#AND GIVE ME UNFAIR TASKS

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

“Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom���glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[abrahamvanhelsings]

#i can and will die on the hill that ned little - the actual lt. little of the show - is as far removed from the sad wet doormat of a man#that fanon likes to portray him as; as humanly possible#the closest correlation between fanon!ned and actual canon!ned is his prolonged misery and level of worry-induced distress#he's more than competent - we see it time and again throughout the first half of the show#but the biggest indication of this is crozier himself handing little his pistol when he goes into self-imposed rehab#HE WOULDN'T DO THAT IF HE DIDN'T THINK EDWARD WAS CAPABLE OF HANDLING THE SITUATION.#crozier's not a man to mince words or spare feelings - if he thought little unequal to the task he would've handed his pistol to fitzjames#instead; but no. he chooses edward precisely bc he knows edward is loyal and steadfast and capable of doing what needs to be done

#edward is the one who falters in that scene; not bc he's too overwhelmed to cope but because he knows exactly what is at stake if#anything goes wrong during crozier's convalescence; the lives of a hundred+ men turning on a dime should crozier not survive his withdrawal#and he's not wrong to feel daunted by the task! it's an immense amount of responsibility -#one crozier himself bowed and buckled under the second leadership of the expedition was thrust upon him! it's a terrifying situation;#but edward still steps up and in the wake of francis's seclusion; for once; things actually go somewhat smoothly!#the men are faring better without the black cloud of crozier's alcoholism and negativity hanging over them like a shroud;#he's gotten fitzjames off his back for the most part; other than for carnivale. and even here we see edward's diligence and commitment#to his position as first lieutenant of the expedition bc he's the one questioning using vital supplies for a party! he's the one#who agrees that the men need the distraction; but worries if they can afford to foot the bill later;#when things will be more difficult! that is the kind of mindset francis himself displays at the beginning#of the show when he's questioning sir john's decision to press forward despite every sign imaginable telling them not to!#EDWARD WORRIES FOR THE MEN THE SAME WAY CROZIER DOES

#what trips him up; what ends up driving a wedge between him and crozier; what causes little to fuck up the armory situation; is this:#crozier himself. bc francis was a mean drunk. and while in his cups he treated little as no better than a ship's boy; running menial errand#and very literally risking life and limb to indulge the vices of a man who treats him with open contempt (and let's be clear; that man isn'#the captain edward has come to know and respect since they set out from greenhithe - no; that is a stranger wearing his captain's face;#making choices that leave edward feeling frustrated and helpless and enraged)#what crozier's belittling of little's station and rank does during this time is make him deeply insecure of his own purpose and competence;via @boogiewoogieweeb

listen i don't think edward little was actually a bad first lieutenant. when we see him in the first episode he's calm and confident. he does not say much but he's amiable enough. crozier likes him, and i don't think crozier would like anyone he doesn't think capable in some way. generally he's dependable and knows what he's doing. however unfortunately for edward he has these qualities because he has a major case of eldest daughter syndrome, which means he both wants to please his mum (crozier) and has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his younger siblings (crew), so when they get stuck in the ice and crozier starts going (more) alcoholic, he enables his mum bc he doesn't want to disappoint her even if he doesn't agree with her, and he has to pick up the tasks and care for his siblings she's not doing, but he can't let his siblings know about their mum's situation because they'll get worried and restless. and like a true eldest daughter he has to bear the brunt of mummy's anger for being a disappointment but he also doesn't want to seek refuge with the man she divorced (fitzjames) because that feels like a betrayal. also while this is going on there is a giant bear who hunts his siblings for sport so they're dying left and right and also a changeling master manipulator who's making his siblings mad at their mum and who wants to fuck said mum before eating her like some sort of praying mantis. anyway i think i would start being miserable and anxious too.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji doesn't want another baby, and there's nothing you can do about it, so you come to terms with it.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji doesn’t get baby fever. Out of the two of you, you’re the only one that squeals around a cute baby. Toji already knows parenthood, and he’s changed way too many diapers and done way too many late night feedings to know that he never wants to do them again.

Babies are cute, but at this point in life, he’d rather just be an uncle. He gets to hold and play with the baby, but gets to give them back when an accident happens. Unclehood is much better than parenthood, dare he say. He gets to do all the fun stuff and none of the bad stuff.

He doesn’t really want to do it all again, and there’s nothing that you can do to change his mind.

“Toji!” You yell from Megumi’s bedroom, and the man walks to the bedroom, annoyed. The man loves you to death, but he hears his name way too many times in this home.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe as you open up a box. He makes his annoyance clear as he asks, “What?”

“I’m cleaning out Megumi’s closet, and look what I found.” You hold up the cutest onesie, one that fit six month old baby Megumi, something that feels like eons ago. Toji raises his brows, a smile coming to his lips.

“What? Are you thinking of having one?” Toji asks, and he’s surprised when you shake your head. It’s the first time you shake your head to that question. “Then what’s this?”

“Shouldn’t we donate it? Since we’re not having a baby, we don’t need these.” You tell him, and Toji can’t help but agree. There’s no way Megumi is going to fit into one of these onesies, even if he truly tried. 

“Let me help you.” He says, sitting down on the floor with you. You look at him, perking up your brows.

“What came over you? Suddenly being so helpful.” You chuckle, and Toji rolls his eyes as he grabs a onesie from the box. Why does it feel so small? He didn’t recall them being so small. “Who are you and what did you do with my husband?”

“Whatever happened to you wanting a baby? Who are you and what did you do with my wife?” Toji responds, wondering why now of all time you aren’t blabbering about how a baby would be a perfect addition to the house. These clothes are just so small and so adorable…

“I mean, we agreed to not have kids when we got married since you were done with that. It’s just unfair of me to ask for a baby when I know you don’t want more… So I accepted it.” You smile at him, feeling proud of yourself for this newfound maturity. Toji’s glad you’ve come to terms with it, because he was sure getting sick of it. 

He reaches into the box again, pulling out a pair of socks. He purses his lips together before looking at you. He didn’t remember babies having such small feet. “I’m glad that you–”

“I mean what’s even cool about babies? They’re cute, and nothing else. Then you have to…” You continue talking about the cons of babies, while Toji pulls out more and more clothes from the box. It seems to be getting smaller and smaller. His heart gets weaker with each item and he fights back the wicked thoughts. He can’t possibly be having… baby fever.

“Babies aren’t that great. Never have I looked at Megumi and thought ‘Oh I wish you were a stinky baby again.’ ” Toji says, but he pauses when he realizes that he’s had that thought before, way too many times. You chuckle before you quietly continue your task. Toji chews on the inside of his cheek, when he realizes something that he wishes he could push out of his mind.

He doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but you said you were done with asking. The umpteenth time is the charm or whatever they say. Toji hopes that by saying, “Oh, Megumi was just the chubbiest and sleepiest baby.” You’ll come to your senses. You have to go back to your duty of being the wife that annoys her husband for a baby, and this time around he’ll finally agree.

“Yeah, they’re sleepy until it’s three in the morning, then they’ll wake up.” You argue, not noticing what Toji is trying to do.

“He had the cutest sneezes.” Toji brings up.

“Yeah, means they’re sick because they put their hands on everything and then shove them in their mouths.”

“He was so cute when he laughed…”

“Have you heard how they cry? That easily outweighs that.” You don’t even notice how he’s putting the clothes back into the box. You keep taking out the same clothes, wondering why he had so many of the same set.

“For fuck’s sake! I want a baby.” Toji finally confesses, ashamed that he’s the one that has to bring it up. Your eyes widen, a smile coming to your lips before you practically jump on him to kiss him.

You kiss him over and over again, and Toji doesn’t want to fight you on it right now, but he has to put his hand over your lips when he senses the kiss leading to something else. He tells you, “Not in Megumi’s bedroom.”

“Right.” You laugh out of embarrassment, getting up from the floor and giving him a hand to do the same. 

He’s never seen you use so much force before as you drag him out of the bedroom. But it’s nice to see that you hadn’t really changed your mind, after all, that makes his job easier.

[natalievoncatte]

19. Bake

Leaning against the doorframe, Lena watched as Kara furrowed her brows in concentration so intense that it seemed her project might burst into flames. Literally. She was was craned over a cookbook on the counter and mumbling to herself about pearl-sized beads of butter and exactly what size a pearl is.

She never admitted it, but Kara sometimes she struggled with metaphors like that, little things that a human would know that eluded one of the last survivors of a doomed planet. The others, even Alex, thought it was cute or funny but they didn’t seem to notice the pain in Kara’s eyes or how lost she looked when she missed something others all knew.

Lena stalked up behind her and leaned over the counter beside her.

“Hey,” said Lena.

“Hi,” said Kara.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m making a pumpkin pie for tomorrow, but the dough doesn’t look right.”

Lena looked over Kara’s work and frowned. What she had was most definitely not pie dough. She then glanced at the fridge and saw the list of things Kara was trying to make.

“Hmm,” said Lena.

She opened the fridge and freezer and looked over Kara’s pantry and sighed.

This would not do at all.

“We’re taking a break,” said Lena.

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

In a few minutes she had an Instacart list cobbled together and had placed the order. Kara pouted when her attempted dough went in the bin, but Lena stood firm.

“Let me help you.”

Kara signed. “I want to do it myself.”

Lena’s heart felt like it was climbing up her throat. Kara was so effortlessly pretty that it was, frankly, unfair. Her glasses were off and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and Lena was obsessed. She had on a baggy t-shirt that softened her lithe, muscular frame and hung a little off one shoulder. She looked so soft despite the cords of steel hard muscle that flexed beneath her silky skin.

It made Lena a little panicky. Sometimes she’d think to herself that seeing Kara every time was just like seeing her for the first time, which was exactly like the first time she looked at another girl *like that* as if some pathway had just opened in her brain.

After the grocery order arrived and Lena bumped the driver’s tip to four figures for coming on the day before Thanksgiving, Lena set to work.

“I’ve never seen you cook,” said Kara.

“In the only one in the family who can,” said Lena, as she scrubbed a potato. “Lillian thought doing menial tasks was beneath our dignity, and forbade it. Of course I snuck out to spend time with the staff.”

Kara looked at her softly.

“Let’s get that pie in the works while these boil,” she said, slipping the potatoes into the pot.

Kara ended up helping more than anything, as Lena worked her way through the list.

“This way we’ll just have to make the turkey tomorrow,” she explained. “The rest will all be done and we’ll have some time to relax before everyone arrives. Is your mother coming?”

“She’s staying with Alex this year,” said Kara.

She was looking at Lena as she spoke, her voice a little distant. A shiver passed down Lena’s spine and she felt her cheeks pink a little, as she glanced away and turned back to grating frozen butter for the pie crust.

Kara sidled closer, seemingly reading the cookbook, but every time Lena looked over, Kara met her gaze and quickly turned away.

“Here you go, darling. Fold it like a letter, turn, fold it like a letter, turn. Do that three times, then back in the fridge for half an hour and we do it again.”

Lena was, in all honesty, doing the real work and giving Kara the simple tasks, like peeling the potatoes (which was easy, because she could not only do so without burning herself, but could also just reach into the boiling water to grab.)

Kara neatly folded the pie crust while Lena mashed the potatoes and pushed them through Kara’s sieve for perfect, Michelin-star restaurant smoothness. Lena was a little daunted by the “green bean casserole”, not exactly standard Luthor thanksgiving fare, but it was easier as she was watched Kara follow her instructions to knead dough for dinner rolls.

They worked in companionable silence, Lena doing one task while Kara did another, and slowly they built up an array of side dishes and a wonderful smelling pumpkin pie that Lena had to practically tear Kara away from. She almost wished she’d made a spare pie for Kara to eat right now.

“I’m huuuuuungry” she pleaded.

Looking over Kara’s now-full fridge, full of delicious Thanksgiving fare ready to be warmed in the oven, she pulled out her phone.

“We’ll get take-away delivered.”

Knowing what she was dealing with, Lena ordered enough Chinese for a small army and ended up picking at spicy beef and broccoli while Kara sat next to her, devouring her own body weight from five different containers.

“Here,” she said, offering Lena a fortune cookie.

Smirking, Lena popped it open and unfurled the little message.

“What’s it say?”

A great opportunity lies before you.

Lena laughed. “Nothing. Now we have to clean up, you know.”

“I can do that, you just relax.”

Lena sank back into the couch -she was tired- while Kara rolled up her sleeves and did the dishes, moving a little too fast for a human, at least until Lena looked over to watch her, studying the flexing muscles in her forearms as she worked. There was something playing on the tv, but it was vastly less interesting.

Kara smelled pleasantly of soap when she plopped on the couch, rocking Lena towards her. She sank back and sighed, letting her head loll over so she could look at Lena.

“Thank you for doing all that work. I’d have been hopeless without you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Lena said, softly.

It was getting late, the sun having long set; they’d toiled in the kitchen past nine o’clock.

It was time for Lena to go home.

