#And in my own home i tend to just put them in a corner

[enekorre]

I just made a little friend. I was watching someone repair a doll when I heard a loud flapping next to me. After chasing about the moth I caught it and put it outside. And when I return inside who do I see plastered to the kitchen window? My new fuzzy little friend, the moth!

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | v. the confession

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel find peace after a hard day, but it doesn’t stay that way for long.

chapter rating: E (18+ only, MINORS DNI, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), unprotected piv, joel has a filthy mouth, appearance of this man’s obvious breeding kink, angst to end it all--may contain some typos but i can’t be bothered to check)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | previous chapter

The waiting room of the doctor’s office you were interviewing at for a temp job as an administrative assistant while you awaited replies from more long-term positions was bleak and empty. The cold space was bright with overhead fluorescent lighting, the soft hum of a court TV show pairing horribly with the soft clacks of the receptionist’s keyboard. It was the perfect recipe for a headache, if your earlier conversation with your father hadn’t already given you one. 

He’d been on your ass about keeping up with your chores, and though you admittedly had fallen behind on your end of the bargain, it wasn’t like you could tell him why you’d been too busy to chip in lately. 

I’ve been busy falling in love with your good friend, dad didn’t seem like a good way to get yourself back into his good graces. 

So, instead of prepping for your interview, you passive-aggressively tended to the sink full of dishes, only for him to switch gears and gripe that he didn’t mean you had to do them then and there. 

Just another reason why you needed to start earning some money of your own so that you could find a small place and put some much needed distance between you and your father. 

When the doctor and owner of the small practice finally called you back—twenty minutes past your agreed upon time—your head was pounding. If you hadn’t been so desperate to land a job, you might’ve slipped out at the five minute mark, but as it stood, you needed to see this shitty interview through. 

For your sanity. 

For some privacy. 

For the potential to not have to sneak out every night just to see Joel. 

JOEL

It had been a long fucking day. 

Between the incessant ache in his lower back from yesterday’s job putting up drywall and the shipment of tile for his latest contract—a suburban couple’s renovation of their first home together—arriving cracked, he was desperate to get home and doze away on the couch with a cold beer. 

Sarah was off at her friend’s house for the night, which meant he had the night to himself—unless you were able to sneak over and offer him some much welcomed company for the night. 

But he wasn’t counting on that fact, not when your dad had been there to watch Sarah pack her overnight bag into Mrs. Jacobs’ silver minivan earlier that morning. 

It didn’t stop him from hoping, nonetheless. 

As he pulled his pickup into his driveway, Joel was surprised to find the exact person he’d been hoping to see sitting on the front step of his place. He hopped out of the truck with a newfound purpose and tried to tame the boyish grin creeping onto his face as he took you in. You looked more corporate than you usually did, a pair of slacks and a button-down blouse taking the place of your usual t-shirt and jeans, but you looked no less beautiful than you always did. A natural, effortless thing that had every nerve in his body alight with the need to get his hands on you. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, a small smile lifting one corner of that mouth he loved so much. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, scanning the cul de sac as he stepped up onto his porch. “Dressed to impress, I see.”

You huffed out a small laugh and rolled your eyes as you stood, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you in case anyone happened to be watching. A fact that he loathed with every bone in his body. 

“My key broke off in the front door,” you sighed, leaning against the wooden beam beside you. “My dad’s not going to be home until late tonight, and I didn’t feel like breaking in. Decided I’d slum it here until you got home.”

He stepped closer to you, his hand twitching with the urge to stroke his thumb over your cheek in hopes of turning your frown into one of those smiles he loved so much. “Need me to break in for ya?”

“You could,” you said, biting at your lip as you stared down at your nails. “Or we could go inside and you can help me forget about the shitty interview I just had.”

It was Joel’s turn to frown, despite the twitch he felt downstairs at the implication in your tone. “Didn’t get the job?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you scoffed. “I don’t want it, though. The doctor was a total dick. Made some joke about finally having someone pretty behind the desk to greet him in the morning. I’d rather be broke and unemployed than have to work with that bullshit.”

“Want me to kick his ass?” Joel asked, reveling in the laugh his words earned. 

“No.” You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his as the tip of your tongue slid out to wet your bottom lip. “I have better stuff in mind for you.”

Joel’s brown arched, a smirk lighting up his face. “Oh, yeah? And what might that be, darlin’?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

As soon as Joel shut and locked the door behind him, you were pressing him against the wall. 

Your lips found his ungracefully, but he didn’t seem to mind as he kissed you back with just as much unbridled need. It had been too long—three days now—since you’d gotten the chance to be truly alone with him. With Sarah at the house, the two of you had to be discreet and silent, and while it never hindered the pleasure you brought each other, it certainly dampened a bit of this passion you’d been yearning to feel. 

Joel groaned as he slipped his hands over your hips to squeeze your ass through your trousers, pressing you tighter to his body. You bit at his lower lip and let your own hands travel, one to the nape of his neck and one down to palm at the bulge imprisoned by his jeans. 

“Missed you all day, baby,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he guided you backwards towards the couch. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” you panted, straddling his lap as he sat down and pulled you with him. 

“Thought about the way you looked when you were ridin’ me a couple nights ago,” he said, nipping at your jawline. “How you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet. Fuck, I got hard just thinkin’ about the sounds you make. Been too goddamn long since I heard ‘em. You gonna let me hear ‘em today, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you moaned, grinding yourself against him as he started to unbutton your blouse, kissing each bit of skin he exposed along the way. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, lathing his tongue over the swell of your breast as it sat pushed up by your bra. He peeled your shirt off your body and tossed it across the room before settling his big, warm hands on your waist, smoothing his rough palms across your smooth skin. “Wanna hear every fuckin’ thing.” 

Your back arched as he lowered his mouth to your breast, kissing and nipping at you through the thin lace of your bra. With a skilled flick of his fingers behind your back, he had the bra unclasped and discarded on the floor along with your shirt, the cool air around you stiffening your nipples into sensitive peaks. He groaned as he palmed one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb stroking over the sensitive bud as he slowly lifted his eyes back to yours to watch your face crumple a bit with pleasure. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he whispered, shaking his head at you in reverence as he lowered his mouth to your nipple, kissing it softly. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, holding his head against your breast as he swirled and sucked at the bud before kissing his way over to the other. ”I need you inside me.”

Joel’s hands gripped you harder, pulling you closer. “Take me out and sit on it, then, honey. I ain’t stoppin’ what I’m doin’.” 

Your limbs felt heavy and clumsy as you dropped your hands to his lap, as if you were drunk off Joel’s voice alone. You fumbled with his belt and the button of his jeans, undoing both with little grace as you scrambled to access the hard thickness straining beneath its rigid denim confines. Joel, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped lavishing your sensitive nipples with attention, alternating from sucking to nibbling to flicking at them with the tip of his tongue, all while his big hands restlessly stroked up and down the planes of your back. 

“Stand up so I can take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the belt loops of your trousers. You obeyed immediately, letting him undo the button and slip your slacks and underwear off in one smooth motion before he shed himself of his own clothes, leaving him bare and beautiful in front of you. Joel was smiling as he tapped his lap with one hand and held your hip with the other. “Sit.” 

You let out a soft keening sound at the rough, inviting tone of his voice, obeying once again. Joel watched your face as you straddled his lap, his eyes round with reverence and lips parting at the feeling of your soft palm wrapping around his pulsing girth. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his eyes fell to watch your hand pump him. “You got any idea what you do t’me, baby? Any fuckin’ clue how good y’feel?”

You replied with a hiss of your own as you flicked the tip of him along your seam, paying special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves. “Do you?”

Joel smiled for a half-second before his face crumpled into something dark and needy and absolutely sinful as you lined him up at your entrance, sinking down just enough to have his fat head inside you. He groaned at the tightness there, and you sighed at the delicious stretch of him making himself at home in the most precious of places. 

“Always so tight,” he whispered, lifting his hands to your face as he pulled you down to him for a searing kiss. “So fuckin’ wet. Best fuckin’ pussy in the world.”

You smiled into the kiss and sank down further, relishing in the choked moan you tore from his chest. “And it belongs to you, Joel.”

“Shit,” he groaned, tossing his head back against the couch, giving you the perfect chance to press your lips against his pulse. Joel’s hands splayed across your hips, keeping you flush with his body for a moment while he gained his composure. “Tell me again.”

You grinded yourself against him, your clit rubbing against the patch of hair at his base and sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “My pussy’s all yours, Joel.”

He growled, lifting your hips just to drive his own forward, drilling in deep. “Again.”

You let out a cry, fingers leaving crescent moons in the meat of his shoulders as his head found that spot deep inside you with every rough thrust upwards. “You own me, Joel.”

“Own what?,” he growled, using your body as a toy as he plunged deep over and over and over. Your face was buried in the nook of his neck as you held onto his broad frame, breathing in the scent of sawdust and warm cologne and sweat—so masculine, so distinctly Joel. 

