yelling.

Your father didn’t know about your involvement with Tommy but soon learned about his plan. In your father’s opinion, Tommy was going behind his back and put your life at risk for financial gain and had now created a war with the Kruger family, especially after killing three of Manuel Kruger’s five sons.

‘These were men you wanted to be in business with, ey? Men who tried to force themselves on your daughter’ Tommy said angrily as your father stormed out of his office.

‘Carful Mr Shelby’ your father yelled before telling Tommy that it would have never come that far if he wouldn’t had interfered with the arrangement.

Your father took a hold of your hand told you to get into the car as he left Tommy’s office, the yelling continuing.

‘Mr Gold, it’s not safe’ Tommy tried to argue while your father forced you to leave with him.

‘My daughter’s safety is not your concern Mr Shelby’ Abrahama said and you had no choice but to follow him back to the commune.

You spent the next few days there, not being allowed to work or go on with your usual activities. You knew that your father regularly talked to Tommy. He had no choice but to work with him now after all this. But, you had no idea where things were heading from here on and you knew that Tommy’s actions made your father despise him.

Finally, five days later, your father arranged another meeting with Tommy and Arthur at the factory to which you were invited. It was Tommy who insisted that you were part of this meeting and gain an understanding of the plan. Tommy argued that this was for your own safety.

You appreciated Tommy’s efforts to have you included but, that particular morning, you could have very well stayed in bed.

You have been unwell for two days now and didn’t want to see Tommy looking the way you did.

You forced yourself to put on a nice dress and some make up before joining your father and brother in the car.

Just as you arrived at the factory building, you barged out of the car and towards the lavatory.

‘Excuse me’ you said as you stormed into the men’s lavatory on the ground floor. There was no female lavatory in close proximity.

‘You realise that this is the fucking men’s lavatory, right?’ Arthur said while taking a leek as, all of a sudden, he heard a loud choking noise.

‘Are you alright, Love?’ he asked as you were in the cubicle, with the door open, your head hanging over the toilet seat.

‘Yes, I am fine, thank you Arthur’ you said as you straightened yourself up and walked to the basin to wash your hands.

There was an awkward silence between you and Arthur.

‘Ate something bad, ey?’ Arthur said as he handed you his handkerchief.

‘Yes, probably. It’s been like this for two days’ you said. ‘I will return it, washed of course’ you added after you wiped your mouth with the handkerchief.

‘Don’t worry Love. Keep it’ Arthur said as you both left the bathroom and headed to the meeting.

[argumate]

Ukrainian forces have inflicted a major operational defeat on Russia, recapturing almost all Kharkiv Oblast in a rapid counter-offensive. The Ukrainian success resulted from skillful campaign design and execution that included efforts to maximize the impact of Western weapons systems such as HIMARS. Kyiv’s long discussion and then an announcement of a counter-offensive operation aimed at Kherson Oblast drew substantial Russian troops away from the sectors on which Ukrainian forces have conducted decisive attacks in the past several days. Ukraine’s armed forces employed HIMARS and other Western systems to attack Russian ground lines of communication (GLOCs) in Kharkiv and Kherson Oblasts, setting conditions for the success of this operation. Ukrainian leaders discussed the strikes in the south much more ostentatiously, however, successfully confusing the Russians about their intentions in Kharkiv Oblast. Western weapons systems were necessary but not sufficient to secure success for Ukraine. The Ukrainian employment of those systems in a well-designed and well-executed campaign has generated the remarkable success of the counter-offensive operations in Kharkiv Oblast.

The Ukrainian recapture of Izyum ended the prospect that Russia could accomplish its stated objectives in Donetsk Oblast. After retreating from Kyiv in early April, the stated Russian objectives had been to seize the complete territory of Luhansk and Donetsk Oblasts. The Russian campaign to achieve these objectives was an attack along an arc from Izyum through Severodonetsk to the area near Donetsk City. That attack aimed to seize Severodonetsk, Lysychansk, Slovyansk, Bakhmut, and Kramatorsk, and continue to the western boundary of Donetsk Oblast. Russian forces managed to take Severodonetsk on June 24 and Lysychansk on July 3 after a long and extremely costly campaign but then largely culminated, seizing no major settlements and little territory. The Russian position around Izyum still threatened Ukrainian defenders of Slovyansk, however, and retained for the Russians the opportunity to return to the attack on the northern sectors of the arc, which they had largely abandoned by the middle of July in favor of a focus on Siversk (near Lysychansk) and Bakhmut. 

The loss of Izyum dooms the initial Russian campaign plan for this phase of the war and ensures that Russian advances toward Bakhmut or around Donetsk City cannot be decisive (if they occur at all). Even the Russian seizure of Bakhmut, which is unlikely to occur considering Russian forces have impaled themselves on tiny surrounding settlements for weeks, would no longer support any larger effort to accomplish the original objectives of this phase of the campaign since it would not be supported by an advance from Izyum in the north. The continued Russian offensive operations against Bakhmut and around Donetsk City have thus lost any real operational significance for Moscow and merely waste some of the extremely limited effective combat power Russia retains.

There is no basis for assessing that the counter-offensive announced in Kherson Oblast is merely a feint, however. Ukrainian forces have reportedly attacked and made gains at several important locations on the western bank of the Dnipro River. They have cut the two bridges across the river and continue to keep them cut as well as interfere with Russian efforts to maintain supply via barge and pontoon ferry. Ukraine has committed considerable combat power and focused a significant portion of the Western-supplied long-range precision systems it has to this axis, and it is not likely to have done so merely to draw Russian forces to the area.