Kara looked pensive, pretty eyes downcast.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”

It was an absurd question, profoundly silly, even. Lena had been to every Danvers family get together for the better part of three years now (there was that one missed year, gaping like a void in her chest, but that was over now, they were better, she wouldn’t spend another Thanksgiving drunk on her sofa and sobbing ever again)

Lena wished she’d opened one of the wine bottles. She needed a little help with her courage. Her voice cracked a little when she managed to say, “It’s getting late. I could just stay.”

Her heart was pounding.

Kara’s hand slid along the back of the couch and she crooked one of Lena’s curls around her finger, playing idly with it. They sat close, turned into each other, almost touching.

“You can have the bed,” said Kara. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Lena felt her throat go dry, and squeezed her hands together to keep them from shaking. She was as nervous as a schoolgirl, and it was weirdly delightful. Kara was watching her cocky confidence and a crooked smile.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” said Lena. “I trust you to keep your hands to yourself if we share the bed.”

“What will you sleep in?”

“Won’t you let me borrow something?”

Kara made a little gesture with her head. Lena nodded and headed behind the partition that made up Kara’s “bedroom wall” and turned to the clothes rack that served as her closet. Hand trembling, she swept each item aside, stopping when she found an old hoodie.

It was threadbare and the drawstrings were missing and it was much too large for her, but it was perfect, a maroon Midvale High sweatshirt. Lena carefully laid it out on the bed and in a single nervous, trembling motion, pulled her top over her head and set it aside.

It was chilly in the apartment, and her skin pricked with goose pimples as soon as the air hit it. She licked her lips nervously and popped the clasps on her bra before discarding it and dumping the sweatshirt on over her bare skin. The hem hung well below her waist.

Feeling her pulse in her throat, she pushed her leggings down and stepped out of them, then padded back out on bare feet, toes curling from the cold floor.

“You coming?”

Kara’s eyes went comically wide when she saw her, gaze instantly drawn to her pale legs.

“Yep.”

Lena retreated to the bedroom… then realized that Kara hadn’t changed. Lena was standing there awkwardly when Kara strolled around the partition and, in a slightly too hurried motion, pulled her own top off.

She was facing away, her back flexing magnificently as she stretched, now clad only in a soft black sports bra. Lena knew she was staring as Kara pushed her jeans down, revealing a pair of flannel boxer shorts beneath. She turned and looked at Lena.

Oh holy fuck, Lena thought.

“I usually just sleep like this,” Kara said, her voice quivering a little. “Is that okay?”

Lena nodded.

She climbed into the bed, sort of precariously parking on the edge. Kara lifted the covers and slid under, her weight on the mattress making it curve towards her, as though Lena were drawn, by gravity, to her embrace.

She let it take her. She ended up right next to Kara, and the lay turned on their sides towards each other.

Lena wanted to scream. This was a terrible idea.

“Hi,” Kara whispered.

“Hi, yourself,” said Lena.

God, she was right there, those muscles, the silky golden-tanned skin of her long legs (how did she have a tan in November?!), the supernaturally perfect blonde curls, and those big, pretty blue eyes just drinking her in.

Lena snuggled up under the blankets, shifting closer.

“So we’re sleeping in the same bed,” said Kara.

“Yes, I see we are. Though neither of us appears to be sleeping.”

“True,” said Kara, “though one might say that we’re about to sleep together.”

“One might,” Lena agreed.

“English is such a funny language. Someone might be confused if I went around saying I sleep with Lena Luthor.”

“Some might be jealous,” said Lena, arching a brow.

“Well of course. They don’t know what a little snuggle bunny you are.”

Lena grinned foolishly, trying to hide it behind the baggy sleeve of Kara’s sweatshirt.

“You’re wearing my clothes, too. Someone might say we’re going steady.”

“Aren’t we? Neither of us had been on a date with anyone in years.”

Lena wanted to feel bold, she really did, but she was so nervous she could barely breathe.

“Are you okay, baby?” Kara whispered. “Your heart is going really fast.”

Lena nodded. “I’m okay, just, um.”

She felt so silly. Here she was, bold, sassy, uber-confident battle bisexual Lena Luthor utterly tongue tied and helpless and in bed with her best friend.

Kara shifted closer, then closer still. Lena thought she might literally depart from her body when Kara’s legs tangled gently with hers. She stared in astonishment when Kara gently rolled her on her back… by climbing on top of her, slipping an arm around her back while the other hand brushed loose locks from her eyes and swept around to cradle the back of her head.

“Are we really doing this?” Lena choked out. “What are we doing?”

Kara’s face filled her vision, inches from kissing her. Hot breath ticked her lips.

“I think the real question is why did we wait so long?”

“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to die.”

Kara did, dipping down slowly to brush her lips lightly over Lena’s in the most teasing, potent first kiss she’d ever had, a kiss to make her forget all her other firsts. Then Kara kissed her harder and Lena could feel the need in her, hunger and passion pent up for years.

She responded with her own, pressing her hips up to meet Kara.

“You took my favorite hoodie.”

“I did.”

“Be a good girl, and give it back.”

Lena, it turned out, was a very good girl.

When she woke up the next… noonish, she was still feeling the afterglow. Kara was passed out and snoring next to her, arm casually thrown over Lena’s belly. She slipped out from under it and stretched in the sunlight before pulling the hoodie back on. She’d have to find something more proper to wear, after a shower and some breakfast. She didn’t want to spoil her dinner, but she was hungry. Kara had been… exhausting, honestly.

She wanted to do a little dance, right until she walked out into the main area of the loft, bare-assed and hoodie-clad, and found herself face to face with Alex and Eliza Danvers.

“What are you doing here?” Lena and Alex both yelped at the same time.

Eliza was beet red, but said, “Ah, hello, Lena. You came early?”

(And often)

“I, um, that is, I, we…”

Eliza was bemused now, giving her a motherly smile.

“Why don’t you go change and wake Kara up?”

Alex continued to stare at Lena, the wheels almost audibly spinning in her head.

“Okaygoodidea,” Lena chirped out, awkwardly tugging her sole garment down as she darted back into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Lena was in the shower while Kara very loudly explained the merits of texting first or just knocking on the door like a normal person, while Alex snapped back that it was technically still her apartment.

When she finally emerged in Kara’s flannel and Kara’s jeans, Alex and Kara were still bickering while Eliza was simply staring at the contents of the fridge. Lena walked over awkwardly (for multiple reasons) and rubbed at her arms.

“I helped Kara get all the other dishes ready. We only have to worry about the turkey.”

Eliza looked up and smirked at her.

“May I just say… it’s about time, sweetheart.”

[paulyenvol6]

Relief

Daemon Targaryen x Dornish POC reader

Based on this request

(Thank you for the request and feel free to send me whatever you would like me to write :))

Contains: smut, lactation kink, breast and nipple play, kissing, giving birth, mentions of pain during child bearing, very soft and kind husband Daemon, fluff

Wordcount: ~2.27k

Masterlist

You felt a stitch in your breasts just like you had the past days but still you remained feeling ashamed and tried to ignore the pain.

As if this pregnancy wasn't already exhausting enough and now there was an additional discomfort. You crossed your legs and tried to shift your position while holding your chest in an attempt to make the ache go away but it didn't work. In fact you knew what this was about; your body produced too much milk and it made your breasts feel swollen and sore and you hated it so much that tears threatened to well in your eyes.

It was stupid, it was unfair and you just wished it would magicially vanish. This hadn't happened during your pregnancies with Maela, your eldest daughter and Daerion, your son. Not that these pregnancies hadn't had their complications but at least your breasts hadn't produced so much milk that you nearly couldn't stand straight and had to rest against the wall in order to support yourself at times.

Your mood only worsened when guards came into your chambers, which you had visited this afternoon to seek some comfortability, to tell you that the hand of the king, Lord Dylvin had some business to discuss with your husband and you. You pressed your lips tightly together but heaved yourself from the chair.

"I'll be there. Just a minute.", you told the knight and he bowed. You didn't know what it was about and in truth didn't care either. That's why you didn't even receive the each person in the group of people standing in the corridor when the guards led you to Lord Dylvin. He was surrounded by the master of coin, master of whisperers, a steward and your husband, prince Daemon.

His sight brought you so much relief but at the same time you wished you could've remained in your chambers preferrably in a bath tub. But you were here now and when Daemon spotted you he immediately walked towards you and kissed you on your forehead.

"How are you, love?", he asked gently as though he could already sense that you weren't feeling fabulous. But you were too ashamed of telling him the truth and also simply didn't want to cause any trouble so you nodded.

"I'm fine, darling. Just a little tired." He took your hand in his' and then Dylvin cleared his throat and you found out that this meeting in the midst of the corridor was about the construction and refurbishments in the keep. King Viserys had ordered to have some parts of the castle renovated and had given your husband and you the task to watch over the work of the builders. So Dylvin led you through the castle while talking about things you couldn't receive. You really had tried and concentrated on his words but the discomfort was too much. His words faded into a bubbling in the background and your eyes were on the floor trying to collect yourself.

But Daemon had already noticed that something was troubling you. "What is it, y/n? You don't seem well."

You really were on the verge of breaking down but wanted to appear strong so you shook your head. "I'm well, really."

And for the next few minutes it seemed to you that Daemon believed you until suddenly when the group passed the small council chamber he gently pulled you with him and into the room. You gasped for air in surprise and confusedly looked to the door but were distracted quickly when your husband came close to you.

"I know that something is bothering you, sweet love.", he started. "Please, tell me how I can make it better."

"You can't make it better.", you insisted with a weak voice.

"What is it then?", Daemon said, softly caressing the side of your arms.

"It's hurting.", you whispered, because you knew that Daemon was so caring and protective over you that you actually shouldn't feel embarrassed telling him. He ran his hands soothingly over your shoulders and lowered his head so he could look in your eyes.

"What is hurting?", he asked softly.

"My breasts.", you said with teary eyes and pouted at him. "I think they're producing too much milk and so they're all swollen and aching and I feel like I can't do anything all day because it's always distracting me." Daemon pulled your head towards him and kissed your head.

"I'm so sorry, my love.", he whispered and your hands clung to his tunic. "I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?"

"No…", you said but your husband was determined to make you feel better so he held your face in his hands and ran his thumb over your cheek.

"Show me.", he whispered and you widened your eyes. "What?"

He smiled and looked down your body. "Please show me, sweetling. I want to help you."

You were suspicious and felt odd but did as he had told you so you removed one layer by one until your upper body was bare in front of him. His eyes ran over your figure and your swollen breasts and you nervously breathed. You knew Daemon for such a long time now that you were way beyond feeling embarrassed of being bare in front of him and yet you felt nervous with your aching breasts. But Daemon just reached out to you and caressed your waist.

"May I?", he asked looking to your chest. You were confused but even more curious so you nodded. His hands wandered up and he started to massage your breasts which made you sigh. It felt so good to have him distract you from the pain and though he couldn't make the swell disappear it felt so much better. Daemon was content with the look on your face and the way your eyes closed and smirked down at you.

His hands cupped and kneaded your breasts and you thought about if your husband could just do this for the rest of your pregnancy when he stopped and lowered his head. You wanted to stop and ask him what he was doing but something inside of you told you not to and because you trusted Daemon more than anyone else in the world you let him do what it was he was doing and felt him wrap his mouth around your left nipple. He had done this a million times already of course, almost every time when you had laid and created your children but this time it felt as though he had a purpose. His lips sucked at your nipple while his hand soothingly massaged your right breast.

Everything felt good to you and you wanted him to continue so you held on to his head as you felt him suck the milk that left your nipples. It brought you great relief and you felt your breath go slower than it had ever gone those past days.

"That's so good, Daemon.", you breathed and he licked and toyed with your nipple.

"I know, love. It's gonna feel so much better once I'm done with you."

You unconsciously smiled and dreamily watched his head as he was so determined to make you feel better and free you from the discomfort.

"You're so pretty, darling. Such pretty and sweet breasts. And the way you look pregnant with my child, it's making me go feral."

You quietly moaned as your left breast started to feel so much better and you were beyond relieved. As Daemon noticed it his mouth wandered to your right nipple and he repeated his technique.

"Seven hells, I can't believe the gods created something as beautiful as you and your pretty tits for me.", he moaned and roughly, but not so roughly that it would feel uncomfortable, kneaded your left breast.

You exhaled loudly and felt your milk spill and then being sucked up by your husband. It was odd, obscene perhaps, strange and new but you felt each and ever of your worries drop with Daemon's mouth on your tits and with him making the ache vanish.

"Yes Daemon.", you whined and wanted to let your eyes roll back. Your nipples felt vulnerable and sensitive so his swift tongue made them tingle with desire and then, you had lost your sense of time, he let go of your breasts and left you panting heavily and free of that uncomfortable feeling of your tits feeling too full. He crookedly smirked at you and you sighed feeling light.

"Thank you, husband.", you breathed and Daemon embraced you in a soft hug.

"No need to thank me, dear.", he whispered against your hair and his hand stroke your back.