“You own my pussy,” you cried, meeting his thrusts in harsh bounces, the room filling with the lewd slap of your ass meeting his thighs. “You own every fucking part of me, baby.” 

Joel’s hand came down onto your ass with a sharp sting, the pain blending with pleasure and driving you closer to that delicious edge. “Good fuckin’ girl. This pussy’s all mine. You’re all fuckin’ mine, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck, yes!” You rode him without care of how you looked while doing it. It was animalistic and primal the way you needed him, the way your body reacted to even the slightest of touches. Joel shared that same inhibition, hands gripping and roaming and mouth spewing with filth. 

“Wanna carve my name into this fuckin’ pussy and make it mine forever. Put a fuckin’ baby in you,” he groaned, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear as the two of you worked in tandem to achieve pure bliss. His words had you clenching, even when you hadn’t expected to want or like them as much as you did. “That what you want, baby? Want me to fuck my cum nice and deep ‘til it takes?”

“Fuck, yes!” you cried, your walls squeezing him like a vice grip. “Wanna have your baby, Joel!”

He growled, using one hand at the base of your neck to pull your face from his shoulder so that he could look into your eyes. “So fuckin’ beautiful, honey. You’d look so goddamn pretty with my baby inside you.”

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you moaned, face wrecked with pleasure as you leaned back on his lap, your hands perched on his thighs for leverage. Joel growled at the change in position, at the sight of your body sprawled out on top of him, at the bounce of your breasts in his eyeline. 

“I’m gonna cum nice and deep,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he lowered his thumb to your clit, working it in perfect circles. “Gonna make you a mess and then clean it up with my tongue. S’that what you want?”

“Please,” you cried, too fucked out to say anything better. 

“Gonna taste us together ‘til you beg me to stop,” he said, his own voice now shaky and rough as he approached his release. “Fuck, baby. I need you t’cum for me. I’m too fuckin’ close.”

You didn’t need any more motivation, your body seizing up and crumbling on top of him with the weight of your climax. Joel gathered you in his arms and held you close to his chest, pressing kisses against your temple as he buried himself deep and let you have every last drop of his release. 

“Take it,” he murmured, fucking his cum deep into your pussy. “Take what’s yours, darlin’.”

“Jesus,” you sighed, circling your hips against his as your climax faded to a warm, tingling thing. ”You’re too fucking good at this.”

Joel laughed, soft and breathy, as he smoothed a hand up and down your back before letting it settle on your ass with a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I love the shit out of you, you know that?” 

You froze, not out of fear or panic, but just the sheer surprise of such a confession falling so casually from his lips. Joel seemed to realize it too, as his hand stilled in its ministrations across your heated skin. 

“We can pretend I didn’t say that, if y’want,” Joel said, sounding much too shy and insecure for your taste. 

You sat up enough to look at him, watching as he avoided your stare like a nervous little boy. 

“Look at me, you beautiful man.” He obliged, carefully lifting his eyes to meet yours. You held his face in your hands, guiding him to your lips for three gentle, loving pecks. “I don’t want to pretend. I…love you, too. Fuck, I think I’ve always loved you, Joel.”

Joel’s smile dawned again, washing away every trace of hesitation that lingered before. He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slow and languid as if he’d be content to do this for the rest of his life. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this…happy. This settled before. Just want you t’know that.”

“Neither have I,” you murmured, your lips refusing to move too far from his. 

JOEL

You stayed with him later than you probably should’ve. The afternoon light had faded into evening, but neither of you paid any mind to the passing of time. You fell asleep shortly after he fulfilled his promise of cleaning you up with his tongue, your face buried in the nook of his neck as he dozed with you on the sofa. 

He woke up before you, eager to take his time in watching you sleep beside him. It had become a favorite pastime of his in the short month the two of you had spent together, waking up before you just to watch you breathe. He’d never felt this way in any of his previous relationships, so enamored and in love with a person, even in their most base state. It had always been a sort of begrudging kind of love with his exes, as if there was a large part of his biology that rejected their company for one reason or the next. He mostly just felt out of place in their company, like living with a stranger or a roommate that he fucked every now and again. 

But there wasn’t a single part of him that felt that way about you. He loved every bit of you—the woman you showed him when you were awake, kind and thoughtful and determined, and the woman he held close when you were fast asleep, all soft curves and warm skin. Even Sarah seemed to accept you as a natural addition to their family, far more than she ever did with her own mother. That fact carried more weight than you knew, or perhaps you were keenly aware of the way they both felt for you and simply chose to accept it in stride. Either way, it was endearing. 

He was just about to wake you up to thank you for existing here with him—with them—in the best way he knew how when a series of hurried knocks sounded on his front door. He’d saw the headlights of your father’s SUV pull into the driveway next door, and given your absence at home, he had no doubt that he would’ve strolled over, worried as all hell. 

Joel gently coaxed you awake with a thumb brushing over your face, feeling a bit irritated that he had to interrupt your peace. Especially given the circumstance. 

“Your dad’s at the door, baby,” he said, his voice gentle but urging. You bolted upright at the news, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you scanned the room. “Go upstairs and I’ll send him back home.”

You muttered a sleepy okay, grabbed your clothes from the floor, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom while Joel threw on his own clothes and tried to look half-presentable. As if he hadn’t just spent the afternoon inside you. 

When things looked to be back in order, he finally marched to the door and opened it, revealing your disheveled looking father. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Have you seen my daughter?” he asked, breezing past Joel and into the half-lit living room. 

“No,” Joel lied, rubbing the back of his neck as he spotted your underwear halfway beneath the couch that you must’ve missed when fumbling for your clothes in the dark. “You wanna grab a couple beers and tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

Your father headed into the kitchen with a soft grunt, allowing Joel the opportunity to stuff your panties in his back pocket before taking a seat on the sofa. When he returned, he let out a sigh and settled into the recliner, combing a hand over his face. 

“She isn’t home,” he said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “She usually sends me a text when she’s gonna be out late.”

“She probably just forgot,” Joel said, his knee bouncing with anxiety. Lying had never come easy to him, but if there was any time to learn, it was now. “You tried textin’ her?”

“Yeah, nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me. A boyfriend, maybe. I’ve kept quiet about it, but I’ve heard her sneakin’ out in the dead of night. Her car always stays here, though, so she must be gettin’ picked up.” He fixed his attention on Joel. “You seen anything?”

Joel was quick to shake his head. A bit too quick. “No, I’m in bed early these days.”

“Well, keep an eye out if you can,” he said, ticking his jaw. “I’d like to know what she’s been up to. Makes no sense for her to hide things from me, but then again, it’s been a long time since we’ve been under the same roof like this.”

“She’s probably just settlin’ in, figurin’ things out,” Joel said, his fingers scratching at the label on his bottle. “No need to go and get yourself worked up over nothin’.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh, downing the last of his beer. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you hear anything.”

Joel stood to walk him to the door, only to watch as your father’s eyes landed on a familiar looking phone case laid face down on the coffee table. 

“That’s her phone,” he said, his eyes narrowing at the object before lifting to Joel’s. “What’s her phone doin’ here?”

Joel struggled to make up a lie, his lips parting and closing over and over. “I, uh…”

“Joel,” he said, his tone harsher than before. “What’s my daughter’s phone doing here?”

Your father stepped closer, squaring his shoulders as he sized up his newfound enemy. 

“I’m gonna give you two seconds to explain yourself before I go upstairs and take a look myself,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Listen—“

“Nope.” He shook his head, scoffing in anger as he turned to move towards the staircase. Joel rushed to block his path, setting a firm hand on his chest. “I suggest you move, Miller.”

“I suggest you don’t tell me what to do in my own house,” Joel said, his protective streak outweighing his anxiety. “You can either sit there and listen, or you can get the hell out. Either way, you ain’t goin’ upstairs.”

“You gonna stop me?” Your father stepped forward, daring Joel to make a move. He had half a mind to shove him back a step, but the sound of his bedroom door opening talked some much needed sense into him. 

“Dad, stop,” you pleaded, the sound breaking Joel’s heart. “I’ll be home in a second. We can talk about this in private.”

“There’s no way in hell this is happening,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to pace the living room. “You’re sneakin’ around with my daughter? And lyin’ to my face about it? For what, some hookup? Some sick fantasy of yours?”

“Dad!” You pushed past Joel to stand in front of him protectively. “It’s not a hookup or anything like that. Joel and I are together. We’re serious about each other.”

“He’s a decade older than you!” he shouted back, causing Joel to take the lead. 

“She’s a grown woman,” Joel said. “Goddamn near twenty-five. You don’t think she’s old enough to make her own decisions yet?” 

“She wasn’t twenty-five when you met her,” he returned. 

“And I didn’t act on anything all that time,” Joel said.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” Your father turned to you, and Joel fought the urge to tell him to wipe the murderous look off his face. 