The Ukrainian pressure in Kherson combined with the rapid counter-offensive in Kharkiv presents the Russians with a terrible dilemma of time and space. Russia likely lacks sufficient reserve forces to complete the formation of a new defensive line along the Oskil River, as it is reportedly trying to do before Ukrainian forces continue their advance through that position if they so choose. Prudence would demand that Russia pull forces from other sectors of the battlespace to establish defensive lines further east than the Oskil River to ensure that it can hold the Luhansk Oblast border or a line as close to that border as possible. But Russian troops around Bakhmut and near Donetsk City continue offensive operations as if unaware of the danger to Luhansk, and Russian forces in Kherson still face attack and the threat of more attacks on that axis. Russian President Vladimir Putin risks making a common but deadly mistake by waiting too long to order reinforcements to the Luhansk line, thereby compromising the defense of Kherson or ending offensive operations around Bakhmut and Donetsk City without getting troops into position to defend against continuing Ukrainian attacks in Luhansk in time. The Ukrainian campaign appears intended to present Putin with precisely such a dilemma and to benefit from almost any decision he makes.

The current counter-offensive will not end the war. The campaign in northeast Ukraine will eventually culminate, allowing the Russians to re-establish a tenable defensive line and possibly even conduct localized counterattacks. Ukraine will have to launch subsequent counter-offensive operations, likely several, to finish the liberation of Russian-occupied territory. The war remains likely to stretch into 2023. 

Ukraine has turned the tide of this war in its favor. Kyiv will likely increasingly dictate the location and nature of the major fighting, and Russia will find itself increasingly responding inadequately to growing Ukrainian physical and psychological pressure in successive military campaigns unless Moscow finds some way to regain the initiative.

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: when you're paired with the most popular girl in your grade for Chemistry class, you definitely don't expect to start liking her like that...

warning/s: none i don't think??

author's note: okay so i have a ton of requests to work through but i got sidetracked and before i knew it, five parts of this imagine were written.

It's based off the song 'Teenage Dirtbag' and idk, i thought it was cute to write! Who doesn't love the popular girl!wanda and loner!reader concept?

Here’s a cover of the song to listen to because i really liked it and a girl sings it so it immediately made the song 10x more gay, just how i like it 🥰

masterlist | wattpad | part two | part three | part four | part five

"Are you all comfortable?"

The class stayed silent, watching our Chemistry teacher, Mr. Hale, as he looked to everyone with a raised brow.

"You all like who you're sat with?" he asked again, as if expecting an actual response from someone.

I exchanged questioning glances with my best friend, Y/BF/N, who was sat beside me. It was the first day back in Chemistry class of our final year of high school and we were just waiting to begin.

"Anyone?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah," a few students mumbled in response so we could move on.

He clapped his hands together. "Great! Well, don't get too comfortable because I made a seating chart."

A chorus of groans erupted from the class, including from me and Y/BF/N. Every other class had successfully managed to not give us a seating chart. I'd heard that Mr. Hale was an awkward teacher who hated students (ironically), but I didn't think he'd stoop so low as to pair us with students who weren't our friends. These new seats were also our partners for the rest of the year and were non-negotiable, so any projects or work we did would have to be with our seat buddy. Fun.

Students began to shuffle to their newly-assigned seats reluctantly as Mr. Hale read out the chart. When Y/BF/N left my side, I frowned dramatically, waving goodbye to him.

"Wanda Maximoff, you're now partners with Y/N Y/L/N," said Mr. Hale, making me look up at the mention of my name.

I didn't get chance to register what he'd said as the aforementioned girl soon approached me, settling her bag on the table beside me. I looked up and saw Wanda Maximoff smiling my way before taking a seat on the stool.

Huh. Wanda Maximoff. She was one of the most popular girls in our grade. Everybody loved her, either wanting to be friends with her, be with her or be her. I'd personally never crossed paths with her apart from the few classes we shared. She seemed nice enough, but I guess I had preconceived notions of what she was like since she'd made the very poor decision to date the most obnoxious guy ever. Anyone making decisions that terrible definitely had a flaw.

She had a twin brother, Pietro, who was also in our grade and played on the football team alongside her boyfriend. Her parents were good friends with mine, through mutual friends, I think, as I recalled my mum mentioning 'Mrs. Maximoff's boy' or 'Mrs. Maximoff's girl'. And I remembered when her family moved into our town back in second grade.

Admittedly, Wanda was the star of the show back then, too. We were only kids, but child Y/N wasn't blind. She was the first girl I'd crushed on, an innocent child crush – the crush that made me realise I liked girls. Apart from that, and the fact that she had a locker behind me in the hallway, I never really thought about her.

I glanced behind me, catching Y/BF/N's gaze across the room as he sat beside some other kid. He frowned, implying he wished we were partners, and I knew just how he felt.

Once Mr. Hale finished assigning seats, he gave us five minutes to get to know our new partners as he struggled to find the powerpoint for today's class. If there was anything worse than getting assigned seats, it was ice breakers.

"Er, well, hi," Wanda greeted, turning to face me. Green eyes sparkled brightly behind a friendly smile. "I'm Wanda. But, I mean, we already know each other."

"That we do," I said with a nod, returning her smile. "How're you doing? Your summer go well?"

She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting herself so she was comfortable on her stool. And as she did, a waft of her perfume washed over me and I blinked, trying to ignore how nice it smelled. Floral. Subtle. It suited her.

"Good, yeah," she answered with a nod. "Could have gone on longer for all I care."

I chuckled. "I feel that. I'm definitely not ready to be back."

"Right?" she said with raised brows. "It's gonna take a while to get back into routine, that's for sure. But I guess I did miss seeing my friends everyday."

I hummed in agreement, eyes flickering to Mr. Hale as he attempted to tackle the oncoming stream of animations on his powerpoint. I tried not to laugh as I looked back to Wanda, who clearly noticed the same thing as me and stifled a smile.

"Have you had Mr. Hale before?" I asked, nodding his way.

She shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"Never."

"Sucks that he makes seating charts," she said with a sigh, before realising what she said and looking to me with panicked eyes. "Not that I don't like you or anything–!"

"It's fine, I get it," I cut her off with an amused smile. "I wanted to sit with my friend, too."