"It's so much better.", you said quietly.

"From now on,", he then started and pulled you slightly away so you looked at him. "Every time your breasts feels swollen you'll come to me and I'll make you feel better."

Your heart fluttered and your knees felt wobbly and you felt like the young girl again who had laid her eyes on the rogue prince for the first time. You had been flushed, unable to speak an intelligent sentence, so taken had you been from his appearance.

"Thank you.", you breathed and he took your hand in his'.

"You're carrying my child, sweet love. That's the least I can do."

And then the two of you smiled at each other. The way a love couple did when they were in love and nothing in the world existed but the two of them. Daemon's hand reached down to caress your belly that was quite swollen by now and he lovingly watched the bump.

"I love you, y/n.", he spoke and in this moment you forgot why you had felt sad an hour ago. Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time from happiness rather than pain.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next months passed as they passed for a woman like you, pregnant with her third child. Or so you had thought because this pregnancy wasn't like the ones before but at this point you didn't know yet. Moons came and went and your belly grew bigger and bigger. As he had been with your first and second child, Daemon was at your side every moment looking out for you and caring only about your well – being and that of your children Maela and Daerion.

He joined you for baths, massaged your sore skin, dried your hair with towels, combed and oiled your hair, helped you get up from your chair as the pregnancy progressed and held you when you woke in the middle of the night because you felt sick. And as he had promised you, every time you felt that your breasts were filled with too much milk he put his mouth on your sensitive nipples and sucked at them in order to relieve you from the soreness. He would lick up the liquid, massage your breasts and afterwards you felt newborn.

And then you finally gave birth to your child with Daemon sitting by your bed and holding your hand while you pushed, pressed, screamed and cried. It was painful and exhausting just like you had already experienced it with the birth of your first two children but this time it was different. You had laid in your bed feeling tired but not the way you had before and then there was the maester's shout. "There is another!"

And you had gone through it again, pushed and pressed and then there was a second child. Twins, two little girls with the one crying and screaming while the other laid calmly in the maester's arms. Tears fell down your face as well but now it wasn't from the pain anymore but from feeling relieved and happy that you had just carried two healthy babes out in the world.

You were flooded with love and joy and Daemon's hand still enclosed yours as you ordered the maester to bring your children to you. And so he did after he had cleaned them. He placed the two small human beings on your breasts and your body trembled with this overwhelming feeling of love and relief. Daemon caressed the cheek of one of his daughters while you held the other.

"What should we call them?", you breathed while tears filled your eyes.

"I would like to call her Alyssa. After my mother.", Daemon whispered as he watched his child's small mouth that opened now and then to let out little noises.

You nodded. "Then she shall be named after my dear mother. Sheran." Your husband nodded as well and you even saw a tear rolling down his cheek while looking at his daughters.

"They are beautiful.", he breathed. "Like their mother."

You held your daughters carefully as if you were scared they could break. Another wave of tears flooded over you and Daemon soothingly ran his hand over your trembling shoulders.

"I love you, y/n. You are… amazing."

"I love you too.", you whispered and couldn't take your eyes off the delicate sweet creatures in your arms.

"Do you think Maela and Daerion will be happy?", you giggled and your husband scoffed. "It most definitely is unexpected. We were making them adjust to the thought of having one more sibling, but two? But I don't think there is a chance they can not love them."

You agreed and then the maester came back, who had previously left the room to give the two of you some privacy. Now he approached you as well to take a look at the twins, who contendly rested on your chest.

"Beautiful girls, my princess. They are strong, very strong."

Daemon smirked. "I should hope so. They're the blood of the dornish."

[lilacgaby]

sukuna x you, his favorite servant.

everyone knew you were his favorite. from the way he'd give you the least labor intensive tasks, he'd dress you in expensive silks, he'd feed you better than all the others even giving you you're own seat as his coveted table, it's obvious that he truely cared for you.

he'd even switched your room to one closer to his, lest he'd need assistance in the night. he started to only allow you to do certain tasks, such as bathing him after he dealt with 'nuisances' as he called them. you'd soon end up the only servant allowed into his room, the others only being allowed to speak from his doorway, ones that got too close got their heads sliced off promptly.

because of this, the servants themselves would treat you as if you were nothing. they'd shove past you in the halls, ignore your requests in hopes you'd get reprimanded by sukuna, and sometimes they'd leave you bruised and bloodied, taking their frustrations of this unfair treatment out on you.

as sukuna roamed his halls one day, he happened to to overhear the other servants in their chambers. he overheard the disdain they regarded you with, the hatred in their words as they called you nothing but a whore, lower than a concubine since he didn't grant you even that title, they mocked.

in his rage, he slammed the door open, making each of them drop to their knees and bow for forgiveness. but forgiveness fled them, while death graced them openly. he killed every last one of his servants. as the final body dropped to the ground, he felt confused. he let uraume clean the mess, not wanting you to witness that amount of carnage. but even that though confused him further. why did he care for you so? you were just a servant, someone beneath him, so why did their disrespect towards you anger him?

these thoughts ran through his mind as he made his way back to his bedroom, where you laid on his bed per his request. it was already late at night, and now he was covered in blood all over again.

"bathe me." as you regarded him with a bow, you prepared a bath for him. the act of you scrubbing blood of his naked chest wasn't a new one, but the way he eyed your every move wasn't normal.

"why do you interest me so?" he said, moving one of his arms up to your neck, his finger a moment away from slicing your throat. "you're so fragile, i could kill you..

yet it'd upset me." those words shocked you more than the threat of death. you stayed silent, not daring to ask if what he was implying was true.

he looked you in your eyes. "i'm relieving you of your servant duties, you will stay with me."

"thank you, thank you." you replied, surprised at his sudden graciousness.

"would that.. make you happy?" he asked suddenly, moving his hand away from your throat, and now holding yours. "i feel that i've started to value your happiness."

"yes, yes it would. thank you my lord." as you finished up bathing him, he carried you as if you weighed nothing and laid you back onto his bed. it was odd though, there'd normally be a concubine around now, to satisfy his needs after his bath.

"should, should i call someone my lord?" at this, he laughed at your naive nature.

"who would you call? they're all dead." he didn't know why, but at your face of slight horror, he didn't feel the satisfaction he thought he would. "does that upset you? they treated you horribly, did they not?"

"they.. they did.. but-"

"but what? you need not concern yourself with the feelings of the dead." he was a bit upset, wanting you to be appreciative of his actions. "do you believe my judgment is incorrect?" he said, putting the finger of one of his hands under your chin, pointing your face towards him.

"no, my lord.. thank you." she let out a soft smile, one that undoubtedly increased his heart beat.

"you're welcome, but.. for the inconvenience of having all my servants and concubines dead, what will you offer me?"

he laughed at your worried face, and with a hand waved it off.

"it was only a joke, you're here now. so,

your body will do to satisfy me quite nicely."

[mj0702]

El Classíco

Keira wanted to shoot someone. Preferly you. Or herself. She hasn't decided yet. Here she was stuck with you at the Barcelona Airport on the way to Madrid and you were so high on energy that you just zipped around players, staff and other passengers. She tried to keep you contained but the second you saw Mapí, Pina and Patri it was a lost battle. Lucy was all the way in London whilst you decided you'd stay in Barcelona so naturally the task of guardian fell to Keira. She cursed the day Lucy accepted Chelseas offer moving back England. Of course she wanted to take you with her but you fought her teeth and nails over it so in the end Keira herself stepped in saying she'll look after you – boy she wished she didn't. Keira loved you – more than anything on the world and with all the ticks and weird habits you had. But she's clearly not cut for motherhood.

“Bitsy!!!” Keira yelled out her tone a mix of warning and annoyance “Leave Vicky alone”

You looked up with a guilty look on your face from under the seats where you were currently occupied tying Vickys shoelaces together. Your lower lip pushed forward you started to pout immediately

“Don't give me that look... come here” the englishwoman rolled her eyes pushing Ewas leg slightly so she'll move a seat and make space for you which the polish forward immediately followed suit

“But...” you whined still laying on the ground under the seat Vicky sat on “... boring”

“It's not my fault our flight got delayed Bits...” Keira sighed knowing it would be absolutely horrifying once you boarded the plane “... I promise you can run it off later”

“Nooooo...” you whined like a three year old on the verge of a tantrum

Now Alexia stepped in helping her teammate out by grabbing your ankles pulling you out from under the bench unceremonially and before you could crawl forward again she already grabbed your shirt.

“Come one Cariño...” the blonde huffed as she pulled you upright “... you know you have to behave or we'll ship you back to Ingles”

“But it's so boring...” you stomped your foot missing Alexias by mere inches

“What is wrong with you today?” Alexia asked confused as she pushed you forward towards Keira

“There wasn't any time this morning that I could let her run out the energy and now she's just restless... just wait until we're on the plane... it's gonna be hell” Keira answered in your place as she pulled you down next to her

“We have the plane to ourselves...” the blonde said seeing how your leg started to bounce restlessly

“Thank God for that....” the englishwoman mumbled putting her hand on your knee trying to calm you

“Neña...” Mapí appeared next to Alexia smiling widely “... Ingrid said I'm allowed to go look at the duty free as long as I'm not going alone... you come?”

“Yes!!” you immediately exclaimed happily trying to stand up

“No” Keira said smiling fake

“But...” you whined

“Not what I meant María” Ingrid spoke up “... I meant Alexia, Irene or Marta”

“But they're no fun” Mapí looked at her girlfriend like she insulted her mother

“One of these three or plant your ass back on your seat” the norwegian said while Alexia snorted out a “Hell no”

“But maybe Neña wants something too....” the tattooed spaniard begged “... she likes the chocolates here.. I know... I bought them here and she really liked them”

“Keira please” you begged now too big puppy eyes on display

“No Bitsy...” Keira sighed pressing her eyes shut mentally counting to ten

“You are so unfair” you exclaimed before starting to pout your arms crossed over your chest

“I can offer a deal” Irene now spoke up the maternal instinct taking over “I can take y/n if Marta agrees taking Mapí... I think two of ous can rein them in”

“Bitsy I swear” Keira warned you and you knew it was serious “... if you step out of line ONCE I'll make sure Lucy picks you up from Madrid”

“But Lucy has a game herself... she has no time to come to fake-spain city” you looked genuinely confused

“Then you'll stay with one of them until she's able to pick you up” the englishwoman sneered her nerves truly gone

“I don't want to stay with them” you shook your head

“Then either behave for Irene OR stay seated....” Keira was about to lose it “... but behave!”

You shot out of your seat placing yourself next to Irene grabbing onto her shirt quickly making the defender chuckle

“You don't need to hold onto me, y/n” the tall defender said with a smile

“Oh no no...” Keira interrupted quickly “... she absolutely does... Lucy that daft woman took Bronzo with her... so until we have Bronzo back she knows she has to hold onto people”

“I never have to do that when I'm with Ona” you grumbled to yourself

“She only has you on afternoons after training... the only thing you do there is eat and sleep” Keira rolled her eyes “... and even if you don't HAVE to do it while you're with her you still do... I’ve got pictures”

“If you want to go to the duty free go now...” Alexia said after she had a short talk with one of the Airport staff “... we'll board in 30 Minutes”

“Come on Irene...” you quickly shot forward pulling the Legazpi rooted player after you not waiting on Mapí who just pulled Marta out of her seat earning a confused look from Caro.

“Where are they?” a stressed looking Alexia grumbled after she checked her watch a fourth time.

Everyone else was already boarded except for Mapí, Marta, Irene, Keira, you and herself

“I should’ve known” Keira said an annoyed look on her face “It’s Bitsy…. Her brain runs a million miles a second but dear God once she gets distracted “

“VAMOS” Alexia suddenly yells seeing Marta and Irene herding Mapí and you down the airport towards your gate

Alexia had to take a double take with all the stuff you and Mapí were carrying. Mapí was carrying two big (obviously) full bags – one in each hand – while you were had your arms full with chocolates, sweets and a Sombrero on your head. Irene was carrying a MASSIVE M&M plush toy dressed in a Barca Jersey

“Díos mio… what is all this???” the catalan escaped once you stopped in front of her grinning widely

“That’s Caro” you smiled happily making Irene turn around the plush toy showing Alexia the Jersey print “Scowling face… soft on the inside”

“I…” the blonde spaniard looked bewildered at you before turning to your guardian “Keira?”

“Don’t question it… off you hop Bitsy… plane is just waiting for you” Keira waved off pushing you towards the gangway “… I’ll pay you later Irene… thank you so much for taking her”

“De nada Keira” the defender adjusted her hold on “Caro” smiling softly “… but she paid for everything herself”

“How did… oh no… no no no no” Keira mumbled once she realized what you might have done reaching for her wallet

“BITSY!!” the englishwoman exclaimed after checking her wallet to find her credit card gone “.... you’ll work off every single penny I swear!!”