“A month or so,” you said, meek and timid. “We were going to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “Joel was just sitting there lying to my face about you just needing time to settle in. All the while, he’s been the one you’ve been sneaking off with.”

“We were waiting until we knew what was happening—“

“Well that went to shit, didn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “You know what? You wanna sneak around and lie to me, you wanna play house with him, then you can stay here. I’m not having a liar sleep under my roof.”

“Dad!”

“No!” he shouted. “You didn’t care how this would hurt me before, you don’t get to cry about it now. I’m goin’ out. You’ve got an hour to get your shit and leave my house. And you—“ He turned his attention to Joel. “You’re never going to be welcomed under my roof again. You’re dead to me. I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Joel didn’t reply, simply clenching his jaw as he reached a hand out to welcome you into his side, your tears staining his t-shirt as you buried your face in his neck. 

“Fuckin’ sick,” your father said, stomping his way to the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

In the tense silence that followed, Joel wanted nothing more than to go over and teach your father a lesson on how not to speak to you, but he was too preoccupied with holding you as you shook with tears. 

“Baby,” he cooed, hugging you tight. “I���m so sorry. So fuckin’ sorry.”

“He was so…mean,” you sobbed, hugging him tight. “He’s never spoken to me like that. Like I wasn’t his daughter.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your back. “I hate him for makin’ you cry like this.”

“I can’t believe…can’t believe this is real,” you said, peering up to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I was so happy just a few minutes ago.” 

Joel cradled your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be alright. He’ll come around, and if he doesn’t…well, he can go fuck himself.”

You nodded, though no part of him thought you believed what he’d said. No, you’d be torn up over this for days. Weeks, even. But through it all, he’d be there. 

“Come on,” he said, holding your hand. “Let’s go get your things, and then we’ll come back, have a drink, and watch one of those romance movies you love so much until it hurts a little bit less, alright?”

You managed a soft, but broken smile and nodded. “Thank you for sticking up for me and being here. It’s more than most men would’ve done in your situation.”

“I love you,” he said, squeezing your hand. “That means I’m gonna always be here to stick up for you, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[what-even-is-thiss]

I feel like when it comes to the stardew valley spouses Sebastian would be the one I settle down with but Elliot is the one I think about at night.

He shines too brightly. He’s a little too loud. But he still makes my gay little heart jump the same way it did the first time. Every time.

But Sebastian is more stable. Sebastian loves you but can still have his own life separate from you. And he’s there. Quiet, but he’s there.

But Elliot alone in his cabin side eyes me every time I walk down to the beach. I meet his eyes a bit too long at festivals. We both know. We both know if one of us asked we would. But we won’t. It seems that he’s destined to be lonely and I am destined to be trapped. If not in my corporate job then there on that farm with that cozy safe husband and children, crops that need tending to, animals that need feeding.

Is anyone unhappy? No. Elliot has his modest success. He can live modestly off of his book sales. In time he grows old on that beach just as he feared, but it’s not so bad. He’s the town eccentric. He’s the local writer. He writes a new novel every year. A cheap little thing bought at an airport bookstore. A romance writer whose books are eaten and discarded within a week. And he’s happy.

And I sell my little artisan goods. Cheese and wine mostly these days. We put a little skull and crossbones on the wine bottles, just to be edgy. Just because we can. Children grow up in a stable and happy home with all the space in the world to run through the blueberry fields, their adoption papers framed on the wall, their slightly weird alternative dads taking them on motorcycle rides through the mountains. We’re quiet. We only get out on Fridays. Everyone knows us but we don’t hold hands at the store.

Elliot and I sit at the same table in the bar that Leah does. I know her slightly less than I know him. This town has become weirder. That’s good. We chat. Elliot is a messy drunk. Sometimes he gets a little too close to my face when he’s tipsy but he always stops himself. Everyone knows I wouldn’t stop him if he leaned in. Including my husband. We’ve never spoken about it but he’s not dumb. Everyone knows. Everyone also knows that nothing has happened. But it always could.

But Elliot doesn’t lean in. Maybe it’s the smell of dirt on me that breaks the image of me he has in his mind. Maybe it’s the public space. Maybe it’s Sebastian playing pool in the corner. Maybe if he was drunk in a private space everything would come apart. Both of our perfect on paper little lives.

Maybe if this were one of Elliot’s books we would run away together, abandon everything in the middle of the night. But neither of us would like that, really. Both of us are a one person at a time kind of guy. And we both know I made the right choice.

I still have dreams though. Of him and I on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. He cannot contain himself and kisses me in a fit of passion. Like a vision from another universe where I’m just as happy as I am now. A parallel mirror world where I never climbed onto the back of that motorcycle and ran down the hill to the beach instead, where everything lasted for more than just that one summer.

[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

[kentopedia]

˚₊‧꒰ა what is and what should never be — levi ackerman

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. you wake up with the man you've always loved, but the sky seems too blue and the world too safe. maybe it's just your imagination.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, sfw, written with f!reader in mind but no gendered terms used, domestic life, established relationship, angst, wc: 1.7k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. tbh this is nothing special, but i'm trying to wrap up some wips and organize myself for october lol

part of my summerween series !

“Is everything alright, love?” 

You glanced back over your shoulder, mug still warm in your palm, to see Levi’s brows pinched, his eyes tracing across your features. He was looking for signs of distress, though you smiled in return shaking your head.

“I’m just trying to remember if there's ever been a time I was this happy,” you said, explaining your uncharacteristic silence.

At that, Levi softened, his expression no longer tight, lips curling up at the corners. “I see,” he said, standing from his seat at the table, to come stand by you.

Levi walked behind you, his arm curling around your waist, as he pressed a gentle kiss between your shoulder-blades. He said nothing, but his hands were gentle as they traced small patterns down your sides, his nose brushing your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. 

You stared ahead, smiling wider, your heart pounding from pure joy. An unpreventable warmth spread across your face, and you sighed wistfully, gazing at the clouds in the startlingly blue sky. 

It was beautiful outside, a mild day, temperatures warm enough to laze around in the radiant light, but cool enough for a coat. The sun shone over the rolling fields beyond you, trees sprouting, flowers blooming in a garden around them. There was a small stream on the other side, one that curved beside your home, before fading out into the distance, bringing life to everything around it. 

Sometimes, it was hard to believe that this even was your life, the perfect landscape like something from a fairytale, a dream. To think that this had once been the territory of Titans — well, that seemed almost unbelievable. 

You’d built a life here with Levi, even if you couldn’t quite remember what events led into the next, how you'd gone from soldiers to a romantic marriage.

Fighting day after day tended to put gaps in your memory. The battles had worn thinly on you when you crawled into bed, exhausted and desperate to put the deaths out of your mind. 

It had been worth it, at the end of it all. 

You turned back to Levi, leaning forward to kiss him, smiling against his lips. Tea splashed between you, hot liquid burning through your sweater. But you didn’t mind, the taste of mint on Levi’s lips enough to distract you from the dampness on your clothes. 

“I love you,” he said, and though it wasn’t the first time, it squeezed your heart tightly, winding it up and stretching it out. He’d been all you'd ever wanted, this life had been all you ever wanted, and here it was, delivered to you with a perfect pretty bow. 

You could’ve cried, but instead, you curled your free hand around his cheek to kiss him harder. This time, you withheld an I love you, if only to show him with your actions. He appreciated that more, from time to time. Words could have very little meaning — even ones like that. 

Levi drew back, resting his forehead on your own, blue irises lighting up to match the sky. Even his eyes had changed from when you were younger. The once steely navy of his soldier days had turned peaceful, painted into him with watercolors. 

“You make me so happy,” you said, and a tear did slip from your eyes then, even if you didn’t know why. “I never want to lose you.” 

Levi's smile was just as wide, but there was something sad about it, something that shifted, turning inside out as he held you. “We don’t have to fight anymore,” he said, holding you closer. “We’re safe here.” 

“There might be another battle someday, Levi. A war. What if we get called back, or there’s Titans once again. I…” You trailed off, shaking your head as you breathed heavily. “I don’t want to go back to that.” 

Levi kissed your forehead, his fingers wiping the dampness off your cheeks. “You don’t have to. It can all be over if you want. Just stay here with me.” 

You pulled away from him, lips parting as you watched his face flash like a shadow. There was his old self again — the harder, rougher version of him, staring at you with blank emotion. It was still there, under everything, and the more you stared, the more it evolved. 

“I will,” you promised, but that sounded weak, a promise that was doomed to be broken. 

A pressure began on your chest, like your heart was pumping blood through you faster than your body could handle. You dug your nails into him tightly, swallowing over and over to dispel the pain.

But it came upon you fast, and you were caving in a matter of moments, toppling forward as you breathed heavily over your knees.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asked, rushing to your side, but you couldn’t focus. His fingers were cold, icicles scratching across your face. You made an attempt to lean away from him, but he was impossibly close, his breath ghosting across the bridge of your nose.