She breathed out quietly, a hint of relief in her eyes, and scrunched her nose with an apologetic smile. Okay, yeah, maybe that was kind of cute. Older Y/N wasn't blind either. Wanda Maximoff was beautiful, with long brunette locks and matching hazel eyes that seemed to change from blue to green to brown in a kaleidoscope of colour. A winning smile and soothing voice was enough for anyone to fall for her unintentional charm, but it was purely admiration. Everyone pretty much had a mild crush on her, you'd be stupid not to.

"If we're gonna be working together, d'you wanna get the whole awkward number exchange out the way now?" she asked, half joking, half not.

"I– er– sure," I stumbled out rather carelessly, before cringing internally. Where did that come from?

Thankfully, she didn't seem to pick up on it (or just saved me the embarrassment of acknowledging it) and was already writing her number on a slip of paper. Sliding it my way, she capped her pen and gave me her signature smile.

"Thanks," I said with a nod, accepting the paper and pocketing it. "Can't wait to start those lovely science projects we've got coming up!"

She let out a quiet laugh at my sarcasm. "It'll be fine. You're not dumb, right? So, we'll be fine."

"Can't promise you that," I joked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

"Maybe if we–"

But she was cut off when Mr. Hale spoke up loudly, interrupting everyone's conversations.

"Five minutes are up, let's begin!"

I wondered if everyone was thinking the same thing as me – that was not five minutes.

"So it begins...," I mumbled to myself, facing forward.

Wanda breathed out, a stifled laugh, probably having heard my comment, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. Maybe I judged her too harshly. She wasn't actually that bad.

—

Since being paired with Wanda, I was surprised by how much she'd made an effort to befriend me outside of class. We'd always been back to back with our lockers though not quite speaking, but since becoming Chemistry partners, she'd wish me a good morning if she caught me, or greet me briefly as we collected our books.

She didn't have to, but I could see why everybody liked her now. She was just genuinely nice. Due to circumstance, we'd become partners, but rather than leaving it at that, she made a genuine effort to befriend me. And not even just me, but also Y/BF/N, who was at the locker next to mine. He was as surprised as I was, expecting Wanda to mind her own business as we weren't exactly in the same social circles.

This was, I guess you could say, the start of our friendship. And it was a good one at that. I grew to learn how funny she was, how much she loved her brother, the passion she had for art and painting... she was a wonderful person. Which is why I didn't understand why she was with her boyfriend, Nate. He was a grade-A dick and everything Wanda wasn't. How were they a thing?

It sounds like I'm being a bitch and judgemental, but he really is the worst. The few unfortunate times I shared a class with him or caught sight of him around school, he was causing some sort of trouble with the teachers or picking on students in a way that made it seem like a joke but everybody knew it wasn't.

For example, there was a time when Wanda and I were studying for an upcoming Chemistry test we had. We decided to just help each other study since we already worked together in class, so knew we could motivate each other to actually put in the work. It was, maybe, the fourth studying session we had, and I was going over some notes when I felt her eyes watching me.

"You need a hand?" I asked, unable to take the staring any longer. I looked up at her, quirking a brow.

She seemed to fall out of her daydream and straightened up, eyes flickering to mine. "Huh?"

I gave her an awkward smile, unable to maintain her gaze. "You're staring."

She didn't seem fazed as I called her out, instead leaning back in her seat and continuing to study me curiously.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

Subconsciously reaching for my hair, I straightened up my ponytail and shook my head. "No...?"

She chewed on her lip, saying after a pause, "You tied it up. You usually leave it out."

Did I? I wasn't sure. I just knew that her noticing something like that made me feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"It looks good," she decided, before offering up a small smile. "You should do it like that more often."

Quickly, I felt warm. Was it stuffy in here or was it just me? God, compliments already made me feel stupid. And compliments from pretty girls made me feel ten times that. It didn't help that she was watching me with an endearing expression, making me focus on my book before me.

"Thanks," I got out quickly. "I– yeah."

Her smile widened before she looked back down to her own book. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the way her leg brushed up against mine under the table.

Thankfully, the strange fuzzy feeling following her compliment faded and we were able to get back to work without her tuning out again. As we were going over each other's practice questions, an annoying voice shouted from across the library.

"Wanda, head's up!"

"Hey, no talking in the library!" a librarian hissed at the voice.

Wanda and I looked up just in time for a football to smack me in the side of the head. I didn't even see it coming until I felt the thing slap my head, giving me an instant urge to strangle whoever threw it.

"Fuck," I cursed, holding my head and closing my eyes to breathe through the pain.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Wanda's voice made me open my eyes and I saw her leaning forward, hand resting on my shoulder and the other on top of mine that was clutching my head.

"Been better," I admitted, trying to make light of the situation because as angry as I was at the idiot who threw it, I was also embarrassed because it hit me.

Wanda seemed concerned as she gently pulled me hand away, not letting go as she got a better look at the side of my face which I was sure was burning red. At least that's what it felt like.

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up and saw none other than Nate Green, Wanda's boyfriend, hovering and stifling a laugh as he looked at me. He had his stupid varsity jacket on and I was tempted to strangle him with it.

"I thought Wanda would catch it," he explained stupidly, before moving around the desk to collect his football.

Breathing out through gritted teeth, I pulled away from Wanda and nodded reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Just need an ice pack."

"You're such an idiot, Nate!" Wanda snapped, looking to him with a glare. "You need to watch what you're doing!"

He smiled sheepishly, making me roll my eyes and clench my jaw at the heat on the right side of my face. Fuck, that really hurt.

"What did you want?" Wanda asked him with a quirked brow. She definitely wasn't impressed. I'd hate to ever be on the wrong side of that condescending glare.

"I thought we could go out," he said like it was that simple.

"I'm studying," she quipped with crossed arms.

"I'm happy to wait," he said, toying with the ball in his hands.

Knowing I definitely didn't want that, I closed my books and said, "It's cool. You guys go. I think we're done here anyway."

Nate grinned. "See? S'all good."

Wanda ignored him and looked to me with worried eyes. "Y/N, are you sure?"

"You know your stuff," I said, referring to the work. "You'll be fine in the test. I'm sure."

I offered her a small, forced smile, before standing up to pack my bag. She did the same, beginning to pack her own things, but her eyes kept flittering towards me.