“She stole your credit card?” Alexia looked at Keira shocked

“Yeah… but she has a good head on her and I know she only gets kids stuff…. Or Christmas presents she then gifts to you…” Keira waved off smiling slightly as she saw you placing the massive plush toy on Caros lap who looked just terrified “… never let her see your cards by the way… Kid can save numbers in her head like no one else… she used Lucys card to buy herself a mini- cross bike.. she was six…”

“Good to know” the catalan mumbled before she scolded you “Cariño…. Leave Caro alone and sit down”

“Caro doesn’t want to sit with herself….” You whined trying again to get the norwegian to hold onto the M&M

“She... They need to get to know each other first…” Alexia said quickly “… you wouldn’t want a stranger to sit on your lap would you?”

“Oh… lost siento Caro” you mumbled after it dawned on you

“So let Caro sit next to… Caro and just sit down” the blonde said softly seeing how you chew your lip started to get distressed

“Good thinking there Capi” Keira chuckled as she pushed past the catalan

“Gracias…” Alexia smirk “… I slowly get the hanger of it with her”

“Hang… not hanger” Keira smiled “… and yes you do…”

“She’s not going to calm down once we get on the runway is she?” the catalan spoke softly to Keira watching how you got in your seat but already started to annoy Vicky by kicking the back of her seat

“Oh no…” Keira snorted “… it’s gonna get worse”

“Díos mio” Alexia sighed before making her way over to you to get into the seat next to you

“Alexia?” you mumbled uncomfortable

“Sí Cariño?” the blonde answered not really paying attention reading and article about women in sports

“Can I please get out?” your voice on the edge of panic but still low

“No Cari” the catalan said “… we already left the block and are ready for take off… you can use the toilet once the seatbelt sign is off”

“I don’t need the toilet…” you mumbled your breathing picking up slightly

“Then why…” Alexia now looked up to find you pressed into your seat your hands gripping the hand rest tightly your knuckles white your chest showing your rapid breathing “Cari?”

“Can I please get out?” you pressed out panicked

“Cariño….” The catalan said firmly “.. look at me”

You didn’t react so Alexia grabbed your chin forcing you to look at her

“Everything is okay…” the catalan said soft but firm “…. Talk to me so I can help you”

“I just want out” you said now in full on panic mode

“Not possible Cari… what do you need?” Alexia kept her voice soft hoping to calm you down

“Lucy” you whimpered and Alexia immediately had an idea

“Ona…” the blonde turned around still firmly holding you chin so you have something to concentrate on

“Sí?” Ona looked up from her book

“Have you got something that smells like Lucia?” Alexia asked

“I have an old hoodie…” the small catalan answered unsure

“Would you mind giving it up during take off?” the blonde asked feeling how you tried to free yourself from her hold

“No… why?” Ona looked confused

“Cariño needs something to calm her down” Alexia explained and Ona immediately pulled Lucys old TarHeel hoodie out of her bag giving it to her captain

“Gracias” the blonde smiled as she grabbed the fabric laying it over her shoulder before she guided your face towards it

“It’s not ideal but there’s nothing more that I can do right now” Alexia said softly as you pressed your nose into the fabric breathing in deeply immediately calming down at Lucys scent that still coated the hoodie

“There we go… Bueno Cari” the blonde mumbled letting go of you carefully when she was sure you’d stay right where you were

You whimpered once through the take off when the plane dropped a little bit but other than that it went quite smoothly and when Alexia checked on you when the seatbelt signs came off she found you snoring into Lucys hoodie against her shoulder. Keira came over the second she could having seen how you struggled before take off but also decided to let Alexia handle it. So now when she saw you sleeping against the blonde she couldn't help but smile

“Good job Capi” Keira teased nodding towards you “... but you'll wear her out later”

“I will what?” Alexia asked confused

“You'll power her out... her sleeping now?? She's recharging” the englishwoman grinned “She'll be all fresh and full of energy”

“Dios.... Cariño... wake up” the blonde had big eyes shaking you lightly

“I wouldn't do that if I were you” Keira smirked “... I know her better than she knows herself... don't wake her up... you'll regret it... oh... and don't move too much”

“Bebita...” you heard a soft voice and felt a light touch “... vamos Bebita... get up”

“Oni?” you mumbled more asleep than awake

“Sí... come on Bebita...” Ona kept her voice low knowing from experience that you better wake up slow otherwise you'll be grumpy big time

“Nooooo....” you whined turning away from her pulling the hoodie around your head

“Yes Bebita...” your sisters girlfriend chuckled starting to stroke your back

“Oniiii” you whined louder trying to shake her off

“Bebita... don't make me get Lucy to wake you up... come on... vamos” Ona threatened you playfully

“I'm up” you shot up hitting your head successfully on the overhead storage “Damn fucking fuck”

“Bebita” the small spaniard groaned when you started to rub your forehead

“Hurts” you whined but Ona ignored it pulling you out of your seat pushing you down the aisle

“Come on...” Ona said “... everyone is already off the plane and waiting for us”

“Where are we?” you looked confused still rubbing your head

“Madrid” the blonde spaniard answered shortly when she spotted Keira “... I got her up... she hit her head.... here you go”

“Kei...” you whined “... I don't like it here”

“Bitsy I told you it's El Classico this weekend” Keira said pulling you into her side “... I gave you the choice if you wanted to come with me or fly to Lucy”

“As if I fly to that godforsaken freezing country” you mumbled

“Still your birth country Bits” the englishwoman chuckled “... come on... we'll go to the hotel now and later Alexia will take you to the pitch so you can get some energy out”

“Do I have to go with heeeerrr...” you whined loudly

“Yes....” Keira chuckled

“I want to go with Mapí....” you started to drift off into a tantrum

“Mapí will be there too....” your guardian said calmly pressing a soft kiss to the little bump on your forehead “... even tho she'll be there with Ingrid and Irene”

“CARO” you suddenly yelled trying to get out of Keiras grip to get back to the aircraft

“She's right there” Keira tried to calm you down holding onto you tightly

“Not her” you exclaimed starting to work against Keira basically dragging her with you

“Bitsy” the englishwoman pressed through her teeth “... BOTH Caros are here”

“Where?” you asked confused stopping dead in your tracks

“Pina has it....” Keira said thanking god above that you came to a halt

“Not possible... Caro is bigger than Tweedledumb” you looked around finding Pina struggling with the massive plush toy “... huh... maybe it is possible”

“Come on Cari... again” Alexia yelled standing at the kick off point seeing you sprint at her “... derecha!”

“What was that again?” you stopped dead in your tracks looking at Alexia lost

“To the right...” the blonde rolled her eyes pointing the way she wanted you to go

“My right or your right?” you asked carefully

“Your right” the catalan shook her head turning around to Keira who was watching you from the stands with Ona, Marta, Vicky and Esmee “... is she always so difficult to train?”

“She's actually paying attention today” Keira laughed back “... wait till she gets distracted...”

“Ay díos” Alexia mumbled

“You díosing a lot today... maybe you should get a massage or something... you'll get wrinkles” you said tilting your head

“I'll get WHAT?” the blonde whipped around glaring at you

“Wrinkles... wait... what was the spaniard word....” you said before starting to chew your lip thinking hard “... aquagas or something... Ona... what's wrinkles again in spaniard??”

“ARRUGAS” Ona yelled back trying to hold in her laughter

“Arrogants.... that... you'll get that...” you nodded your head happily but a second later you squeaked starting to sprinting away when Alexia lunged at you

“Torna aquí!!!” the catalan yelled after you sprinting after you while the women in the stands bursted out laughing loudly

“What do I missing?” Aitana asked as she sat down next to Ona watching how Alexia chased you down the sideline

“Bebita va dir bàsicament a La Reina que s'està fent vella i arrugada” Ona snorted seeing how you tried to get rid of the blonde by changing directions and when that didn't work you tried to involve Mapí

“Cari... last chance... come down” Alexia said from her position looking up at you hands on her hips her eyebrow raised

“Nu-uh” you shook your head looking down at her

“Cariño...” the catalan warned you again pointing down to a spot in front of her

“Alexia...” Irene called over “... it's time... Madrid will come out any second for their training”

“I can't just leave her here” Alexia yelled back pointing at you

“I'll get Keira” Irene said shaking her head slightly... 17 years and you occupied a whole football team – even her 2 year old at home didn't need as much attention and needed to be looked after like you did

“No...” the blonde snapped “... I won't allow it”

“Alexia...” the defender said softly knowing why her friend denied any help “... you know there will be backlash if we don't leave the pitch when they come out”

“Down NOW” Alexia said strictly at you

“No.... you'll punish me even tho I didn't do anything” you said crossing your arms over your chest

“Alexia...” a new Person suddenly appeared next to Alexia and Irene

“Misa...” the blonde grumbled her eyes not leaving your form while Irene pulled the young Keeper into a hug

“Quick... probably unimportant question...” the dark haired Madrid player piped up “... why is there a Teenager standing on my crossbar?”

“Funny story...” Irene snorted “... that teenager is Lucy Bronze sister... she didn't wanna go back to england...”

“... it's FREEZING there... and wet... 362 days a year rain... why should I trade sunshine and good food for... rain, fish and Lucy...” you interrupted the defender protesting loudly who just ignored your outburst

“... she was a little... energetic and we thought it would be a good idea if she could run it off... but she has a habit of speaking before thinking... she told Alexia she's getting wrinkles” Irene ended her recap of the last two hours “... and when she noticed Alexia can outrun her she saved herself by climbing on the crossbar... we can't get her down without her getting injured so now Alexia tries it the old fashioned way...”

“Glaring and demanding?” Misa looked past Irene at Alexia

“Sí” the defender snorted

“Get. Down. NOW” the catalan demanded again and you shook your head again still perfectly balanced on the crossbar

“I can shoot her off...” Misa offered grinning

“Oh please... I saw your kick offs... 38% of your balls are half precise... the rest you're just lucky” this time it was you who snorted “... you couldn't shoot me off even if I was three time as big”

“¿disculpe???” the young keeper exclaimed

“No need to dislocate...” you waved off

“Cari!!” Alexia said again already seeing the rest of the Madrid squad shuffling out off the tunnel

“I'll get her down Alexia... don't worry” Misa grumbled

“Misa no..” the blonde “... ella terminará herida...”

But Misa already got herself a ball kicking it in your direction missing your head by mere centimeters but you didn't move a muscle nor did you flinch

“Oh look at that... I didn't even move!!!” you taunted the young spaniard “... make that 35%”

Again Misa kicked a ball in your direction and you saw how she already getting frustrated as this ball didn't even come close to you and you kept mocking her until Ona came jogging across the field holding out her phone

“Bebita... phone for you” she just said throwing her phone up you catching it with ease before she turned around greeting Misa

“Yeah??” you asked carefully into the mobile

“Get your ass off that Crossbar or I'll come out of retirement and pluck you off it meself” you heard from the other end

“Shit...” you exclaimed shocked swaying dangerously loosing your balance for a second “... Auntie E... Hiiiiiii”

“No no... off that crossbar... NOW” Ellen said strictly

“But Alexia...” you started but immediately got interrupted

“I don't care... I taught you professionalism.... act like I brought you up” the old england captain growled “... I can't believe I have to re-install your manners”

“She'll hit me because I said the truth... you also told me to tell the truth and stand up for yourself” you whined sticking your tongue out at Misa “... seriously... that was the fifth ball... how did you not hit me by now?”

“BB...” Ellen White warned you

“If she hits me it's your fault” you grumbled as jumped off the crossbar landing right in front of Alexia who immediately grabbed you pulling you away followed by Irene and Ona

“Bitsy... please behave today” Keira spoke lowly to you not to disturb her teammates on the way to the game “.. I'm starting and I can't work if I have to keep an eye on you – if you need anything Marta or Irene will be on the bench okay... PLEASE Bitsy”

“I'll have an eye on the Neña I promise!!” Mapí eagerly said already pulling on your arm

“Absolutely not...” the englishwoman quickly grabbed your other arm stopping any plan Mapí could come up with “... you stay with Frido or Ellie”

“But” you immediately whined

“No... I have to get on the pitch so either you decide NOW or I'll decide” Keira said strictly and Frido looked at her like a deer

“Ellie” you mumbled and immediately got shoved in the Keepers direction

“Ellie... you know her... control her” Keira said as she jogged off taking her place on the pitch

“OY REF!!!” you shot of the bench a fourth time seeing how Pina clutched her foot

“Chickadee...” Ellie said calmly pulling you back by your jersey

“¿Eres completamente estúpida, ciega como una puta perra??” you continued to yell now getting held back by Marta who immediately scolded you for your language

“Y/n!!” Marta quickly interrupted you slapping her hand over your mouth

“LethercomeIendherandherfakelashes” you muffled from under her hand as Marta pulled you down beside her

“You are worse than Mateo... and he's two” Marta sneered pressing you deeper into the seat next to her

“Who'sMateo?” you looked at her confused her hand still covering your mouth

“Irenes son” the dark haired spaniard rolled her eyes pulling her hand away

“Who's Irene?” you tilted your head

“Paredes... the one who you dragged into the duty free” Marta said shaking her head

“Oooooh... dinosaur spaniard... now I know who you... REF” you said smiling before you shot out of your seat again

“Sit back down” Marta scolded you again “How does Keira deal with this on a daily basis?”