"I don't know," you said, but it was nothing more than a whisper, every syllable more breathy than the last.

Your vision turned white, a different light burning the back of your irises. Oxygen filled up your lungs — more than you needed. You thought they might burst, or float up out of your chest, soaked in the blood and remains of your insides.

Levi did nothing but stare at you, and when you tried to say his name again, nothing came out. At your side, your arms were weak, flopping around like bricks. You couldn't move.

You squeezed your eyes tight, crying out silently.

When you opened them once again, your Levi wasn't there at all. It was the old him, soaked in blood, wearing the emerald cape of the scouts' uniform. 

Levi’s eyes were still narrowed, dark as he scanned your body, tension draining from his shoulders. “You're alive,” he said, exhaling. "We weren't sure you were going to make it."

He looked over, gesturing another man forward, this one a doctor. There was a clipboard under his arm, some medicine in his hand.

The room was such a bright white you closed your eyes again, breathing in and out, easing your increasing anxiety. Even the light shuffling of the doctor's feet was enough to give you a splitting headache.

Something prodded at your temple, and you winced, a sharper pain taking to your head. Your eyes snapped back opened, glaring up at the doctor.

“Do you remember what happened? Who you are?” he asked.

For a moment, you didn’t. Then, memories came flooding back to you.

In the midst of battle, your gear had malfunctioned, and you’d been flung against a tree in an attempt to dodge the hands of a Titan. You remembered it reaching out to you, the pain when you flew hard against the trunk. Then, nothing. 

“I do,” you nodded, avoiding Levi’s eyes. You remembered the feeling of his lips on your skin, too. “I don’t know how I’m still alive.”

“You’re very lucky to be,” the doctor said, scanning through his notes. “Even luckier that none of your injuries seem to be permanent. You’ll have to stay here for a few more days, to make sure nothing else shows itself, now that you’re awake. Otherwise, you should be able to leave with only some bruises and a concussion. It's a miracle, really.” 

You nodded, but even that hurt. Your neck was stiff from all the sleeping. “Thank you,” you said, the words scratchy against your throat. 

The doctor left, leaving you and Levi alone. Warmth flooded your cheeks, the decade old love you'd had for him suffocating you.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Levi said, his words as neutral as they would be to any other soldier. 

You sighed, turning your head away from him. "You shouldn't have gone back for me. You could've died."

“Don’t say that,” he snapped. For once, you were surprised by the passion in his voice. “We’re both fine, and we can’t afford to lose anymore soldiers.” Levi exhaled, the small emotion that had leaked into his words fading away. “Besides. I've lost enough friends.” 

Normally, an unbearable heat would creep up on you when Levi called you a friend. It meant you were special, someone he trusted and kept close by. You were lucky to even be that.

Now, though, even your friendship was soured by your thoughts of the dream. A life where you were happy, where he loved you just as much as you’d always loved him. 

That’s all it was though, all it’d always been: a dream. Levi would never love you, and you’d always been a fool to think so. 

You forced a smile, exhaling a dark laugh. “Sorry. I just feel like shit. I think death might have been kinder.”

It would have been. Death would have been beautiful if it meant you got to spend eternity in Levi's arms, with kisses that felt like you were his whole world. 

“Maybe.” Levi said, skeptical. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore.”

You could hear the defeat in his words, something he didn’t let many others see. But you’d been there for Levi in some of his darker moments, too, and this was nothing special. That's what friends were for.

“Get some rest, okay?" he continued. "I’ll come back when I can.” 

You didn't know when that would be. A week, maybe. Levi was a busy man. 

“Okay." You conceded, hoping your disappointment wasn't evident. "Have a good night, Levi. I—”

Levi stopped and turned back around, waiting for you to finish your sentence. But you’d cut yourself off, horrified by how easily you’d almost let your secret slip. It had been years that you'd been holding back and I love you, and for the first time, you'd almost let it go.

You smiled tightly, the back of your throat burning. “I appreciate you always looking out for me. Thank you.” 

He nodded, and left without another word. 

The pain in your head migrated to your chest instead, and your heart squeezed painfully.

thank you so much for reading! ❤︎ this one was inspired by episode 2x20 of supernatural, with the same title <3

[avatar-anna]

Save a Horse...

2024 Masterlist

"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.

Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."

Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."

"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."

"Hm."

Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.

Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.

It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.

You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"

"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.

Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.

Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.

"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."

"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."

"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"

He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.

"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."

"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."

Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.

"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.

"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"

"Wh—What?"

Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."

What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"

"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."

"I—You—You snooped—"

"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."

You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"

"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."

You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."

"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"

"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."

Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.

Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.

"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"

His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"

Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"

"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."

You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."

"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.

Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."

Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."

Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.

"The book, baby. Go on."

Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.

Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.

"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"

"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.

"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.

"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."

"But—Ow!"

Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.

"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.

When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.

You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"

"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."

Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."

"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."

Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.

"Show me then, baby."

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tressym can be Fickle

WORDS: 692 RATING: G PAIRING: Gale x Tav SUMMARY: based on a very real arguement between my husband & I on who our cat likes more.

It had been a long, arduous, grueling day at the academy.

Though Gale loved his new role as a professor and educator, teaching the young minds of witches & wizards all across Faerun to harness their magic, induction week was the worst. He felt his life was in less peril fighting the Elder Brain or any of their other enemies & cohorts along the Sword Coast than he was now. Testing the new inductees to file them accordingly to their skill. ‘Skill’ being a very loose word tossed around this week.

He returned home that evening with a heavy sigh through the door, an even heavier thud of his satchel filled with books, and a desperate need to be tended to by his spouse. The whole day had been about soothing the egos, feelings, and on occasion literal wounds of new students that Gale thought he deserved some tending to now.

“Tav?” He called out as he put his cloak away. Usually, they greeted him at the door. Or at least acknowledged him when he came home. Curious, Gale walked through the house to try and find them. His search not long as he came upon Tav in the living room. On the couch by a low fire, with Tara on their lap. “Well….don’t you two look cozy.”

“Hmm, we rather are Mr. Dekarios.” Tara agreed. “Or at least we were, until someone started shouting.”

“Apologies for shouting in my own house.” Gale snipped at Tara. Taking his own plush armchair across from them. “Since when did you become a lap cat? And, before you get too ruffled under the feathers, it’s a figure of speech.”

Tara hummed. Seeming to debate about not letting it go but was perhaps indeed to comfortable to make a fuss. “Very recently I suppose. I never had an interest until now.” The tressym purred with her eyes closed as she tilted her head up towards Tav and her head scratches.

“You never took an interest with me.” Gale said with a deep frown.

“You do not have nails, Mr. Dekarios.”

The wizard growled and stood up. Unable to watch his dearest friend and lover betray him like this in front of his own eyes. It was still early for dinner but he stalked off towards the kitchen to focus his frustrations on what to eat.

A few moments later, Tav came in. Looking confused on why he was so upset. “Sorry.” He apologized quickly. “It’s just been a long day. And I am glad that you and Tara are getting along now. Guess I’m being….overly sensitive at being shut out. Tressym can be fickle, but I’ve never known Tara to change her mind about anyone. Again, not that I’m not pleased you two are getting along. I just never thought I would suddenly be second in her estimation.”

“Suddenly second? Please Mr. Dekarios.” The couple turned to see Tara trot in. Seeming interested in their conversation. “I wouldn’t say that you were suddenly second. Not given my high esteem of your mother. A better estimate is which one of you is second on the day, and who is third.”

“Really Tara? Kick a man while he’s down??”

“But, I’m a reasonable creature. Perhaps my estimations can be over swayed. Perhaps with a bit of chicken? Fried pigeons if you have any?”

“So a creature of reason but not honor, eh?” Gale stated, with a wave of his hand as if he wish to brush away this whole conversation.

Before he could leave, Tav wrapped their arms around his waist. Pulling him close. The smell of their hair in his nose. Something like ‘you’ll always be number 1 to me’ muffled into his chest, which causes him to smile and hold them back.

They tell Gale to go upstairs and relax. Take a bath if he liked, while they made dinner. That sounded heavenly, so he did just that.

When he came back down, he was not amused by the roast chicken on his plate. Nor the grinning little tressym in the corner, licking her chops like she’d just swallowed a canary. Or, perhaps, her bribery chicken.

[rileyslibrary]

Hi, this might be a strange request, but could you please do some sort of character analysis, or maybe tell some of your headcanons for the 141 characters??

I’ve been trying to find some, but everything I find is either weirdly out of character or just some sort of weird projection onto the characters 😭

Not strange at all, anon! It just occurred to me that, for a blog dedicated to Ghost, I’ve never done something like this. Also, I understand what you mean, but it’s also important to remember that headcanons are extremely subjective. Maybe the same applies to my case, and someone also finds my headcanons out of character; who knows?