"D'you want me to go to the nurse's office with you?" she asked, shame laced in her voice.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," I said, hurrying up with my actions so I could just get out of here whilst I still had (some of) my dignity left. "See you in class tomorrow."

She nodded, sending a guilty smile my way. "See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Without giving either of them a look, I shouldered my backpack and left the library. Just another reminder of why Nate Green was literally the worst person ever.

—

Liking Wanda as more than a friend wasn't something that happened for a while if I'm being honest. I guess I started to enjoy her presence more and more the longer we spent time together.

I'd come to appreciate it whenever she'd say something completely out of the blue that made no sense whatsoever, or whenever she'd laugh at something I'd said that was arguably not funny but she didn't want to make me feel bad, or even whenever I teased her about something stupid she did, resulting in her doing that cute little nose scrunch she did. But I didn't think of it as liking her, more just a randomly-formed friendship that I was glad to have.

Maybe it was this misinterpretation that didn't make me see how I was acting around her, such as the time I was in the dinner queue at lunch when I realised she was stood behind me.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," she said when she noticed it was me in front of her. Her usual bright, friendly smile was on her lips as she looked to me. "You good?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yeah. Just getting some doughnuts for Y/BF/N and I. You?"

"Same," she said, before nudging the guy next to her, who I recognised as her brother. "Pietro and I thought we'd treat ourselves."

At the mention of his name, Pietro looked down to his sister before his gaze fell on me. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he put out his hand.

"Pietro Maximoff," he introduced. "You must be the Chemistry partner, Y/N, right?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as I shook his hand. "You, er, know who I am?"

He glanced at his sister with a cheeky smile. Wanda was avoiding both of our gazes, her cheeks dusting pink.

Clearly saving face for Wanda, he said, "We've been in the same grade since kids, right? 'Course I do."

Despite the truth to his words, something told me that wasn't how he knew who I was. Especially since I was sure I'd never spoken to him in my life. But, to save Wanda the embarrassment of clearly having spoken of me at home, I nodded to Pietro.

"Right," I agreed with an amused smile. "Duh."

I moved down the queue and grabbed two doughnuts from the display, putting them in two separate paper bags.

"Dibs the last one!" Pietro exclaimed as soon as I returned the clippers to the display. He reached around his sister immaturely and bagged the last doughnut.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You know I can ask for more, right?"

Pietro grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Go on then."

The two were twins, but they couldn't have been more different. I simply revelled in their interaction, finding it adorable.

Wanda did as she said, asking the dinner lady if there were any more doughnuts in the back. Unfortunately for her, those were the last for the day, making Pietro laugh as Wanda pouted.

"Sucks to be you," he teased her, as I paid for mine and Y/BF/N's doughnuts.

"I hate you," she mumbled playfully, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes as he lovingly but annoyingly waved his bag before her eyes.

Without even thinking much of it, I held out one of the bags in my hand. "Here. You can have mine."

Wanda looked to me with surprise. "Are you sure? I can live without a doughnut, if that's what you're thinking."

I chuckled, grabbing her hand and making her take it. "It's okay. I wasn't in the mood anyway."

Plus, you look better when you're smiling and not pouting, I added in my head.

She accepted the bag reluctantly. "I– thanks. At least let me pay for it–"

"It's just a doughnut, Wanda," I teased, before nodding her way. "See you later."

Leaving her and Pietro to it, I headed back to the table Y/BF/N was sat at and took a seat opposite him before giving him his doughnut.

"Sweet," he said, quickly opening the bag before realising I didn't have one. "Where's yours?"

Over his shoulder, I saw Wanda and Pietro taking a seat at their lunch table, doughnuts in hand and a heartwarming smile on Wanda's lips.

"They ran out," I answered Y/BF/N. "Wasn't in the mood anyway. Enjoy."

He shrugged before digging in. I'd like to say I didn't spare glances in Wanda's direction every now and then for the rest of the lunch hour, but I'd be lying if I did.

—

I'm in the art department. You okay to bring it here?

I read over the text Wanda sent me before shooting her an 'okay' and heading to the Art department. I'd grabbed her notebook in class earlier on, only realising as I was studying with Y/BF/N in the library and pulled out an extra one, so I was going to give it her back.

I guess, when you realise you like someone, it comes randomly, suddenly, without warning. Liking someone isn't instant, it's constant and gradual and subconscious. I guess I'd been falling for Wanda for a while, without even realising, but today was the day I acknowledged that fact.

The Art department wasn't somewhere I frequented regularly – give me a paint and brushes and I'd probably present you with a finger painting – but it was definitely worth the visit. Art pieces from current and past students were hung on the walls, a mural of the school was spray painted on another, and sculptures stood around. The whole department brought a smile to anyone's face with its bright colours and open space – I could see why Art students always hung out here, Wanda included.

Speaking of Wanda, I found her in one of the classrooms sat at a stool in front of a series of canvasses. The room had a few other Art students littered around, working on their own pieces during their lunch period, otherwise it was empty.

"Hey," I called, getting her attention as I approached her.

She followed my voice and straightened up with a cheery smile. "Y/N, hey. Thanks for coming. I'm working on my Art project, so I couldn't pull myself away."

I waved my hand dismissively, joining her side. "It's all good, don't worry." My eyes wandered to the series of canvases on easels she was working on and widened. "Holy shit, these are so good."

Three unfinished hyperrealistic portraits of people were before us, one whom I recognised as Pietro. The paintings were so detailed, despite their medium-size, and I couldn't imagine how long they must have taken.

"You think?" she asked, glancing between them. "I think I messed up the nose here." She pointed with the back end of her paintbrush to the nose of Pietro. "It's a bit bent."

I almost laughed as I looked to her with disbelief. "Are you kidding? Wanda, these are amazing. How did you even do this?"

She looked down bashfully, a nervous smile on her lips. "I don't know. It's for a project. I chose to do family portraits." She pointed to each one as she said, "My mum, my dad and my brother."