“Why is your english so good? Spaniards are not very good at english” you wondered

“My girlfriend is norwegian... english is the easiest option” Marta rolled her eyes

“You're dating princess norwegian too?? Damn... I didn't expect that” your eyes wide

“No...” the older spaniard shook her head “... I'm not dating Ingrid... I'm in a relationship with Caroline”

“She's not nice... she didn't like Caro” you mumbled before shooting up again “Carmona you stupid...”

“Sit” Marta pulled you back harshly “... how does Keira deal with you all day long”

“CARMONA!!!” you yelled loudly and to your satisfaction the Madrid player looked over

“Fuck you” you yelled lifting both your middle fingers up flipping her off

“Y/n Lucia Tough Bronze!!” you heard Keira yell from her position on the pitch and you shrunk down in your seat

Alexia came off in the 70th minute taking over looking after you from Marta who was very grateful for the break. Until that you yelled at the Ref until you received a yellow card, were shit talking to Olga every chance you got, kicked a bottle in between Atheneas feet so she tripped while a throw in and nearly got your hands on the medic bag from Madrid

“Cari...” Alexia sighed as she pulled you on her lap “... por favor stop it”

“She not being fair...” you exclaimed but relaxed against Alexias chest

“We lead 5 – 0 Cari...” the blonde said softly “... she can't...”

“Someone can get hurt...” you mumbled “.... they're targeting Ona”

“Ona is a big girl...” the catalan kept her hold strong around your waist

“No she's not...” you snorted

“She's a strong player” Alexia corrected herself

“I don't like Madrid” you mumbled

“Bueno Cariño...” the blonde said proudly “.... that's a good Culer”

“You do know that it literally translates to “Arse” in english right? So I'm a good arse...” you deadpanned making Alexia laugh out loudly

“No causing trouble after the game is over okay” the catalan said after her eyes flickered to the clock seeing there were only a few minutes left

“I would never” you faked innocents smiling sweetly

“You definitely always would” Alexia said raising her eyebrow

“Cariño...” Alexia pressed out as you climbed on her back leaning over her shoulder trying to grab Olgas ponytail “... stop it”

“Just a few inches” you mumbled leaning further trying to snatch the end of the hair

Alexia struggled to keep her balance with your wait gravitating forward

“Bitsy” Keira suddenly appeared next to the blonde already watched you for a few minutes “... down”

“I nearly got...” you started and then Olga moved away shaking hands with Vicky “... great Keira... you scared her away”

“Come down Bitsy... you don't need to be carried around by Alexia” the englishwoman sighed

“But she's so high... it's like on top of the tower of London” you whined trying to direct the blonde into the direction of Olga again who was talking to Irene further down the field

“Bitsy...” Keira groaned pulling slightly on your Jersey

“I...” you whined but the look on Keiras face shut you up immediately and you slid down Alexias back

“Good girl” the englishwoman praised you smiling pulling you into her side limiting the actions you probably had planned “Come on... I need to shower and then we can get some food into you”

“Neña!!” Mapí yelled waving you over

“Keira pleeeeeaaaaaase...” you looked at her hopefully

“Go... but no trouble” Keira rolled her eyes letting go of you and you sprinted forward towards Mapí

“Keira!” Ingrid bursted through the locker room door her arm holding you securely

“What?” your guardian exclaimed annoyed from the showers

“We need help” the norwegian exclaimed making the englishwoman groan annoyed

“What did she do now?” Keira rolled her eyes getting a towel around her body

“Technically nothing...” Ingrid said as she carefully put you down

“Please...” the englishwoman snorted coming out of the shower “... she's a Bronze... dear Jesus Christ Bitsy... what have you done???”

“It was Carmona” you whined holding your nose tears in your eyes

“I TOLD you to leave that woman alone” Keira scolded you while she carefully pried your hand of your face seeing the dried blood from your nose “... Jesus Christ!”

“Keira she just went over and tipped her on the shoulder and Olga elbowed her in the face” Ingrid jumped in watching how the blonde inspected your face and nose

“Doesn't look broken...” Keira mumbled carefully moving your face from left to right “... still... we're gonna let a medic look over it”

“We tried that...” the norwegian piped up “... she kicked him”

“Yeah... she won't” the englishwoman said raised her eyebrow

“She wasn't happy...” Ingrid said carefully

“She won't kick again... I'm here” Keira said simply letting your face go stepping away from your form starting to dress herself

“I can't believe you bit her” Pina laughed sitting next to your sulking form “Her face”

“Yeah me face to” you said your voice nasal “... she broke me nose”

“Your Nose isn't broken” Keira said from the row behind you “.... it's bruised”

“It feels broken” you said pitifully

“Yeah well.... I told you to behave” the englishwoman waved off

“I DID... and she knocked me out” you exclaimed jumping up in your seat turning around

“Sit down Bits...” Keira said automatically and you sat back down huffing

“I'm never gonna be friendly to her ever again” you grumbled crossing your arms in front of your chest

“You will be respectfully and polite” your guardian warned you

“She hurt Ona” you shot up again trying to defend your actions

“And you caused a whole cluster fuck by BITING a spanish national player... BITING Bitsy... ” Keira shot back “... you cause an international cluster fuck”

“I would've hit her if I knew you'd preferred that” you pouted

“I would've preferred for you to stay out of trouble” the englishwoman said annoyance in her voice

“Mapí said it was okay.... that Real players are like tributes in the hunger games” you turned around again and you did it so fast you got a little dizzy

“Bitsy... stop arguing and stay in your seat” Keira just sighed knowing the more she talked about the incident the more you got fired up again

“Where is she?” Alexia asked immediately after she sat down next to Keira at the hotel bar

“Bed...” the englishwoman simply said “... Alexia listen....”

“You don't need to apologize....” the catalan said softly seeing how much Keira sometimes struggled to keep you in check “... she is who she is and I hope that she never changes – was it right to bite Olga? No... but that's who she is... she defends her family like no one I ever met... don't be mad at her for being herself...”

“She needs to grow up Alexia... she can't go around tanking through life without consequences...” Keira sighed taking a sip of her gin tonic “... she's 17 Ale... I'm scared that one day she's going that inch to far and there will be consequences... BIG consequences... she's like my own daughter... I need her to THINK before she acts.... she can't go around biting people”

“You won't change her Keira...” Alexia chuckled “... but you don't need to... she has a good heart and mostly a good head”

“I just never thought it'll be so hart to look after her on my own...” the englishwoman sighed

“But you aren't alone...” the catalan smiled as she took Keiras glass taking a sip herself “... you have all of us behind you – she's familia... you are familia Keira... we look after each other”

[emilys-bangs]

I can't read you (but if you want, the pleasure's all mine) | e.p

Tags: flirty!emily, shy!hotch's assistant!reader, fluff, hint of angst?, implied that emily isn't sleeping well :[, worried reader (duh), emily calls reader petnames, emily is down BAD

Summary: Emily loiters around in your office for no good reason.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: I'm not sure if the idea of Hotch's assistant reader belongs to a single person, but I take no credit for it, I got inspired to write my own after reading @/mariasont's absolutely fabulous bimbo!assistant series, so very many thanks to her!! (and if there are any hotch girlies around here go check it out). Alsoo I think I'm probably gonna add a few more parts to this as interconnected oneshots, I had too many ideas and they couldn't all fit into one fic :p

It’s not that your office is hidden; it’s just out of the way. A short walk before the bullpen’s glass doors, on the opposite side of the restrooms. It’s not nestled within the buzz, and yet a single agent flits to it like a moth to a flame, with no reason or purpose behind her frequent visits.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Emily murmurs. She flashes you a smile, genuine but fading as she rests her hip against your desk and leans on it.

“Hi.” You don’t return her smile, too busy examining the bruised shadows under her eyes. A frown pulls your lips downward. “You look tired.”

“Ouch,” she mock winces. “Take it easy on a girl’s ego, will you?”

“I’m serious. Did you sleep okay?”

Something flickers behind her eyes. They’re dark eyes, endless and lovely, but something about them seems dull today. “Slept okay,” she dips her chin in a nod, “as well as I could without you there with me.”

It’s instantaneous, the knot in your tongue. Heat surges above the collar of your button down, the flush creeping up your neck, and Emily’s gaze becomes too much to hold. You drop your eyes to the neat surface of your desk, shifting files around beneath your sweaty fingertips. 

“It’s a big bed,” she continues through her brilliant teeth, gently poking at your composure. “A king. Gets cold easily, y’know? Hey, out of curiosity, do you happen to run hot? I’m freezing most of—”

“Prentiss.”

You both look up to find Hotch at your open door, his mouth set in a straight line—probably at the blatant show of fraternization from his subordinate. Emily grins at him winningly, unabashed as she gives a nod and drawls out, “Morning.”

The stare he gives her is a usual for when she’s leaning against your desk: stop flirting with my assistant. He doesn’t say it, only arches his brow, but everyone hears it.

“Good morning.” His voice is dry. Walking in, his gaze flits to you. “Any urgent cases?”

“N-No sir,” you fluster, cheeks still unbearably hot at the thought of you and Emily intertwined on her bed. Rubbing at your temple, your eyes dip down to the sticky note you’d stuck on your desk in preparation for the day’s tasks. The scrawl of your handwriting sparks competence back into your brain. “Uh, Strauss called again,” you say sheepishly; Hotch’s lips press together, his top lip disappearing, “about the budget meeting. That’s…three times this month?” You tilt your head, grimacing. “I’m starting to worry she’ll barter away the jet soon, save herself the headache.”

Emily lets out a small laugh. “I think letting Morgan go would be more cost effective.” 

She’s not entirely unfair—you’ve filed enough damage reports this month to make the director weep. The corner of your mouth tickles. Emily catches your eyes, lashes feathering over her cheek in a wink.

Hotch ignores her. 

“We’ve only got consults for today, right?” He asks. You nod. “See if we can schedule it today, get it over with. And, uh,” his eyes linger pointedly on Emily, “it’s almost 9.”

“We’ll be there in a minute,” she answers for the both of you, drowning out your low, yes sir.

The lumping of you and her in a we makes you pathetically giddy. 

It could possibly be considered rude for you to drop your eyes back to your desk before your boss leaves, robbing him of attention, but he’s already turning on his heel and with the two of them crowding your space, it’s like you’re flayed open beneath their sharp eyes. Profilers, you grumble internally, a small shake to your hands as Emily’s perfume dissolves over you in waves, a product of her coming closer. She’s next to your elbow now, the pale outline of her hand creeping up next to yours.

“Here, honey, let me help.”

You inhale a sharp breath, feeling the cold air drop all the way to the pit of your stomach. “They’re just a few files.” You mumble, gathering the consults and standing clumsily, eager to escape the heat of her body pressing against yours.

It’s a bad move. Your chest bumps into her arm, not hard, but enough to make you sway on your feet. Emily’s other hand is quick to land on your waist, steadily restoring your balance with a squeeze through your cardigan that has your head reeling.

“Careful there,” she says softly. You blink at her, the tired slant of her lashes now almost at eye-level. “Sorry, I was in your way—”

“Are you sure you’re good?” You blurt. Emily’s mouth snaps shut and you hug the files to your chest, looking her over more thoroughly. Minimal, effortless makeup, but there’s a wrinkle in her shirt, creases in the skin under her eyes. It’s not unusual for her to be tired, given the nature of her job, but the lines of her body are more tense than you’ve seen them.

At your question, it’s almost like she coils further into a tight spring.

“Yeah.” Emily says firmly. “I’m good, don’t worry about me. My cat kept waking me up, yelling all night to be let out and then yelling to be let in.” Her mouth twists into a wry smile.

“Sergio?”

“Mhm,” she nods. “He’s talkative.”

Her tone is as convincing as it ever is, buttery smooth and warm. But you don’t believe her. It’s a gut feeling, not something you can explain with any shred of reason; the certainty of it clings to you, so you look into the molten pools of her irises and hold on.

“You can—you, um…” the thoughts scatter from your brain just when you start, possibly the quiet intensity of Emily’s eyes making them flutter out of your skull. But she’s patient. Tilting her head, she doesn’t interrupt your silence, only presses her lips together in a reassuring smile.

The frustration settles bitterly in your gut, but you blow out a breath. Swallow and gather your words with a firm hand. When you finally have a good grasp on them, you look Emily in the eye and speak slowly.

“You could talk to me, you know. About anything. If you’re not sleeping, or—or just if you want to,” you shrug jerkily. “Doesn’t have to be anything, really, but I’m here. For you.” Stupidly, you wish you could reach out, gather the courage to place your hand on her shoulder or curl your fingers around her elbow. Maybe offer a reassuring squeeze, something more tangible than your useless, mumbled words. Emily touches you so much, it should be normal, but sweat slicks your skin at the thought of you initiating.