Please note that I can’t say much about the other boys since I’ve only focused on Ghost, so here are some of my headcanons (i.e. that’s how I personally imagine Ghost):

He’s your average, ordinary guy on the outside. Sure, he is stereotypically attractive (tall, beefy, with a deep voice), but so are a billion other people in this world. There’s nothing extraordinary about him, which is precisely what makes him so intriguing.

I like to imagine his personality similarly to how he wears his uniform—layer, under layer, under layer. You want to peel him like an onion; uncover what lies beneath the surface.

He’s extremely pragmatic and values function over form. It doesn’t matter if something looks bad/ugly/weird as long as it gets the job done. If it works, it works.

Moderation gives him a sense of discipline. He wants to control everything that’s within his ability to do so—managing what food he puts in his body, regulating his alcohol intake, handling finances, and even carefully choosing his words. It helps him maintain his sanity, knowing he has control over his life, especially considering what he went through.

He’s also incredibly efficient. He doesn’t waste time on things that aren’t important or beyond his control.

He’s not a gym rat (he doesn’t regard it as a second home), but he’s definitely a regular. The gym owners are familiar with him, though their interactions are brief—maybe they exchanged a few words to renew his membership in the past, but that’s about it.

He tends to stick to the free-weight section at the gym. If it’s crowded, he’ll put on his headphones to tune everything out, but if it’s quiet, he doesn’t bother. While he doesn’t use the machines often, he’ll turn to them occasionally, particularly when he needs more controlled movement.

Warming up before exercising is particularly important to him, and he takes his time to stretch afterwards, usually in an isolated corner of the gym. He never skips leg day.

He is not a flirt. Usually, it’s others who pursue him rather than the other way around. It’s almost like he has it too easy in that department. He doesn’t have to make much effort—he simply goes about his business (occasionally checking his surroundings for potential dangers,) and suddenly, people gravitate towards him. He’s not a fan of this attention but keeps it to himself.

He engages in a flirtatious exchange almost every day with the elderly lady who manages the convenience store in his neighbourhood, though. He often compliments her on her hair and how young she looks and sometimes jokes that if her late husband were still around, he’d have some competition. She, in return, offers him freebies, which he politely declines. However, he sometimes accepts these gestures in exchange for lending a hand with tasks around the store.

His apartment is modest since he travels a lot, yet he considers it his personal haven when he returns to it. He deliberately keeps it free of any traces of his alternate identity. There’s a family photo framed somewhere. Even his dad included. Maybe he considered cutting him out of the picture but decided against it. He wants to be reminded of both the positive and negative experiences that influence his decisions and actions.

He likes to make his own jokes. They mostly come to him when he does something mundane, like cooking, showering, or watching TV. He doesn’t take offence if others don’t laugh at his jokes, though. He simply views them as idiots or lacking a sense of humour.

He opts for public transport only when needed, like during heavy traffic, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He keeps his back against the wall and doesn’t wear headphones since he wants to be aware of his surroundings.

He breaks fights if he stumbles upon them late at night and calls the police. When the officers arrive, he is the first to talk to them and usually scolds them for not getting there faster.

I don’t think he wears his mask when he’s out and about. In my mind, Simon Riley is different from Ghost. If someone manages to connect the dots, he’ll make sure it’s the last time they do so. For him, good people don’t know who Ghost is. Only bad people do.

He wants to extend his sleeve tattoo further up his arm but struggles to find the time to schedule an appointment with his tattoo artist. Yes, he has a trusted tattoo artist.

[pendragonsclotpole]

help, i just got slapped in the face with the existence of WILL. be still my beating heart as i write an essay on this man, will of ealdor

firstly, i adore the silent and implicit trust hidden in the first joke that introduces will’s character. like merlin’s been aware his whole life that if his secret is ever found out, he will be hunted down and persecuted, but here comes will with a jab that they both inherently understand is a joke in the macabre style only true friends can lovingly master. the smile they share almost immediately gives me ned stark and robert baratheon meeting again in the courtyard of winterfell in season one of got. there’s also something so normal in their interaction that speaks of a familiarity borne from their equal status and years of friendship. i know merlin’s friends in camelot tend to skew to the non-royal/non-noble, but when you tally it up, those closest to merlin often hold some title that’s greater than merlin’s role as arthur’s servant. gwaine is a knight implied to be of noble blood; lancelot, percival, and elyan are also knighted and esteemed members of arthur’s court; gwen is the lady morgana’s maid and close companion long before she is ever queen; gaius is a physician and long time member of camelot’s court; morgana before her betrayal is literally uther’s ward. i feel like when placed among them all, merlin has a tendency to fade into the background offscreen. obviously the audience knows how important merlin is to the overall story given how much of the storyline focuses on him, and the characters regularly acknowledge merlin’s importance to them or arthur, but all of them still regard merlin as merlin the servant from camelot and few of them are privy to the plots we as the audience see firsthand. and even when they acknowledge him for his merits, his role as arthur’s close friend and confidante takes precedence. look at leon’s reaction in the later seasons when merlin is bewitched by morgana. merlin literally makes a comment about plotting to kill arthur and leon barely even blinks before quipping back, “driving you mad isn’t he?” or something along those lines. except for a few instances with even fewer characters, they never get a chance to know him as merlin the sorcerer from ealdor.

will does! and more than that, he got to know merlin as he is without arthur. we all hype up their status as magical soulmates but damn if i wasnt living for how jealous of arthur will seemed to be in this episode. call me crazy, but it makes me desperately headcanon a realistic past in ealdor for merlin, full of hardship and strife, but never without it’s moments of happiness. furthermore, will’s lone appearance in season one shines some real light on the unfairness of the fate that has been bestowed on meelin. the moment that will points out why he’s been so obstinate with arthur really strikes a deep chord. sure it could be just jealousy, but more compellingly, i choose to read it as a deep sense of care for merlin. everyone merlin has met within camelot, (or reunited with in the case of his own mother) has continually pushed him closer and closer to arthur. will presents a crucial exception. he knows exactly who merlin was before camelot, and who merlin is completely separate from arthur.

will is staunchly in merlin’s corner, and that position allows him to identify a key characteristic of merlin’s series’ long arc: his complete devotion to arthur. will even points it out himself: merlin could singlehandedly defend their home if he just used the full extent of his power. merlin doesn’t, and actively chooses not to because of his desire to stay close to arthur. it’s such a small moment, but i think it demonstrates how much of merlin’s decisions become motivated by his desire to stay close to arthur and to always put arthur first, even at a detrimental cost to himself. merlin understands and readily accepts arthur as his destiny, but this acceptance does not come about independently, instantly, or of merlin’s own volition. it does so eventually, but initially merlin sticks by arthur’s side because of the encouragement of everyone around him. “arthur needs you, merlin” or “arthur is your destiny, merlin” or “arthur is a good man, merlin. he has the potential to be a great king, he just needs the right people, merlin.” its codependent as hell.

sure, merlin originally does not tell arthur about his magic because they do not know each other and as far as merlin knows revealing his magic would lead to his death, but eventually the reasoning changes and becomes so focused on doing what’s best for arthur. merlin can’t tell arthur because then arthur would have to kill him and then who would look after arthur or ensure his fate? merlin can’t tell arthur because if arthur chooses to defy uther’s law, merlin is then forcing arthur to turn against his father and how could he look after arthur then? merlin can’t tell arthur because another betrayal from magic would ruin everything and truthfully, he wonders how would arthur react? merlin comes to fear what his magic might do to arthur and what it’s reveal might mean for his place in camelot more than the laws of camelot and their verdicts.

by this logic, merlin is a magical solar system orbiting entirely around the celestial body known as arthur pendragon. eventually merlin cared more about his relationship with arthur and what arthur thought about him than his own life. in retrospect, it’s so sad that will died so early on, because it strips merlin of a person solely in his corner. will’s death is the first in the series’ long pattern of loss that merlin endures and that eventually comes to define him because people either find out about his magic and their knowledge is directly tested against his loyalty to arthur, or he cannot allow them to know about his magic because it will unravel his relationship with arthur.

will, freya, balinor, morgana, mordred, arthur.

also the fact that will covered for merlin’s use of magic in his last moments just adds to the tragedy AND the growing pile of moments merlin could have told arthur about his magic but didnt. and also the fact that will literally died to save arthur. like tell me that just doesn’t prove my point. tell me. will never stood a chance. tell me every aspect of merlin’s life does not get consumed by arthur pendragon.

i’m all for merthur being soulmates, but god the original series is rife with the unbalanced mess of merlin being wholeheartedly aware of arthur’s great potential and destiny leading to some intense devotion and faith that yes, arthur earns and pays back in full measure but can never fully reciprocate because he just does not know anything. by the triple goddess, it can get so toxic. i wish will had lived if just for that. and like the jealousy arthur gets whenever merlin has other people. because i 100% live for possessive arthur and protective merlin dynamics.