I was in awe of her talent, jaw dropped with amazement still. I always knew she was an artist, but I'd never actually seen her work. I was starting to wish I'd come here a lot sooner.

"So, you got my notebook?" she asked, pulling me back into reality.

I looked away from the paintings reluctantly before getting her notebook from my bag and holding it out for her. As she accepted it, she must have forgotten she was holding her paintbrush as the tip brushed my wrist, leaving a swipe of red there.

"Oh, my bad," she said with a laugh, before setting her notebook and brush down and grabbing a paper towel from beside her.

Wetting it with water from her bottle, she pressed it to my wrist and swiped the paint away. It was such a mundane action, but the way her fingers gently held my wrist and emanated a warmth only she seemed to carry sent shivers down my spine.

I glanced up at her, letting her do it, and noticed the swipe of paint she had across her cheek, as if she'd touched her face without realising.

Now that I paid attention, I noticed how cute she looked in her Art getup. An old, oversized shirt covered in paint was being worn to cover her clothes, sleeves loosely rolled up to her elbows. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail, but her baby hairs framed her forehead adorably.

When her hair wasn't in her face, her eyes only seemed more intense, glistening with excitement and happiness. I almost forgot to breathe when they met mine briefly, a hint of embarrassment there from when cleaning me up. She was in her element here and it made sense to me now.

I knew I'd fallen for her.

—

"You don't get it," I was saying to Y/BF/N as we hung about the school gym, waiting for the teacher to start the lesson. "It's bad. I like her. Like, like like her."

Y/BF/N laughed, clapping me on the back with pity. "You're screwed."

I frowned. "I know."

As he stretched for class, he continued, "I mean, I get it, I do. She's super nice. Pretty. And you guys seem to get on."

I chewed on my lower lip worriedly.

He gave me a knowing look. "There's one problem though."

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "I know, I know. She's got that dick of a boyfriend."

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

I sighed, crossing my arms with annoyance. Since realising I liked Wanda as a little more than a friend, things weren't going well for me. Whenever we worked together, I'd forget what I was thinking because I was too busy admiring her side profile or getting lost in her eyes. If she spoke about the work, told a joke or was simply speaking her thoughts aloud, I'd focus on every little thing she was saying, knowing I could listen to her speak all day. It was bad, but thankfully I hadn't stumbled over my words or made a total fool of myself in front of her. I was determined to not let it get that far.

My eyes wandered around the gym as Y/BF/N tried to give me advice, but admittedly, his words flew in one ear and out the other when I caught sight of Wanda.

She was standing with her friends, smiling and laughing to whatever they were saying. Like everyone else in here, she was wearing her gym kit – black athletic shorts and a blue and white tee shirt, the colour of our school. It wasn't anything special, yet she made it seem that way, outdoing anyone in here. Her brown hair was tied back, the ponytail falling down her back, showing her stunning profile and making my mouth go dry.

Another clap on the back from Y/BF/N pulled me from my reverie and I looked to see he was laughing at me.

"Majorly screwed," he corrected his previous comment.

He was definitely right.

[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

[witch-hazels-musings]

i dunno if requests are still open but if they are, could i request this? if not, feel free to delete! but in case they are open here's the request: jean, beidou, and ganyu reacting to accidentally hurting their s/o? it could be anything from simple slap in the face while turning around or hurting them with their vision/weapon :]

Accidents 

(ouchie -- having them accidentally hurt the reader T.T -- they didn’t mean too!) 

Warning -> SFW, accidental injury (Character -> Reader)(face injury (Jean)), (meantions of cuts to face / arms (Ganyu)), (hit by rope (Beidou))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Beidou, Jean, Ganyu 

Beidou

She takes pride in keeping everyone on her crew safe, no matter the danger - on sea or land, she will fight and guard each person in her charge -- you are no exception and in fact, you are probably the one she fights the hardest for. The thought of seeing you hurt doesn’t sit well with her and, if she can control it, she’d never let it happen 

How could she have known that she’d be the one to cause you discomfort -- that she’d end up allowing you to get hurt because she let something slip through her fingers … pride was a strong emotion, but guilt could send a pirate to the bottom of the ocean 

The weather had made a sudden turn for the worst. Dark clouds rolled overhead as the crew furled the sales to protect them from the downpour that was bound to arrive any second now. 

“Captain!” Beidou’s attention shifted to the crow's nest, her scout pointing violently toward a massive cumulus cloud in the distance. She knew it was bound to smash right them if they maintained this heading, so in an effort to avoid it, she ran toward the bow barking orders. 

“Tack to starboard! Finnick,” She turned to point at the several crew waiting on the foredeck, “raise the spinnaker, now.” They quickly bustled to their jobs while she found herself at the head of the boat. Her arms crossed as she oversaw the work of her crew; great pride swelling in her chest to see how organized they were even without her voice like a well-oiled machine everyone did their part.

As the creaking boat turned, heading parallel now to the storm, Beidou hoped that it would stay on its heading so the Crux wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of its onslaught. It was now a waiting game, but if she knew anything about the ocean - it would be a win for her today. 

Just then, a rope tying one of the many large sails snapped. Its reaction was like a domino effect and soon all hands were rushing to stop a potentially catastrophic outcome. Leaping over the railing, she landed hard onto the deck below, her feet finding solid ground long enough for her to push forward and, before the other crew had a chance to react, she was already climbing the mainmast as if it were a simple tree. It took her no time at all to reach the issue but the strong winds continued to whip around the ropes below her and by the time she managed to capture them - her eyes fell onto your frame. 

In terrible slow motion, she watched as you reached for the rope only to have it collide into your chest and knock you back into another crew member. Her heart sank, her arms burned, her determination steadfast as she made quick work of the problem before dropping back down to you. 

“Are you alright?” Someone called, their hands reaching to you as if to offer some assistance but Beidou knocked them away. Orders were told, tasks were assigned, and before you could object, she carried you into her quarters. 