The arch of her brows softens as she smiles. It takes some pressure off your chest, more so when she loosely cups your elbow. “Thank you.” She says quietly. Her hand squeezes and your eyes skate over her face, searching. “Really, honey, thank you. But I’m fine. Slept late is all.”

Now that you’ve caught her out, she lets you hear the hint of exhaustion in her voice, raspy threads lacing through her words. It makes you wonder what else she hides so easily, exactly how much effort it would take to get her to let her walls crumble and the facade burn down. But she’s already a flighty person, wings flapping if she feels like the walls are starting to close in, so you don’t push further even though you want to.

“Oh. Uh, okay,” you fidget with your sleeve, tugging it further down your hand to dry the sweat on it. A quick flash of your eyes on Emily’s face tells you she’s still smiling, her lips drawn in a gentle curve. You look away again. 

“I just wanted you to know. That you could, if you wanted to. ’bout anything.” The last part comes out as a whisper. You hug the consult files closer to your chest, your eyes dropping to the watch strapped to your wrist. 8:59. “We should go, the team’s—”

“I do know that.” Emily says. Her hand falls away from your elbow, but her eyes fill with so much warmth you hardly feel the loss. “I know it. And I—” The heat of her eyes disappears, seeking something lower than your eyesight before snapping back up again. A confused flurry rips through your gut and she falters, mouth opening and closing. Her lips part again and she finally says, “You could, too. Talk to me about anything.” Sincerity is thick in her voice, her gaze earnest as she stares into your soul. “I hope you know that.”

The back of your throat is briefly dry. A small dip of your chin constitutes a nod; swallowing, you curl your fingers around the edges of the consultation files.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I know.”

When Emily smiles, her eyes brighten the tiniest bit. A thrill goes through you at the thought of igniting it. Your own lips start to curve, but their path is rudely stopped when Emily’s brows tick upward.

“Oops,” she says lightly, her eyes finding the clock above your door. “9:01—” You curse as you look down at your own watch, eyes bugging out at the time. One minute is hardly late, but so far your record with Hotch has been spotless, and you want to keep it that way. 

Emily’s hand needlessly nudges the center of your back. “Let’s go, gorgeous.” She murmurs. You’re already moving, shooting past the open door of your office without hanging back to close it. A distant click tells you Emily does it, and a few more not so distant clicks of her heels on the floor tell you that she hurries to catch up to your gait. You’re still cursing under your breath, preemptively flustered at the thought of walking in late into the conference room, the rest of the team seated and waiting for your arrival. The weight of their eyes on you is already heavy.

“Your fault,” you mumble to Emily without any real heat.

She pulls open the bullpen door for you. You step through. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just a minute, two tops.” The relaxed drawl of her voice doesn’t make you slow down. “Listen, if Hotch does pull out the death glare just get behind me, yeah? I’ll protect you.”

You finally turn your head and look at her, none too surprised to find her grinning. It makes you falter, feet slowing as you cross the bullpen floor. Stupid heat burns in your cheeks; you look away.

“Shut up, Prentiss.”

“Sorry, babe.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights @professorsapphic

[mariasont]

I'm so glad you love writing for bimbo reader x Hotch because i love READING them so much 💕

What about reader getting jealous a witness or unsub is flirting with Hotch? Kinda like how the prostitutes are always flirting with Reid but this time it's Hotch getting all awkward and reader misreading it and thinking he's interested back?

Love your stuff!

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - A.H

a/n: hi so im so glad you love bimbo reader 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 that literally makes me so happy, thank you sm for requesting i hope you like that <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader being jelly, kind of out of character for bimbo reader honestly, she’s also a little flustered in this fic which also feels out of character but i kind of like it idk lmk what yall think

wc: 1.2k

The space between her hand and Hotch's bicep was dangerously narrow. She was saying something--something that was way flirtier than the situation required. Matter of fact than any situation required. Your pink nails, the same shade as your favorite bubblegum lip gloss, dug into the flesh of your palm, your lips forming a tight line as you fought the green jealousy that bubbled up like champagne.

It was fine. You were fine.

Until it wasn't.

She flashed a smile at Hotch, one that was undeniably pretty which only served to make your blood boil a degree hotter.

She was stunning, black hair, red lips, perfect skin. You loved yourself, obviously, but it was not in your character to deny that this woman was gorgeous by nature and she was edgeding her chair closer to him.

"Thank you so much for your help today, Agent Hotchner." Her voice had climbed a few pitches in comparison than when she was talking privately with you. "Is it okay if I give you my number, just in case I think of anything else?"

"Of course." Hotch was smiling-- no beaming--at the woman, reaching into his pocket to grab his business card.

Your lashes fluttered up and down is disbelief, jealously rolling off of you in category nine waves. You folded your hands on top of your skirt, cleaning and unclenching until you started to lose feeling in your fingertips.

You're fine, just take a deep breath. Hotch was simply being polite. That's it. But the rationalized thoughts in your head did not match the quicksand feeling in your stomach.

Unfortunately for you, showing and expressing your feelings in an appropriate manner had always been a struggle. Articulating when things were bothering you was a foreign language to you. The other side to this was you had no logical reason to feel the way you did. He was your boss, and you were his assistant. He wasn't your boyfriend. But that fine distinction did nothing to dampen the primal impulse to reach across the desk and drag the woman by her hair. 

That was dramatic, really. It was unfair to project your ugly feelings onto her when in all honestly, in her position, you’d be doing the exact same.

As much as you loved your job and adored your boss, sometimes you wished you didn’t work for him so you could push the boundaries just a little bit when it came to flirting with him.

Thankfully, for the sake of your career, the woman gone before your rash instincts could manifest into action. You needed to get a grip and possibly go reapply your lipstick.

You spent the majority of the day, from that point, avoiding Hotch like the plague. You weren't quite equipped to sift through the emotional chaos brewing inside you, especially when your focus needed to be on getting your tasks done, not on who Hotch might be interested in. It didn't matter if he liked that woman. You could cope. Maybe.

When you did have to come into contact with him, you found yourself acting like a wounded animal. The sight of his face only served to replay that stupid smile he flashed at her. He was probably already in love, daydreaming about their shared life ahead. Their three kids, the white picket fence, maybe even a dog.

You flipped open your makeup mirror, dabbing powder on to your nose and forehead while mentally reminding yourself to pull it together and behave like the grown-up you were supposed to be.

No sooner had you left the bathroom had you crashed into something, legs betraying you as you lurched forward, nearly spiraling to the floor. Your hands shot out, closing around the nearest object which felt to be the lapels of a suit. 

Your gaze snapped into sharp focus. Yes, definitely the lapels of a suit, and not just any suit--It was Hotch's.

Fantastic.

You quickly retracted your hands, letting them hang limply by your sides as you took a cautious step backward.

His brows furrowed, lips tipping downward as he absently adjusted his watch. "You okay?"

"Peachy!”

That was too much.

You attempted to sidestep him, but he anticipated the move. His arm reached out with surprising speed, fastening around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Hey." It was funny how a single word in that deep voice of his was enough to make your heart beat a little faster. "You've been avoiding me all day. I don't want to pry, but if there's something I've done to upset you, I'd like to know so we can clear the air."

"What?" you responded too quickly, avoiding his gaze as your hand went to your neck. "Oh, no, no, it's not you, sir. I just... I think I might be catching a cold or something. Just feeling a bit woozy."

You were definitely coming down with something—it was a green, nasty disease that had your judgement in a clouded haze.

He smiled, making your heart go into overdrive. "You're a terrible liar."

"No idea what you mean." Your voice went up an octave too high. "But, um, there's a bunch of witnesses I need to follow up with. There's this one who was... really eager. Maybe she'd respond better to you?"

There was a pause before Hotch spoke, his voice low and certain. "I've seen many reactions from you, but jealousy? Is that what's happening here?"

You blinked rapidly, heat rising to your cheeks. "Jealous? That's... that's ridiculous."

"I'd like to think I know you better than that." He gave you a deadpan look. "You've been avoiding eye contact, you've been unusually quiet, and I didn't necessarily miss that look you gave her."

You swallowed hard, proving him right and looking anywhere but him as you fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. 

"It's not... it's just, you know... I don't know, the smile you gave her, it seemed a bit unprofessional to me."

Your words tumbled out in a flustered rush, not capable of taking them back as you realized the absurdity of it all.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Unprofessional? Did it look like I was flirting? Because that would be a first."

"No, I don't think you were flirting, not exactly." You should stop yourself while you're ahead. "But she was, and you didn't exactly shut it down."

Hotch's face was unreadable. "Honestly, I didn't even realize she was flirting with me. Even so, I'm curious—why would that bother you?"

"Well, I mean, I... It doesn't, not really. I just think we should all be focused, that's all," you managed, voice faltering as you tried to be convincing.

"I assure you, my focus is on all the right places," Hotch said, taking a step closer that almost felt invasive. His gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before snapping back up to your eyes.

"O-okay."

The closeness of him was sending your body into overdrive, the room suddenly feeling too small, his presence way too intense.

"And just for the record," Hotch said over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "If I were to flirt, trust me, it would be with someone who already had all my attention."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[unluckycactus]

You know, I've been thinking about OG!Cale's deal with GoD for a while now. And the more I think about it, the more unfair it is to me?

GoD literally reached out to Og!Cale when he was the most vulnerable, after he had lost everything and quite casually put the faith of the world on his shoulders.

GoD literally swept in in his time of need and went 'give up your life and I will save your world' like a total fraudulent bastard

For real tho, GoD literally put Og!Cale between a rock and a hard place. It was one of these instances in which the other side was presented with the illusion of freedom, because let's be real: Og!Cale was basically coerced into taking the deal.

It is presented to us as if Og!Cale really just threw away his world and life at the opportunity of reuniting with his mother, but that's not really what happened, is it? His mother's reincarnation was just an incentive to take said deal, but he only took the deal after being reassured that his world would be saved

Now, let's say Og!Cale still refused the deal. Then what?

Realistically speaking, what could've Og!Cale done by just regressing? GoD never offered him the same help he handed over KRS (aka the awfully descriptive and full of 'useless details' novel that set Cale's initial course of action) and thus that was never a path open for Og!Cale

Of course, I am by no means discrediting KRS, because the novel was just a guide and the results he got is all his own merit. He efficiently used the information provided, instead of doing a total redo like many other MCs do, and I love him for that

But that's the thing, it was never a matter of which soul was more competent to handle the task in the first place. It not that Og!Cale wasn't competent enough to save his own world

It was always about what would work best for GoD's own agenda and fix his own problems

Because, allow me to recap but:

Og!Cale got reverse isekaied, which is like ten times harder to pull off if you ask me.

We're talking about a literal fantasy boomer being thrown in the modern apocalyptic age, and worse, bro is in the body of someone pretty important (no matter how hard KRS tried to downplay it). If he half-asses his new job, it's gonna be a problem for sure

He has incomplete information on his hands. The impressive part is that, regardless, HeniRoksoo still manages to do KRS' work properly. Jang Sejong says so in the side stories

So it was never an issue of Og!Cale not being competent. The GoD definitely could have arranged a deal that didn't involve KRS at all, he just didn't do it that way because it wasn't convenient for him

I guess GoD did it this way to fix the problem with the White Star's curse affecting KRS, which I get, but idk

I'd like more people to acknowledge that Og!Cale didn't willingly screw KRS over, but was put in a difficult position himself

I know Og!Cale would take all the blame and paint himself as the selfish bastard who stole KRS!Cale's body, if asked, bc is very on brand on him, but I need more ppl to see through his bullshit and beat into Og!Cale skull that he got taken advantage of, too

[twst-kumi]

What about yan malleus who courts his darling with fae practices?

So what I see the most about fairies is about how they would kidnap theirs bride and very little about actual courtship. But if we are talking about wedding, I did read somewhere that both fairy couple would give each other some task to accomplish before said wedding. Of course the task must be under the spouse capacity, so they could accomplish it well.

Warning: Yandere, forced marriage.

Your name

Fairy and Fae are a very closeted species, so very little are known about them. Malleus should have thought about it before courting you. You were HIS cute little human, so pure and innocent. A quality loved by fairies on other species. Fairy are quite unfair and selfish in their expectations for other than their own kin. And Malleus are the same, if not more. For the fair folk, their human lovers (or any other species) should be pure, innocent and loyal. Qualities you already hold in Malleus' eyes. "Oh? You want to exchange name, child of man?"

He is overjoyed by this. Name hold power, that mainly why he refused to give you his name the first time you both met. Of course since you so naively told him yours, he already had A LOT of power over you. When he developed feeling for you, Malleus wanted to kidnap you at first. But Lilia convinced him not to. It was a very old and outdated rules. Too old for this modern day and age.

That why after the incident during VDC you asked to exchange name once again, he was over the moon. Malleus had yours, but you also wanted his. "Uh fu fu! I hope you understand the meaning of your word, Child of man." Before you could ask about what he meant by that, he gave you his full name. The name that will be attached to yours soon enough.