[ad-caelestia]

i've spent a lot of time saying "here's what you could do" as a witch versus "here is what i actually do" as a witch, so let's go.

as much as i try to stir my coffee in one direction or another, it always ends up counter-clockwise - instead of seeing it as a mistake, i just work around it by thinking of it like, i'm banishing (counter-clockwise) negativity from my day versus attracting (clockwise) positivity.

i tend to use colors that align with planets versus other folkloric associations - instead of a green candle for money, i'll use a blue one because blue is associated with jupiter which is associated with wealth and good fortune. lucky for me, all the other planets have colors that align appropriately so i don't have to think about those as much (sun - gold, moon - silver, mercury - ehhhhh a mix of like, yellow/violet/indigo, venus - baby pink/mint, mars - red/rust, etc etc.).

i have a money bowl that i redo on the first of every month and i set a cinnamon stick above my front door for prosperity - i have a tiny little angel of a bunny whose health means more to me than the ritualistic act of blowing cinnamon into your home from outside the front door.

my "grimoire" or book of shadows or WHATEVER you wanna call it lives on my computer via onenote and is also scattered through many many notebooks i have collected over the years - if i'm being honest, i am way too picky about my handwriting and messing things up when i am writing in pen that i would just rather keep it somewhere i can type and alt+f to get where i need to go.

my main altar lives on a pretty gold and faux marble bookshelf but honestly, my whole house is my altar - there are sacred spaces at every corner if you know what to look for.

if i want something for my craft, i try to repurpose old things or thrift for them - you'd be amazed what you can do with some of the most basic things (i found my money bowl, which is a crystal dish, at the thrift store for 99 cents); the dollar 25 tree is also a good spot to shop for cheap trinkets.

much of my craft is muscle memory, which has come from YEARS of practice - if i'm cooking and need to use like, basil for example (luck, money, protection), i just kind of already know what it's "good for" and keep that in the front of my mind while i'm cooking so the intent doesn't get buried.

i really REALLY prefer to make my own stuff but that's not always feasible - i really thought the other day that i could just start making candles for myself and had to put that thought on HOLD because let's be real, i'm not doing all that. instead, i will continue to use all the chime candles i have collected over the years instead of immediately going out to find something new.

cleansing ritual who? every time i mop my floor or clean the baseboards or wipe down the counter, i'm cleansing my space. i very much believe that mundane cleaning can be equally as magical and therapeutic if the intent is there.

same thing with literally any other magical thing i do these days: i won't go digging for new items to serve me and my spellwork, i will just use what i already have.

doing spells when the opportunity presents itself versus days of planning - i got a new body wash the other day whose main ingredient and scent is rose so i figured i could use it for a glamour at some point; needed some cinnamon the other day for pancakes and stashed some away for use as a catalyst later on; stuck a bay leaf in my pasta sauce while cooking and made a little wish beforehand.

tethers. everywhere. this one's a bit personal for me but generally speaking, i like to tie energy to a physical object and store it for later use.

i have never buried anything in my yard for any reason - i usually just stick it in a box if the spell isn't finished, cleanse and reuse, or discard all together after thanking it for its assistance.

i swear i have a mean tarot deck and a nice one so i tend to be biased and choose accordingly. 🙃

i also have two pendulums i don't use and a set of blue goldstone runes that i have had for 8 years but don't touch anymore. let that be a gentle reminder that you don't have to do all the things, i promise.

anyway, those are some things about my craft ok bye

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

CONGRADULATIONS ON THE 100 FOLLOWERS!!!! Can I request Idia with the stargazing prompt? Can it please be romantic and fluffy? This event is so fun! I hope you have a wonderful day!!☆彡♡ :)

Stargazing; Idia Shroud

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Word Count; 700+

AN; Thank you, Sofia! I hope you enjoy the fluffy Idia! He deserves to not always be a wet cat (affectionate) As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The heat of the day was finally gone. Dew covered the grass. Crickets chirped in the undergrowth. And above you were millions of stars, and visible galaxies and nebulas, not obstructed by decades of light pollution. It was beautiful. 

Sitting beside you on the blanket that was spread out to provide a somewhat comfy barrier between you and the ground, was Idia. He had the hood of his sweater tied on tight, as so to hide the fact that his hair was nearly neon pink, and a dead giveaway of how he was feeling. And even though he was out of his comfort zone, he wanted to join you. And he was happy that he did. Yes, he felt nervous, but it wasn’t just because he was out in public — it was because this was a date, an official date. And while the two of you sitting in his room and playing games or watching shows were technically dates, this was the first public one.

“Hey, Idia,” you tugged at his sleeve, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Do you have a favourite constellation? A planet?”

He cleared his throat and hesitantly held your hand in his. His hand shaking the slightest bit. “Not really,” he said quietly looking up to the sky. Well, his head was pointed up, but he wasn’t looking at the countless stars. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye. “And you?”

You hummed, looking up at the unfamiliar sky. “Pluto. It’s a planet from… from back home.”

Idia gently slipped his hand into yours and squeezed it. “I-if you want, you can talk about it,” he internally cringed. He hadn’t stuttered like that since he had truly started feeling comfortable around you.

You squeezed his hand back and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Well, it used to be a planet but then got demoted to a dwarf planet. Which is kind of ironic, seeing that it’s named after the Roman god of the underworld.” You sigh and turn to Idia, whose hood had slipped down, revealing his hair. It was a lovely shade of pastel pink, and it was the entirety of his hair, not just the tips. It cast the both of you in a soft rose light. “... a person people tend to underestimate and judge.”

Idia clamoured to get the hood over his head, but he was stopped by your hand, which gently placed the hood down. Why are they looking at me like I’m the milk bread protag in some cheesy shounen?! He was in his own head, but all of that went away when he felt your hand cup his face.

Idia was similar to Pluto, and not just in the themes of relating to the god of the underworld. For so long, people only saw them as unassuming. But when you get closer, then you can appreciate the beauty and tiny details. Someone that you would stand next to and defend at all costs, even when the rest of the world may say that you shouldn’t, that you should just let it be as is.

“I love you,” you whisper, looking into his gold eyes.

That was the first time you had said that, well, said it out loud. Maybe it was the fact that Idia did something out of his comfort zone for you, maybe it was the setting, or maybe it was something else entirely.

You place your forehead against his. “I love you, Idia Shroud,” you say again, still looking into his eyes.

If Idia’s hair were not already as bright and pink as it could go, it would have gotten brighter, but it was as bright as the sun. But his face was now warm, and he was holding eye contact; even though he wanted to hide. “I-I,” he shut his mouth, took in a deep breath and centred himself. He didn’t want his first time saying the phrase to be stuttered. He wanted it to be perfect. I can do this. “I love you too.”

Shyly, he placed a kiss on your cheek and held eye contact for a few moments before hiding back in his hood. He swore that you were more stunning than all the stars that glittered above.

[spidernuggets]

hi hiii love ur stuff, may i req hcs about jason dating a super femme girly girl, like wears mKeup, wears bows in her hair, gets her nails done n stuff etc? Also being a civillian, im ngl i feel like he’d be super protective, but i just think it would be so cute and he’d be the scary gaurd dog bf lmaoo

been waiting for a request forEVAH

Jason Todd x GirlyFem!Reader HCs

I feel like he'd date a very girly girl who is a hoarder and does not keep things in place. Like you have a shit ton of different types of mascara, concealer, pink eyeshadow. And when Jaspn mentions why you have so much pink eyeshadow, you claim that it's one shade for different occasions.

You also have a huge collection of accessories

Hair accessories, rings, bracelets, earrings

And with all these collections, you tend to lose them all.

"Jason!! Where's my pink bow!!" "You mean this one?" "Jason- No! That's Flamingo pink! I'm looking for Lemonade pink!"

He would help you choose what nail design to pick from when you get your nail done. You like your nails a little longer than average, but Jason's worried that they would easily break, bht you assure him that you're used to them.

In the end, he chooses red and pink nails (to have your nails match with his colour too 🤭🤭), with white pearls and heart charms.

You tell him he can come back later because you'd think that he would hate to wait around for your nails to get done. But Jason is an absolute sucker for you. You can have like a 5 hour nail appointment and he'd still wait with you.

You like wearing short skirts, and you always wear shorts underneath just in case, but Jason is so paranoid. He doesn't want others to look at you. He always thinks he's overreacting, but that doesn't stop him from walking close behind you while the two of you are out.

Even though you have so many accessories, every birthday, anniversary, Christmas, and such, Jason would always gift you with a more expensive piece of jewellery. Like for your anniversary, Jason gifted you a Swarovski necklace that had pink roses around it. And you never take it off unless you're showering our plan to head out in a crowded place and you'd be scared of losing it.

I think girly reader would wear very graphic makeup. Like pink hearts and white sparkles everywhere or butterfly wings on the outer corner of your eyes. When you're unsure of a makeup look you wanna do, you'd ask Jason to be your model. He'd groan and let you try your makeup on him, but he makes you swear you won't tell any of his siblings.