When the door closed and she sat you on her bed, you could already tell how upset she was. “Beidou -- it was an accident, I didn’t have good footing and …” She uncrossed your arms, you didn’t even realize that you were holding onto your chest. Carefully peeling back your tunic, she noticed the welt that was starting to grow in the area below your collarbone. With a huff, she walked away before returning with a cloth. “You’re being silly, it’s not that ba-AD!” You shouted, the cold material shocking you as it came into contact with your burning injury. 

“This could have been much worse. You’re lucky it only bruised the surface.” Sitting next to you, she rested her knee near your lower back, and the warmth of her leg as she moved close to you somehow offset the ice on your chest. 

“I’m just upset I didn’t grab it, it was right there and then … ah - that’s sore.” She tested your shoulder, pushing against it with her palm and shaking her head at the notion that you were going to have a painful recovery. 

“You are a member of this crew and I have sworn an oath to protect you, but …” Her head dropped and she found it hard to continue. 'How could I let this happen' was written all over her expression. 

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You’re an excellent captain.” 

“A captain keeps her ship on course, its belly full, and its crew happy. How can I do that when my happiness is your wellbeing?” Her fingers ran over your ear, slipping in between the locks of your hair as if to show you how much she cherished you. Carefully, she leaned toward you, her lips connecting softly onto your shoulder as they trailed a path to your injury and even in the numbness of it you were still able to feel the heat from her love. “If you are ever out of your depth, allow me to be your lifeline.” 

“Of course, as long as you trust me to know when I'm there.” 

“Within reason.” As the boat rocked on the sea and the sky rumbled far into the distance, you captured the steady heart of the captain.  

Jean 

Jean would never intentionally harm you, the thought of putting someone innocent in danger makes her sick - as the acting Grandmaster she has a sworn duty to protect everyone around her from those who would do them harm 

So when she's the one who caused your injury, she's beside herself with regret 

She stood in her office, her back to the door as she let her mind wander on all the things that needed to be done. It was never-ending, and while she was always fulfilled by the products of her work, she often pushed herself so far that her body and mind became clouded. 

Today was one of those days. The work, planning, problem-solving was weighing on her. There is never enough time, she thought to herself as she rested her head in her hand and squeezed tighter around her rib cage. She was distracted, so exhausted that her ears felt blocked, her body swayed even though she knew she wasn't moving, and her head throbbed. 

"Jean ..." What needed to be done first, she pinched her nose and through harder. "Jean?" She sighed and attempted to stop the voices in her head. 

"Jean, hey?" A hand touched her arm and in her daze, she turned suddenly. Her hand was further from her face than she expected and with a solid smack, she hit something. 

"Ah!" Your startled voice shook her back to understanding, your expression and hand now covering your face sent her heart in the pit of her stomach. 

"Y/N? I'm so sorry ..." She rested her hand on your arm and shakily reached for your face, her fingers tenderly touching the ones that hid you from her pained eyes. "I didn't -- are you badly hurt?" 

"Ouch, you got me really good." You explained, scrunching and circling your nose but allowing her to take your hand. 

"My mind was elsewhere, I am ... I'm sorry." She ran her hands over your face, the warm feeling of wind slipping from her fingers and soon your expression eased. 

"Thanks, It was an accident, don't worry." 

"An accident like this should have never occurred, it is unbecoming of me to allow myself to falter." She stepped away from you, afraid that any prolonged contact would make it worse.

"Jean, you're allowed to make mistakes, and look - I'm fine, see." You grinned proudly but she couldn't let it go. 

"I need to make amends." 

"Mmm, well then, I have an idea." 

"What is it?" She looked at you hopeful, her eyes watching you as you stepped closer. 

"I'll take a kiss as an apology." You tapped the side of your cheek and presented it to her. 

With hesitating hands, she rested her fingers on the other side of your cheek and let her lips touch the skin she hurt, "I will be more observant in the future." 

You turned your head, your face so close you could feel her breath, "I don't see how that's possible, but if it means I get to have more of your attention, I'll be okay with that." 

You kissed her and wondered if she was able to heal through her lips. 

Ganyu 

The absolute sweetest soul in all of Teyvat. She cares deeply for all things, works hard to get the job done, and is dedicated in her actions - it's one reason why her contract with Rex Lapis was drafted; she is the epitome of ____ 

She would never maliciously hurt those around her and often puts herself in harm's way to keep others safe

To her, causing harm to someone she adores, loves, cherishes would be as severe as breaking her contract 

The two of you ran through the field, your legs burning as you dashed across the landscape and away from your persistent pursuers. 

"Ganyu! Up ahead!" You shouted, pointing to the higher ground and dashing in that direction. She followed, keeping an eye out on the enemies behind. To buy some time, she laid down her tantalizing cryo flower before picking up her pace to reach you. 

"From here we can handle them more easily, just be ready." She nodded her head and pulled back her bow, ready to strike. 

The fight was far more doable in this arena, each enemy falling one after another as the two of you fought in perfect sync. Charging her shot, she saw the ideal opportunity to hit multiple targets at once, but as soon as her arrow flew so did you. 

"Y/N!" She shouted but you were too far away and, as soon as you reached them, prepping your sword for a swing, the arrow exploded hitting everything in its path. You yelled, sliding on the ground only to slam hard into the dusty surface. In an instant, everything that Ganyu was, and wasn't, aiming for fell. 

Rushing forward, she reached you and quickly assessed your condition. Her hands hovering, her eyes scanning only to find the damage she had caused. Several small cuts appeared on your face, your arms were equally damaged and the despair that filled her was so great she prostrated herself before you. Her head resting on your hips as she bowed deeply. 

"Ga-Ganyu? What are you doing?" You asked, setting your sword to the side as you looked down at her. 

"I hurt you, please forgive me." You tried to pull her up but she shook her head and dug in deeper into her display. 

"It was an accident, I wasn't looking and that was a good shot. I'm not hurt." 

"You are!" She shot up, her eyes looking at the marks that she had created on your skin. "It was my fault that you have -- if-if they leave a scar ... I ..." She shook her head, unable to finish her thought. 