Now that you both exchanged name, you two are officially in a relationship. You both are owning each other now. Which means that you both are now on an "equal" standing... In theory. While it's true, you being magicless mean you can't really use his name against him. But Malleus will gladly oblige if you need anything from him.

But Malleus know that name isn't highly protected in human society. So even though you are both engaged, Malleus decide to court you a bit. Fairy and dragons like pretty and shiny thing, so of course the draconian prince decided to gift you with some of his prettiest gem. By then you have already learned some fairy custom so you knew not to accept a gift from a fairy without giving something back. "Oh my, you shouldn't have, my dear child of man. You don't know how much this mean to me." He laughed delighted to see you have accepted his courtship and give him another one back. It was a pretty stained glass bracelet, but seeing your financial status he guess this is the best you could find. He is even more happy when you said you started to learn Fairy custom. That mean that you did it consciously and love him too, isn't it? Malleus take it as a sign that he could finally move forward with preparing the wedding.

As per the Fairy custom, Malleus prepared some task for you. He also didn't hesitate to ask for some task for him to accomplish. Since he you are magicless, he decided to give you some easy task. Like helping polish his horn, or going on a stroll with him. One time he even demanded that you cook for him. For the task Malleus has been asking from you. They were all so simple and adorable (in his eyes) that he couldn't help but swoon. Knowing that he loved to do his laundry on his own, you asked him to help you wash and hang them. Which he did eagerly. While he enjoyed it, it felt like you were preparing him for your marital life. "Look like the roof need to be repaired. Do you want me to do it, Child of man?", "I don't want to bother you with it Tsunotaro. Are you sure?" Malleus laugh it off before fixing it with magic. "It's no problem at all." He said with a smile.

You discovered about your engagement and wedding by Lilia. The wedding approaching the retired general took upon him to teach you every thing you needed to know for your life as Malleus' spouse and future consort of Briar Valley. When you discovered it, you ran to Malleus demanding explanation. The Fae prince just smiled as if you were just throwing a tantrum. "I did warn you, Child of man. Exchanging name are proof we are now betrothed. We have already completed most of the wedding rituals now only the ceremony are left." It broke his heart he saw you trying to push him away and leave. How you called him crazy, and tried to back out of the wedding. Malleus pinned your behavior on stress. You must be very anxious about your future as his consort. It must be why. The fairy dragon sighed before using your name against you. He hugged you gently and kissed your lips softly. "I know it's a very big step. I'm also anxious about it. But don't worry, I will take care of everything." He smiled as you were under his control unable to move. This is why you never give your name to a fairy.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Pizzaburger Presidency

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

The corporate wing of the Democrats has objectively terrible political instincts, because the corporate wing of the Dems wants things that are very unpopular with the electorate (this is a trait they share with the Republican establishment).

Remember Hillary Clinton's unimaginably terrible campaign slogan, "America is already great?" In other words, "Vote for me if you believe that nothing needs to change":

https://twitter.com/HillaryClinton/status/758501814945869824

Biden picked up the "This is fine" messaging where Clinton left off, promising that "nothing would fundamentally change" if he became president:

https://www.salon.com/2019/06/19/joe-biden-to-rich-donors-nothing-would-fundamentally-change-if-hes-elected/

Biden didn't so much win that election as Trump lost it, by doing extremely unpopular things, including badly bungling the American covid response and killing about a million people.

Biden's 2020 election victory was a squeaker, and it was absolutely dependent on compromising with the party's left wing, embodied by the Warren and Sanders campaigns. The Unity Task Force promised – and delivered – key appointments and policies that represented serious and powerful change for the better:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/10/thanks-obama/#triangulation

Despite these excellent appointments and policies, the Biden administration has remained unpopular and is heading into the 2024 election with worryingly poor numbers. There is a lot of debate about why this might be. It's undeniable that every leader who has presided over a period of inflation, irrespective of political tendency, is facing extreme defenstration, from Rishi Sunak, the far-right prime minister of the UK, to the relentlessly centrist Justin Trudeau in Canada:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-29-three-barriers-biden-reelection/

It's also true that Biden has presided over a genocide, which he has been proudly and significantly complicit in. That Trump would have done the same or worse is beside the point. A political leader who does things that the voters deplore can't expect to become more popular, though perhaps they can pull off less unpopular:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-left-is-not-joe-bidens-problem

Biden may be attracting unfair blame for inflation, and totally fair blame for genocide, but in addition to those problems, there's this: Biden hasn't gotten credit for the actual good things he's done:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoflHnGrCpM

Writing in his newsletter, Matt Stoller offers an explanation for this lack of credit: the Biden White House almost never talks about any of these triumphs, even the bold, generational ones that will significantly alter the political landscape no matter who wins the next election:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-does-the-biden-white-house-hate

Biden's antitrust enforcers have gone after price-fixing in oil, food and rent – the three largest sources of voter cost-of-living concern. They've done more on these three kinds of crime than all of their predecessors over the past forty years, combined. And yet, Stoller finds example after example of White House press secretaries being lobbed softballs by the press and refusing to even try to swing at them. When asked about any of this stuff, the White House demurs, refusing to comment.

The reasons they give for this is that they don't want to mess up an active case while it's before the courts. But that's not how this works. Yes, misstatements about active cases can do serious damage, but not talking about cases extinguishes the political will needed to carry them out. That's why a competent press secretary excellent briefings and training, because they must talk about these cases.

Think for a moment about the fact that the US government is – at this very moment – trying to break up Google, the largest tech company in the history of the world, and there has been virtually no press about it. This is a gigantic story. It's literally the biggest business story ever. It's practically a secret.

Why doesn't the Biden admin want to talk about this very small number of very good things it's doing? To understand that, you have to understand the hollowness of "centrist" politics as practiced in the Democratic Party.

The Democrats, like all political parties, are a coalition. Now, there are lots of ways to keep a coalition together. Parties who detest one another can stay in coalition provided that each partner is getting something they want out of it – even if one partner is bitterly unhappy about everything else happening in the coalition. That's the present-day Democratic approach: arrest students, bomb Gaza, but promise to do something about abortion and a few other issues while gesturing with real and justified alarm at Trump's open fascism, and hope that the party's left turns out at the polls this fall.

Leaders who play this game can't announce that they are deliberately making a vital coalition partner miserable and furious. Instead, they insist that they are "compromising" and point to the fact that "everyone is equally unhappy" with the way things are going.

This school of politics – "Everyone is angry at me, therefore I am doing something right" – has a name, courtesy of Anat Shenker-Osorio: "Pizzaburger politics." Say half your family wants burgers for dinner and the other half wants pizza: make a pizzaburger and disappoint all of them, and declare yourself to be a politics genius:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/17/pizzaburgers/

But Biden's Pizzaburger Presidency doesn't disappoint everyone equally. Sure, Biden appointed some brilliant antitrust enforcers to begin the long project of smashing the corporate juggernauts built through forty years of Reaganomics (including the Reganomics of Bill Clinton and Obama). But his lifetime federal judicial appointments are drawn heavily from the corporate wing of the party's darlings, and those judges will spend the rest of their lives ruling against the kinds of enforcers Biden put in charge of the FTC and DoJ antitrust division:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

So that's one reason that Biden's comms team won't talk about his most successful and popular policies. But there's another reason: schismogenesis.

"Schismogenesis" is a anthropological concept describing how groups define themselves in opposition to their opponents (if they're for it, we're against it). Think of the liberals who became cheerleaders for the "intelligence community" (you know the CIA spies who organized murderous coups against a dozen Latin American democracies, and the FBI agents who tried to get MLK to kill himself) as soon as Trump and his allies began to rail against them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

Part of Trump's takeover of conservativism is a revival of "the paranoid style" of the American right – the conspiratorial, unhinged apocalyptic rhetoric that the movement's leaders are no longer capable of keeping a lid on:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos

This stuff – the lizard-people/Bilderberg/blood libel/antisemitic/Great Replacement/race realist/gender critical whackadoodlery – was always in conservative rhetoric, but it was reserved for internal communications, a way to talk to low-information voters in private forums. It wasn't supposed to make it into your campaign ads:

https://www.statesman.com/story/news/politics/elections/2024/05/27/texas-republicans-adopts-conservative-wish-list-for-the-2024-platform/73858798007/

Today's conservative vibe is all about saying the quiet part aloud. Historian Rick Perlstein calls this the "authoritarian ratchet": conservativism promises a return to a "prelapsarian" state, before the country lost its way:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-29-my-political-depression-problem/

This is presented as imperative: unless we restore that mythical order, the country is doomed. We might just be the last generation of free Americans!

But that state never existed, and can never be recovered, but it doesn't matter. When conservatives lose a fight they declare to be existential (say, trans bathroom bans), they just pretend they never cared about it and move on to the next panic.

It's actually worse for them when they win. When the GOP repeals Roe, or takes the Presidency, the Senate and Congress, and still fails to restore that lost glory, then they have to find someone or something to blame. They turn on themselves, purging their ranks, promise ever-more-unhinged policies that will finally restore the state that never existed.

This is where schismogenesis comes in. If the GOP is making big, bold promises, then a shismogenesis-poisoned liberal will insist that the Dems must be "the party of normal." If the GOP's radical wing is taking the upper hand, then the Dems must be the party whose radical wing is marginalized (see also: UK Labour).

This is the trap of schismogenesis. It's possible for the things your opponents do to be wrong, but tactically sound (like promising the big changes that voters want). The difference you should seek to establish between yourself and your enemies isn't in promising to maintaining the status quo – it's in promising to make better, big muscular changes, and keeping those promises.

It's possible to acknowledge that an odious institution to do something good – like the CIA and FBI trying to wrongfoot Trump's most unhinged policies – without becoming a stan for that institution, and without abandoning your stance that the institution should either be root-and-branch reformed or abolished altogether.

The mere fact that your enemy uses a sound tactic to do something bad doesn't make that tactic invalid. As Naomi Klein writes in her magnificent Doppelganger, the right's genius is in co-opting progressive rhetoric and making it mean the opposite: think of their ownership of "fake news" or the equivalence of transphobia with feminism, of opposition to genocide with antisemitism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Promising bold policies and then talking about them in plain language at every opportunity is something demagogues do, but having bold policies and talking about them doesn't make you a demagogue.

The reason demagogues talk that way is that it works. It captures the interest of potential followers, and keeps existing followers excited about the project.

Choosing not to do these things is political suicide. Good politics aren't boring. They're exciting. The fact that Republicans use eschatological rhetoric to motivate crazed insurrectionists who think they're the last hope for a good future doesn't change the fact that we are at a critical juncture for a survivable future.

If the GOP wins this coming election – or when Pierre Poilievre's petro-tories win the next Canadian election – they will do everything they can to set the planet on fire and render it permanently uninhabitable by humans and other animals. We are running out of time.

We can't afford to cede this ground to the right. Remember the clickbait wars? Low-quality websites and Facebook accounts got really good at ginning up misleading, compelling headlines that attracted a lot of monetizable clicks.

For a certain kind of online scolding centrist, the lesson from this era was that headlines should a) be boring and b) not leave out any salient fact. This is very bad headline-writing advice. While it claims to be in service to thoughtfulness and nuance, it misses out on the most important nuance of all: there's a difference between a misleading headline and a headline that calls out the most salient element of the story and then fleshes that out with more detail in the body of the article. If a headline completely summarizes the article, it's not a headline, it's an abstract.

Biden's comms team isn't bragging about the administration's accomplishments, because the senior partners in this coalition oppose those accomplishments. They don't want to win an election based on the promise to prosecute and anti-corporate revolution, because they are counter-revolutionaries.

The Democratic coalition has some irredeemably terrible elements. It also has elements that I would march into the sun for. The party itself is a very weak institution that's bad at resolving the tension between both groups:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Pizzaburgers don't make anyone happy and they're not supposed to. They're a convenient cover for the winners of intraparty struggles to keep the losers from staying home on election day. I don't know how Biden can win this coming election, but I know how he can lose it: keep on reminding us that all the good things about his administration were undertaken reluctantly and could be jettisoned in a second Biden administration.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/29/sub-bushel-comms-strategy/#nothing-would-fundamentally-change

[pinkshortbread]

🌺 Daisuke X Reader 🌺

Oh, I need to stop writing about our fav bubbly intern.

Oh well, how about no ? 😘

A touch-starved Daisuke today.

Daisuke is your secret partner.

Action at the Tulpar.

Warning : SUGGESTIVE.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY MOTHER TONGUE !

....

[I need you in my arms]

Foot steps behind you, calling your name. You feel arms around your waist, his face into the crook of your neck.

"What is it, Daisuke...?"

"Need your touch."

"Well, I'm here, you okay ?" You respond, smiling while still doing your given task.

"Mh-hm... But you're still working." He mumbles against your nape, giving kisses here and there.

You shivered, your shoulders reacting to his affectionnate action. "It's my break-time soon, I promise you to give you some attention after finishing my task, Dai..."