And when your face lights up, thinking that the makeup look on him was perfect, you rush out to do it on yourself, and he thinks if your face looks like that every time you just put makeup on him, then it's worth it.

Sometimes, when you go clubbing with your friends, you'd assure Jason that you'd be fine on your own, but the both of you have a worried feeling in your guts. So when you leave, you're kind of hoping Jason is following you. And obviously he is.

So when some big, strange, older man comes to try to feel you up, you shove him away, telling him you have a boyfriend. But him being stronger than you, he continues to push.

Luckily, your bigger and stronger boyfriend comes to help you, reminding the weirdo that you have a boyfriend. Jason doesn't need to say mire because the man is running away like a scared dog.

Your friends swoon over Jason, but you don't need to worry about being jealous because you already know how much Jason is devoted to you.

Since he's already there with you, why not enjoy yourself with him while you're both at the club?

You'd ask Jason if you can have matching nails with him. It didn't need to be acrylic nails. You just wanted the colours to match . And unfortunately for Jason, he could never say no to you.

So he glares at his siblings, especially his brothers, when they try to question his choices of colours painted on his nails.

Whenever the two of you are together at home, watching a movie or something, he loves to have you sit on his lap, especially when you're wearing a skirt, wink wink.

You try to match outfits with him without him knowing. He noticed, of course. So he's wearing his iconic brown leather jacket, you're wearing your light pink leather jacket.

You'd teach Jason how to style hair, so every now and again, you'd ask him to do your hair for you, obviously decorating it with a bow.

Eventually, when Jason tells you about his alter ego, Red Hood, you think he's the coolest and bravest man alive, in comparison to Jason's initial idea of how you'd react. He'd think that you'd drop him, leaving him on his own.

But when you meet some of Jason's female friends and colleagues, you get jealous that they're more skilled, brave, and closer to Jason's occupation than you'd ever be. Especially when you find out that some of them, like Rose Wilson and Artemis Grace, used to have some sort of romantic relationship with him.

So, for the first time in a while, you start to doubt your position in your relationship. You start wearing darker clothes, darker eyeshadow. Hell, you stopped wearing bows for a while!!

Jason quickly notices this and asks worryingly why the drastic change in appearance.

And when you confess it's to be similar to his exes, he takes the black leather jacket off you, takes a bow laying nearby (there's always at least one or two bows lying around wherever you are) and places it in you hair, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

He assures you that he doesn't need you to be or look like them.

Because it was you who he fell in love with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This turned into a half oneshot for a hot second.

[willalove75]

would you write alci breastfeeding y/n after an exhausting day? something cuter

Absolutely! Thanks so much for the request!💕

Warnings: Breastfeeding (I guess it needs a warning? Idk.)

A/n: This is my first time writing something like this so go easy on me😅😂 ALSO I feel like it's been a HOT minute since I've done a Lady D ask! I've been super slacking lolzzzz sorry💕

Today sucked to say the least. You were helping Alcina with some of her tasks to ease her burden. Normally you don't have a tough time with the things she asks you to do, most of the time you actually enjoy helping her; being able to organize files, help her with paperwork, running errands. But today you were tasked with speaking with the mayor about current events in the village. As one of the four Lords, it was Alcina's responsibility to keep an eye on and maintain a healthy relationship with the village and the village mayor. You had accompanied Alcina to these meetings enough times where Alcina felt you were ready to conduct it on your own. Of course you were nervous, but you felt ready.

The ride there was uncomfortable - uncomfortable being an understatement. Over the winter the roads have deteriorated greatly and haven't been tended to so they were uneven and filled with potholes. You made sure to make note of that and make sure the mayor was aware of the situation and knows he needs to fix it.

It's not that you were dreading this meeting, but the mayor was known for being a bastard. Part of the reason that Alcina always attended these meetings was because of his notorious attitude but he always acted on his best behavior around Alcina - or else he'd run the very real and serious risk of losing a limb, or worse.

When you finally arrived in the village the people walking around slowed and carefully eyed the carriage, expecting Lady Dimitrescu to step out of it. When you stepped out alone most of the villagers went back to whatever they were doing. A few brave - or stupid - villagers decided to voice their opinions of you since the Lady wasn't around. Calling you a traitor or the demon's whore or any other colorful names they could come up with. You ignored them and made your way into the village hall where the mayor's office was.

The meeting sucked, badly. The moment the mayor realized you were alone he was the king of bastards once more. He spoke down to you the entire time, even after reminding him that everything that is said and how it was said at this meeting would be reported back to Lady Dimitrescu. The man was dumber than you thought, since the threat of Lady Dimitrescu wasn't in his immediate vicinity, there might as well be no threat at all.

Everything you brought up to him was mocked. Even things that were seriously wrong with the village he didn't take seriously. The mayor wasn't a big man, but he was definitely taller and bigger than you. Something he used to his advantage when you threatened him with the wrath of your Lady. He practically backed you into a corner while he shouted at you and threatened to put his hands on you. He even made a comment about the kind of lover you must be if you were able to satisfy the Lady and how he would like a taste for himself. It took everything in you to not show fear or cry. No tears fell but you felt them welling up in your eyes and the fear might as well have been radiating off of you as he invaded your space.

After that you gathered your things, thanked him for his time, told him you would be reporting everything back to the Lady and tried your best to keep yourself together until you got into the carriage.

You wanted to stop by one of the shops and pick up Alcina and the girls something and grab something to eat but you were too distraught. The moment the carriage door closed the tears started falling and you knocked on the wall three times to signal the driver to head back to the castle.

The ride home was arguably worse than the ride there. Not only was it just as bumpy as the ride there, but you cried for more than half of the time it took you to get home.

The gates of the castle finally came into view and you've never felt such relief. The carriage barely came to a stop when you jumped out of it - not bothering to wait for the driver to open the door for you.

You were exhausted, angry and still rattled by everything that happened with the mayor. All you wanted was Alcina. You needed her to comfort you, make you feel better, hold you and give you kisses and make all of the bad feelings go away. You needed her to care for you and you desperately hoped she wasn't too busy because it was something you needed now more than ever.

"Good evening." The head maid said as you entered the castle. "How was your trip?"

"It sucked. Do you know where Alcina is?"

"I believe she's in her chambers, she received a phone call."

"Thank you."

You beeline it upstairs to your shared chambers and enter the room, quickly closing the door behind you.

Alcina was sitting at her vanity with the phone receiver to her ear. When she heard the door open she looked in it's direction, when she realized it was you you saw her begin to smile. The moment she realized your distressed state her smile quickly faded and she had a look of concern in her eyes. She turns back towards the mirror and her posture stiffens.

"Yes Mother Miranda, I will keep you informed. I'm sorry Mother Miranda but something came up and I must be going. I understand, I apologize for cutting our incredibly important conversation short but I believe there's a trespasser in the castle I must see to. Thank you Mother Miranda. I will. Goodbye." She hangs up and turns back towards you. "Draga mea, what's wrong? What happened?" Her eyes were wide with worry and you couldn't hold back your tears anymore. You run towards her and she lifts you into her arms and cradles the back of your head. "What happened? Are you hurt? Who did this to you?" You hear the concern in her voice and bury your face into her neck.

"I'm not hurt." You said.

"Who upset you so my love? Did something happen in the village?" You shake your head no. "Please, iubirea mea, tell me what happened."

"The mayor is such a fucking asshole." You cry into her.

"What did he do?" She asks, her voice cold. "Did he hurt you? Did that filthy man thing lay his disgusting hands on you?"

"No." You begin recounting what happened from the moment you left the castle to the moment you left the village hall practically in tears. As you tell her what happened in the mayors office her grip around you tightens. When you tell her that he backed you into a corner and threatened you, that he said that he wanted a taste of you for himself Alcina was shaking with anger.

"That bastard!! How DARE he. How dare he threaten you in such a manner. That man will pay for what he's done." You can feel her heartbeat going berserk inside of her chest and her breath becoming labored. "Don't worry draga, I am going down there right this second and he will regret-"

"No, please don't. Please don't leave." You say as you cry and cling to her dress.

"Draga he has to pay for what he's done-"

"I know but please just stay with me right now. Please. I need you. I don't want to be alone. I just want you right now."

Your confession, your desperate plea for Alcina to stay with you washes over her like a warm summer breeze. The anger that's radiating off of her right now begins to diminish and she takes a deep breath and holds you tight.

"Okay draga. He will be dealt with first thing tomorrow morning. I won't leave you iubirea mea, I promise." She kisses your temple and her lips linger on your skin for a few moments. "What do you need me to do, draga?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to care for you? How about a bath and some warm pajamas?" You nod your head into her neck and she smiles and stands with you in her arms.