"Ganyu ... they won't leave a scar, and even if they did, don't you think I'd look super cool?" You smiled but she hated it. 

"It's not acceptable ... if you'd like to d-dismantle our contract, I understa-" 

You wrapped your arms around her, squeezing tightly as you spoke. "I don't want that, I'd never want that. I need you, please don't ever think I'd be okay if you weren't at my side." After a moment, she returned the gesture and you felt the pressure of her nose dig into your neck. When she finally pulled away, you let your hands slide down her arms and rest into her delicate hands.

"I'll just have to practice harder." She nodded fiercely as she helped you stand up. 

"If you insist." You laughed, thinking to yourself when she would ever find the time to do that. 

--

tag list:

@clemmywrites @sufzku @plenilunegazes @lucacandy @marianadibenea @nonniechan @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @excitedlysuffering

[curiosity-killed]

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

[wasabito]

hate to love you | dabi x reader

18+, minors dni please! 

wordcount: 2.4k

tags: smut, rough(ish) sex, fingering, slight choking, Dabi’s lowkey manipulative

synopsis: did your traitorous heart make the stupid decision to fall in love with him again, or had you always been his to keep?

“You seriously can’t keep coming here whenever you feel like it, Dabi,” you whisper while scrubbing at your weary eyelids, “If someone sees you, you’re gonna get me in a lot of trouble.”

A true statement and yet it takes no further prodding or convincing at all for you to crack open your window at three in the morning, and allow your ex to clamber through the fire escape. There are sirens blaring in the distance; the high-pitched wailing of fire trucks are a familiar sound, especially in this part of the city. You’ve told yourself that intrusions like these are exactly what you deserve for not cutting him off like the cancerous leech that he is.

Willpower alone can’t keep you from wrinkling your nose, considering how his clothes smell of ash under a faint layer of nicotine. It tells a far better story of his recent crime than anything he could ever say out of his mouth. These days you don’t bother asking. There isn't much of a point in doing so when all you are sure to receive is another sugar-coated lie.

“Don’t be like that, doll face,” he smirks. “I’ve gotta lot more tact than you’re giving me credit for. ”

Terrible, you think. And shameless too. Yes, Dabi is undoubtedly these things, but for all of his depravity and lack of care, you still can’t find it in yourself to turn him away.

He cracks a little smile at you, like he’s read your very thoughts. “What? You don’t trust me anymore?”

You don’t respond, and simply climb back into bed, pointedly ignoring the dark stain of blood on his coat. He may have your heart, but your trust is something you vow to never let him have again. With classes resuming for the semester, you are far too preoccupied with internships and scholarship applications to entertain an ex-boyfriend slash wanted criminal, especially one recently associated with The League of Villains.

It had been different back when he was just some nameless petty criminal, but these days his face was plastered all over the news. That wasn’t the kind of person you ever foresaw yourself getting involved with and yet here you are.

You hear the rustling of clothes and figure he’s probably going to steal one of your oversized hoodies again, all the while leaving his bunched up coat in the laundry bin for you to take care of later. It would give him all the more reason to return to your apartment under false pretenses.

Over the past few months you’ve learned to anticipate his tricks, it’s the only way you can keep yourself from living the rest of your days behind bars. Aiding and abetting is what this is… if you were to ever be caught, you’d have to say he forced you. That you had no choice. That you feared for your life.

“You seriously mad at me or what?” He drawls. The thud of his heavy boots echo through the room, but a quick glance over your shoulder tells you that he’s merely taken them off. Dabi pins you with a stare, brows quirked like he’s genuinely confused, if not mildly annoyed, but that doesn’t shake you. You only freeze when you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his knee.

The warmth of his breath ghosts your cheek as he says, “Scoot over.”

Is he serious right now? Why should you let him back into your bed after all he’s put you through?

“No.” you turn away, “Just take whatever it is you need and leave.”

There is silence for a few seconds but you know he hasn’t moved yet, not even an inch.

“C’mon, angel,” he pokes your side playfully, gazing unwaveringly at you from under his hooded eyelids. “I’ll be out of your hair before you even wake up.”

Chewing your lip, you heave out a sigh, and shift forward to make enough room for him to join you. No matter what you’ve said in the past, he’s always been the one in control. You feel like such an idiot, merely posturing while Dabi holds the reins.

He slides in behind you, pressing his body against yours; his arms looping around your waist in a way that is so familiar a pleasant hum nearly falls from your lips. You realize belatedly that he’s shirtless and the fabric of your tank top is far too thin to block the feel of hard sinew and muscle pressed so nicely against your back. Your shaky resolve crumbles to ruin in the presence of his blue flames.

Dabi continues to chat you up, regardless of your lack of response. You’re surprised. He isn’t usually so talkative, but apparently outmaneuvering the cops and getting away scot-free has a way of raising one's spirits.

Your body is slotted against his like a puzzle piece, like you are made for one another. Mid conversation his warm hands palm the fleshy skin of your stomach, giving you a soft caress. So caught up in the feel of it, you almost miss his next words.

“—missed you.”

Your thoughts stutter. For the briefest of moments, you think the words have come from you, but they surely haven’t.

Dabi presses a light kiss to your neck, as if to show that he means it—that in the month spent apart, he had missed you more than anything. And you can't help but shiver; you blame the staples on his chin that are cold in contrast to the heat from his mouth.

His kisses become firmer, and more intentional as he lures you into a feeling of contentment. Your body remembers him oh so well—and it wants what it clearly shouldn’t have.

“We aren’t together anymore, Dabi,” you rasp, “We shouldn’t even be doing this.”

And why not, a tiny voice chimes in the back of your head.

There are several, logically sound, and pragmatic reasons as to why you shouldn’t let Dabi fuck you into next week. It’s a shame, really, you’re far too tired, far too bewitched by this man to really sum up the effort to name them. Not even for your own sake.

“Just a quickie,” he mutters, lips brushing the shell of your ear. One of Dabi’s hands dip between your thighs and he knows he’s won when you part them without thought.

He squeezes the fat of your thigh like he’s done so many times in the past, fingers digging deliciously into your skin. “Mine.”