"Unfair..." He pouts as his hands travels on your hips, giving them a tiny squeeze. "Please..."

He is clearly desperate.

"Swansea's going to be mad at us." You giggled. His head still on your shoulder, you decided to rub his cheek with your hand, that will give him some patience before the full attention. Maybe ?

"Don't care about Swansea, it's not 5 minutes that will kill us. Please, I need you in my arms..."

You huffed by his cute behaviour. "Okay, but just 5 minutes, no longer." You say as your turn to face him, putting your tools back onto the table.

"Perfect." Daisuke grins.

Suddenly, he grabs your waist and lifts you up to the table. You gasp. "Daisuke, not here !" He sits you.

"Did I say I want a quickie here ?" He purred while brushing his nose against your cheek. "I missed you."

A kiss on your cheek.

A kiss on your ear.

A kiss on your jaw.

"We see eachothers everyday, Dai..." You cooed, placing your hands onto his chest. You play with the collar of his shirt.

A kiss on your neck.

"Yes, but I have the right to be fond of you even when you're next to me everyday ?"

A second kiss, then a third, and a fourth one.

You sigh by his gestures, feeling his hands making their way under your shirt.

BITE.

"A-Ah !" You yelp.

Everytime he bites, you are not warned. He is just, too soft at the moment, and then-

"Here you go..." Daisuke says into your neck, licking the little blood he caused by his marking.

"That will cause me trouble." You groaned, even though you smiled at him so softly. And him, pretty proud by his foolishness.

"Why ? I like it. Don't you ?"

"You already know my opinion about it, not at work though, especially now..." You whined.

"Welp. It's been 5 minutes !" He removes his hands from your tummy, peeling off your hands from his shirt. "You must work."

He gives one last squeeze to your hips as he steals a peck from your lips before rushing off to his own work. "Bye Babe !"

"Wh- Oh, hey ! Dai !" You are left confused and horny on your working table.

"I swear, this guy..." You sigh.

Facepalm.

[hyuckiefluff]

Pretty Boy

pairing: na jaemin x f!reader genre: roommates to lovers wc : 1.2k + summary: you are determined to convince your roommate to let you put mascara on his pretty eyelashes but things escalate when playful touches become more intimate. a/n: this is a short story that i wrote in like an hour sorry if it’s kind of all over the place lol. it has an open ending so possible part 2 if it doesn’t flop?? tysm for reading &lt;33

part 2

"Jaemin, come here!!" you followed him out of the room as he escaped.

"Nope! Not a chance!" Jaemin retorted.

"C'mon, you're being so dramatic,"

"I'm not the one trying to poke your eyeballs with a strange object," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he walked away, keeping a safe distance from you.

"Please, it's just mascara. I'm trying to see how it looks on you," you said, practically sprinting after him across the shared department.

"When I agreed to room with you, I didn't know I was signing up to become your little experiment," he grumbled, effortlessly leaping over the couch and assuming a defensive stance. "Why do you even want to put mascara on me?"

"Like I said, you're being dramatic. And you have the prettiest eyelashes I've ever seen, so I must see what they look like all done,"

He rolled his eyes, having had this conversation with you before. You had always pointed out the unfairness of him having such long lashes but never doing anything to them.

"I'm not letting you come close to my eyes with that thing," he firmly stated, causing you to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Wait, what’s that behind you?” While you didn't expect him to actually fall for it, he momentarily looked over his shoulder, and in that split second, you swiftly jumped over the couch, landing right on top of him with a victorious war cry.

"C'mooon," he protested, but his hands instinctively found their place on your hips, keeping you in place.

"I'm just going to apply a little bit," you said innocently, moving closer to his face. He remained silent, which caught you off guard, considering how vehemently he had opposed the idea just moments ago.

His gaze was fixed on you, and you took it as an opportunity to concentrate on your task. You were so focused on not accidentally poking his eyes that you failed to notice what his hands were doing. He started slowly caressing your hips, it seemed like he was doing it unconsciously at first but then he started gently pinching and groping and it was getting harder for you to keep your hand steady.

"Does it usually take you this long to do this?" he asked, looking upwards as you worked the mascara brush on his lashes.

"Well, excuse me, but you're distracting me," you responded, pausing for a moment to give him an accusing look. When he met your gaze, you almost dropped the brush because of how absurdly beautiful he looked. His eyes appeared larger, framed by the now even longer and darker lashes. Despite his frown and occasional uncomfortable blinking, he looked mesmerizing.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to hide the smile threatening to escape. However, he caught your gesture and gently took your hand, placing a kiss on it. "What are you smiling at? Do I look that ridiculous?" he asked, his voice lowering in tone.

"No," you replied, your voice slightly faltering. "You look good." If he hadn't already sensed your flustered state from the way your voice trembled, he certainly did when you flinched in response to his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you down closer to him.

"Really? Show me then," he said, his gaze fixed on you. For a moment, you were confused, dazed by the way he was looking at you. Then it clicked, and you understood what he meant. Without hesitation, you pulled out your phone to take a picture of him.

As you captured the shot, you couldn't help but bite your lip at how intimate it looked. He was looking up at you through his eyelashes, a slight smile playing on his lips. The image clearly showed the fact that you were straddling him, his hands resting on your thighs. You knew you'd have to delete this picture after showing him because your best friends were notoriously nosy, and the last thing you wanted was for them to stumble upon a photo of you practically riding your roommate.

"Are you gonna show me or..." his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat, handing him the phone. You would have gotten off his lap by now if it weren't for his hand still holding you firmly in place.

"Mhmm..." he hummed approvingly as he looked at the picture. "I like it. I'm sending it to myself."

"What? No, no," you panicked, attempting to grab your phone, but he held it out of reach, lifting it over his head. Retrieving it would mean getting even closer to him. Instead, you gave him a death stare and an expression that clearly said, 'Seriously dude?'

"If you like it so much, I can just take another one of just you," you pleaded.

"But I like this one because you're in it too," he responded, raising an eyebrow.

Your stomach dropped, and before you could form a coherent response, Jaemin propped himself up on his elbows, your phone abandoned somewhere behind him. His face was now incredibly close to yours, his minty breath filling the space between you. You couldn't move away, and if you're honest with yourself, you wouldn't even if you could. After two years of being roommates with Jaemin, you had grown used to him being clingy and affectionate, and while you had found yourself on his lap on previous occasions, it had never escalated to this level of intensity.

Unconsciously, you bit your lip, a nervous habit of yours, catching Jaemin's attention. He lifted his hand and gently caressed your bottom lip with his thumb, causing you to cease the biting. Now his focus was entirely on your lips, and perhaps it was your imagination, but he seemed to be getting closer. "Don't bite these pretty lips; you'll roughen them up," he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Sorry..." you murmured instinctively, your voice sounding small and vulnerable. It was a clear indication that he was flustering you.

There were so many alarms going off in your head, warning you of the dangerous territory you were about to venture into. If you were smart, you would heed those warnings and run away.

"Okay, well, I'm done here, so..." you began to say, your voice trailing off.

"Are you? But there's a space here that needs taking care of," he pointed towards his eye, and as you leaned closer, you struggled to see anything out of the ordinary.

"What? Whe-" Your words were abruptly swallowed by his lips as they pressed against yours, catching you completely off guard. A whimper escaped your lips, met with a low grunt from him, as he skillfully moved his lips against yours. His hands found their way up from your hips to your waist, exploring the exposed skin revealed by your riding-up shirt. The kiss started off gentle but quickly escalated, his lips and hands working their way up your body. It was you who deepened the kiss, prodding him with your tongue, silently asking for entry. He sighed contently, granting you access, and the kiss grew wetter and more intense as your tongues danced together. His hips began to buck up, creating a delicious friction between your cores, eliciting moans from both of you.

There was no turning back now. You were well aware of it, and Jaemin seemed to understand too, as he pulled away from the kiss, suggesting, "Maybe we should move to the bed."

The implications made your lower stomach churn with a mix of excitement and nervousness, but you nodded, a smile playing on your lips.

"Let's go, pretty boy," you said teasingly, before darting away, Jaemin hot on your heels, eagerly chasing after you.

part 2

feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

[millyh23]

The Silence Between Us

kiera walsh x reader

word count: 1.1k

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The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room. You sat on the edge of the couch, knees pulled to your chest as you watched Kiera move around the flat like a ghost, always in motion, always doing something that didn’t involve you. She was at the kitchen counter now, absently flipping through a stack of mail, not even glancing in your direction.

You felt like you were disappearing, slowly fading into the background of her life.

"Kiera," you called out softly, but she didn’t respond, too absorbed in whatever meaningless task was taking her attention.

"Kiera," you said again, louder this time, and she finally looked up, startled as if she hadn’t realized you were still there.

"Hm? What’s up?" she asked, her voice casual, distracted. You could see her eyes flicking to her phone on the counter, waiting for it to buzz with the next thing she needed to do.

"I need to talk to you," you said, the words coming out shakier than you intended. You hated how small your voice sounded, how you had to beg for her to give you even this moment.

She sighed, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can it wait? I’ve got training early tomorrow, and I still need to go over some video footage before bed."

Your heart clenched painfully at her words. It was always training. Always football. Always something else that came before you. You could feel the walls closing in, the weight of your emotions pressing down on your chest, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

"No, it can’t wait," you said, standing up too fast, your knees almost giving way under you. Desperation clawed at your throat, tears already stinging your eyes. "I’m… I’m breaking, Kiera. I can’t keep living like this—like I don’t exist in your world anymore."

Kiera frowned, her expression hardening as if she didn’t want to deal with whatever emotional outburst you were about to unleash. "You’re overthinking it, Y/N. You know how demanding my schedule is. It’s not personal."

"Not personal?" Your voice wavered, and you took a shaky step toward her. "How can it not be personal? I’m here, waiting for you every single day, praying that you’ll notice me for just a second. I feel like I’m drowning, Kiera, and you don’t even see it. You’re too busy looking at everything else. When was the last time you looked at me and actually saw me?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but you didn’t let her. The floodgates were open now, and everything you’d been holding back came pouring out.

"I love you more than anything, more than my own life," you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your confession. "I’d give you everything without a second thought—my time, my energy, my heart. But you… you won’t even give me a moment. Not because you can’t, but because you don’t want to."

Tears were streaming down your face now, and you didn’t care. You were past the point of trying to hold it together. You were breaking, and you needed her to see that.

Kiera shifted uncomfortably, her face unreadable. "You’re being unfair," she said quietly. "I never asked you to wait for me like this. I never asked for—"

"I know you didn’t!" you cut her off, your voice rising in desperation. "You didn’t have to ask! That’s the point, Kiera! I want to be here for you. I want to support you. But what am I supposed to do when it feels like you don’t care? Like I’m just… just something you tolerate when you have the time!"

Kiera’s expression hardened further, her posture stiff as if she was building a wall between you. "You know what this life is like. You know how important football is to me. It’s my career, Y/N."

"I’m not asking you to choose between me and football!" you cried out, your hands trembling as you reached for her. "I’m asking for something, Kiera. Anything. Just enough to remind me that I still matter to you. That I’m not just…just in the way."

She stepped back, avoiding your touch, and the distance between you felt like a chasm now. "I can’t give you what you’re asking for," she said, her voice cold, almost mechanical. "I don’t have the time. I don’t have the energy. I’m trying my best, but it’s not enough for you, is it?"

You felt like you’d been slapped, her words cutting deeper than anything you’d ever imagined. "Not enough?" you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. "Kiera, you’re not even trying anymore. You’re just… letting me fall apart while you stand there and watch."

For a moment, the silence was deafening. Kiera just stared at you, her face unreadable, but you could see it in her eyes. She had already let go a long time ago. You were just now realizing it.

The truth hit you like a punch to the gut.

"The difference between my love for you and your love for me," you choked out, your voice trembling with raw emotion, "is that I’d give you my life without you even asking. But you won’t even give me a second of your time because your time is too precious to waste on me."

Kiera’s eyes flickered with something—regret, guilt, maybe even sadness—but she didn’t move. She didn’t deny it. She just stood there, letting the words settle like a final nail in the coffin of what you once had.

You couldn’t breathe. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you had no more fight left in you. You’d given everything, and she hadn’t even tried to catch you as you fell.

"I can’t do this anymore," you whispered, the words tearing you apart as they left your lips. "I love you, Kiera, but I can’t keep being an afterthought in your life. I deserve more than this."

Kiera looked at you then, really looked at you for the first time in what felt like forever. But it was too late. The damage was done.

"I’m sorry," she said, but the apology felt empty, hollow. It wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough.

You wiped the tears from your face, your body shaking as you took a step back toward the door. "Goodbye, Kiera."

You waited for her to stop you, to say something, anything, that would make you stay. But she didn’t. She just stood there, watching as you walked out of her life, leaving behind the pieces of your shattered heart.

And as the door clicked shut behind you, you realized you had been holding onto something that had already been lost. She was never going to fight for you. She was never going to choose you.

And that was the difference between you and her.

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The End