His fingers encourage you to loosen up a little, as he grinds his clothed dick against your ass.

The trail of kisses start from your shoulder and lead up to your jaw. All the while, Dabi keeps his other arm around your waist to hold you close. He sinks blunt teeth into the crook of your neck, licking languidly at the crescent shape left behind. He continues to nip and suck on the skin there until your heady moans leave you breathless and whiny. But none of it is enough to get your attention off the way he prods you with his index and middle finger through your shorts.

“You sound so sexy, baby.” he chuckles, “You gonna make more of those pretty sounds for me, hm?”

You don’t have an answer, simply put, you can’t think of anything else right now, other than the hand slipping past your panties, rubbing slow circles against the hood of your clit.

“Da-Dabi, please... more,”

At the sound of your wanton voice, Dabi sinks two fingers into you, thrusting his long digits, and coaxing you until you’ve soaked them with your juices. In response, you grind down against his hand, thighs clenching. He hits you with a series of slow pumps each time his wrists twist. You reach forward and grip his hand, wanting nothing more but for him to curl his fingers and hit the sweet spot.

“I know, babe, I know.” He murmurs, kissing your neck, but instead of continuing, Dabi pulls out you. He shifts until he’s quite literally looming over your form.

Though the room is mostly dark, the street lamp outside your window casts a slant beam of orange light into the bedroom. It’s more than enough for you to see Dabi’s grin, and the way his lips pull back to reveal a row of perfect teeth.

He’s handsome, even with the scars, and damaged skin. You could even argue that Dabi is increasingly more handsome because of them.

“You’re lookin’ at me pretty funny,” he says while straddling your hips. “Got something to say?”

You’ve been more silent than usual during this entire exchange, barely saying more than a few whispered pleas for more, but the heat in your belly grows. Heart pounding and tongue dry, you somehow manage to maintain eye contact.

Dabi was your first. The first person to make you feel wanted and alive. The first to bring you to the precipice of mind-boggling pleasure until you were quite literally seeing stars. It’s true that he was an asshole, and it’s true that this new route he’s taken scares you more than anything. But when you look at him, your heart insists that this is still the same man you had fallen for.

“Handsome.” You mumble, averting your eyes. “I was just thinking… about how handsome you are.”

At that admission, you take his fingers, the same he’d just fingered you with, into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it, sucking lightly. Dabi shudders. His blue eyes seem to glow with want and... something else that you can’t describe, but it’s tender and unguarded.

Dabi pulls his fingers from your mouth, replacing them his own. His lips shift against yours, tongue prodding until you open up. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull him flush against your chest, dragging him into your orbit. You aren’t certain when he had become the very moon on its axis, keeping the tides and seasons of your earth in perfect rhythm, but you do know that the emptiness you feel without him isn’t normal.

Fumbling hands follow the shirking of jeans. At some point your thin little top is pulled off and tossed into a corner. And soon enough, he’s pressing himself into you. The tip of his cock is just barely past your folds before you’re taking him in.

“Fuck!” Dabi braces a hand on your pillow. The other rests on your throat with a slight pressure, enough to make your walls clench around him.

It’s been a while for your ex; you can tell by the way he keeps his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does anyway, because you’d thought he would have moved on to someone else by now.

Dabi’s brows are pinched, and he’s being rougher than usual, still you get the sense that he’s savoring this. Like it’s his last meal. Like he may not ever get a chance like this again. It’s ridiculous for you to lament the final nail in the coffin of your relationship with Dabi, especially considering all the shit he’s caught up in now.

But, unfortunately, your heart operates on a separate plane from the rest of you.

It wants what it wants.

His hips snap forward, knocking into yours in a rapid pace that has tension knotting in your gut. You wrap your legs around his hips, high off the feeling of him so deep in you. The drag of his cock in your pussy has your toes curling. The pleasure is so much you can barely think. His groans and your choked back whimpers fill the room. You even attempt to bite into the back of your hand, just to keep them at bay, but Dabi isn’t having any of that.

“Don’t you dare hold back. I wanna hear you tell me how good I make you feel.”

The look in his eyes is so fervent and heated and feral, it sends a shock of pleasure straight to your core. Your thighs are coated in your own slick enough for him to slip in and out with ease. He smirks, licking his thumb and pressing it against your clit, eager to get you off. Your hips jerk in response to the way he’s rubbing and fucking you all at once.

“Dabi,” you cry out. “Yes!”

Sweat licks at your brow causing the little fine hairs around your hairline to stick to your skin.

Dabi presses his face right into your neck, and with each throaty groan that escapes his lips, you feel your gut twist with yearning. You reach up and grip his hair, causing him to groan even louder as he fucks you into oblivion.

“You feel so fucking good, angel, goddamn you’re gripping me so damn tight, fuck—” his babbling continues and you know he’s getting close. Dabi knows it too, so he slows down enough for him to reach around his back and grasp your ankles from around his waist. “You want me to fuck you harder? Hm?”

“Please—I want you so bad.”  You’re almost there, you just need a little bit more. Hearing you say those words makes Dabi chuckle.

He parts your thighs as far they can go, pinning them to the mattress. You hadn't thought it possible, but in this new position he sheathes himself even deeper than before, so much so, that your pussy milks him for all he has, walls spasming uncontrollably around his cock. The cry that falls from your mouth is smothered by a pair of lips.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and soon Dabi’s hips are stuttering against your own. He pulls out quickly, cumming all over your stomach, with a growl and a stroke of his hand.

For a moment the room is silent, save for your harsh breathing. Dabi collapses at your side, all fucked out and sweaty. His eyes never leave yours, even as he battles with fatigue.

As for you, the ache between your legs is a pleasant one you don’t bother complaining about as you clean yourself in the bathroom.

Upon return, you find that Dabi is sitting up in bed with a contemplative look on his face. You don’t ask what he’s thinking, instead you pull him into your arms and allow his head to rest against your chest.

If this is your last official night together, you’d rather spend it in his arms than alone.

🖤