Alcina prepares a bath and once the water is warm and the tub is full she undresses you and places you in the tub. She washes your hair, massaging your scalp as she rubs the shampoo in and combs through your hair with care after she puts the conditioner in. She washes your body with your favorite soaps from her collection she knows you love. After your bath she wraps you in a giant fluffy towel, dries you off and dresses you in your favorite pajamas.

As she's caring for you, Alcina can feel her breasts starting to fill and then leak a little. The care she's giving you is something that comes so natural to her and her regenerative properties cause her to produce milk every time she acts maternally - towards anyone.

It was something she kept to herself until you found out about it on accident. When she breastfed you for the first time she felt a relief, both physical and emotional. It felt right to her, being able to nurture you in such a way that was so intimate but not sexually. And the physical relief if brought to her breasts could have made her cry. If she went too long without expelling the milk her breasts would ache something terrible.

She did her best to ignore the fullness in her chest as she laid you on her chest and rubbed circles across your back in bed.

Alcina definitely helped you relax, you were way less distraught and upset than you were when you first got back. Now you were just exhausted.

"Is there anything else you need draga mea?" She asks.

You shake your head no and let out a sigh as you melt into her embrace. Just as you feel yourself falling asleep a loud growl rips through your stomach and you suddenly realize how hungry you are.

"Draga did you have dinner?"

"No, I forgot. I was gonna stop and eat something in the village but I was so upset I just wanted to come home."

"Oh draga, let me have a maid bring you something."

"That's okay, I'm not in the mood for eating." You say as your stomach grumbles again.

"Clearly you are hungry, draga mea. You have to eat something." You shrug your shoulders and nuzzle into her neck. The pressure in Alcina's breasts increases at the action and she shifts to make herself more comfortable. She's breastfed you before, but for some reason she's still feels embarrassed each time she suggests it. Even though she knows that it would both feed you and bring you extra comfort. "What if - if you're not up for a proper dinner, do you want me to feed you?"

You can hear the hesitation in her voice, you know how sensitive of a topic this is for her but you love that she suggests it regardless of her hesitation. Nodding your head yes, Alcina kisses you on the head and sits you up in her lap. She reaches behind her back and pulls down the zipper of her dress and slides her arms out of the sleeves. After the fabric pools around her waist she reaches behind her back once more and unclips her bra. She removes her bra and you're face-to-face with her massive, amazing breasts.

"Ready, draga?" She asks and you nod your head.

Alcina cradles you in the crook of her arm and guides her nipple into your mouth. You immediately latch on and begin to suck, warm milk spilling out into your mouth. Alcina sighs from the relief of the pressure and sits back against the headboard. She runs her fingers through your hair and smiles, happy that she is able to care for you in such a way - especially when you needed it so badly.

Warm milk fills your empty belly and you hum in response. You feel Alcina's fingers comb through your hair and you close your eyes, relaxing into her touch as you continue to drink from her breast. The steady flow of milk begins to thin and eventually stops, no matter how much you suck at her hardened nipple.

"Still hungry iubirea mea?" She asks.

"Mhm."

"Okay love, one second."

Alcina turns you and cradles you in her other arm and once again guides her nipple into your eager mouth. Latching on again, you continue to drink the steady flow of milk from her breast.

"Good girl, that's it my love. Eat as much as you need. You and I both know I have no issues with shortages." She says and you giggle into her skin as you drink.

The warmth in your belly spreads throughout your body, to your limbs, to your fingers and toes, to your head and your face. With the warmth comes the exhaustion you were feeling earlier and your eyes begin to slowly close.

Alcina notices your suckling getting lighter and lighter before stopping altogether. Looking down at you, she finds you asleep with her nipple still in your mouth and a steam of milk down your cheek. She lightly chuckles before pulling you back and wiping away the milk with her thumb.

The movement and the sensation of her wiping her thumb across your cheek stirs you awake and you look up at her with tired eyes.

"Are you full draga mea?"

"Mhm." You mumble as you nod your head yes.

"Good." She says caressing your face. "Go to sleep iubirea mea."

Alcina moves to lay you on the bed but you cling to her.

"Stay." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"I will be right back, I promise. I am going to put my nightgown on and get ready for bed and I will be right back. Okay?"

You sleepily nod your head and Alcina lays you on the pillow next to her. She kisses you on the head before pulling the covers over you and getting up and getting herself ready for bed. For all you know it could have been hours or seconds since Alcina said she would be right back. But before you know it you feel the mattress sink under her weight and you feel her strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into her.

"Thank you, Alci. I love you." You mumble.

"Of course iubirea mea. I'd do anything for you draga. Te iubesc mai mult decât luna și stelele. Goodnight my love." She says as her lips graze the shell of your ear. Alcina kisses the soft skin behind your ear and nuzzles you as you cuddle further back into her. (I love you more than the moon and stars.)

Not long after, Alcina hears light snores coming from you. With a full heart and a smile on her face, Alcina falls asleep thinking of who she is going to replace the current mayor with once she's through with him tomorrow morning.

[nat-20s]

THE GIRLS (FOURTEEN AND DONNA) ARE FIGHTIIIINNNGGG'

aka Donna has some lingering Feelings on the whole mind wipe thing and she's gonna shout about it <3

The Mess That's Made of Us

She didn’t mean for an outburst. They were having a calm, rational, adult discussion, not a fight. She didn’t even want a fight, not really. But The Doctor, he couldn’t just let it go and let her sort out her big stupid feelings on her own. No, he had to needle, he had to inquire, he had to push. He had to say that “everything had turned out all right, in the end”, and oh, that so wasn’t the fucking point. Nearly choking on the words, she yells out, “What would you have done?!”

After he startles and she has a moment to be thankful no one else is home right now, he’s shockingly even when he replies, “You..you know what I did.”

She lets out a right and proper growl of frustration. Clenching and unclenching her fists a few times in an attempt to ground herself, she grits out, “Not what I meant.”

“Donna, I don’t-”

“I meant, you pedantic little-”

She cuts herself off, takes in a deep breath in and out through her nose, and tries again. “I meant if our roles had been swapped. If I had been the one to take that year away from you, if you were about to have an essential part of the person you had become stripped all away in a moment. How would you have reacted? What. Would you. Have done?”

“I..”

She doesn’t let him finish, collect his thoughts, say pretty words that would fix it all. See, she can push, and push, and push too, now can’t she, Doctor? Generally, Donna doesn’t consider herself a cruel person. Sometimes oblivious, sometimes obnoxious, sometimes inconsiderate, but not cruel. But she knows she’s capable of it. She knows, if she so desires, she can hurt someone. She’s not trying to hurt The Doctor, except that she is, not to wound but to pull him to where she is right now. To make the grief and the rage and the conflict be shared. So she keeps going. “It’s not the same though, right? No, of course not. One year out of a billion, maybe more, that doesn’t make much of a difference, does it? Like forgetting what you had for breakfast that morning, barely a breath. I bet it would’ve been so easy, for you.”

“Donna!”

When he says it, his face is hard, and frustrated, but not cold. That’s something she’s still getting used to, with this new-old face. He used to have the coldest rage she ever saw, standing like a stranger. Now, he doesn’t tend to rage at all. It’s enough to make her clamp her mouth and actually listen for a second.

“Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about? Barely a breath, easy for me? Do you really believe that our time together meant that little to me? Do you really not understand by now? I mean, look at my face, Donna. And this is the second time that I’m completely rearranged myself in memory of you! One day with you changedme. One full year with you? Rewrote me.

So yes, removing my time with you would’ve made a difference. It would’ve made all the difference in the universe. And I don’t know what I would’ve done. If I had to get rid of the part of me that was made from you. I’m not sure I could.”

Such pretty words. And, well, the face in front of her right now does suggest some truth to them. But she can’t quite believe them, and she can’t quite look at said face, so instead her vision drifts over to the Tardis parked outside their kitchen window. Folding her arms and staring listlessly, she counters, “Yeah? Don’t you think you would’ve, I dunno, blinked and gone ‘oh that’s odd’ before putting on one of those manic smiles and inputting the coordinates to Venus in the 15th century, and that would’ve been that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, The Doctor’s face goes through a rapid series of motions that she can almost sort out, before stopping at realization. Oh. She didn’t like that one bit.

“Ah, that’s what you think did happen, huh? You think I flew away in my box and had magical adventures and found someone else in a day. It would make sense, right? Start pallin’ around with the nearest redhead I could find, forget all about me ol’ mate Donna, it’s not like she was gonna remember, so why should I?”

She sniffs, and tilts her face up, and resolutely does not let any tears fall. She also does not look at him.

“Donna, there was no one else, not until I was someone else. You want to know what happened, after I lost you? I broke. And then died. There was no me without you.”

Fuck. He changes his tune then, and she’s pretty sure they’re no longer fighting. They’ve always lacked a talent for it. He comes closer, placing both his hands gently on top of her still crossed arms, and moves until she has to look him in the eye. He even throws in a smile. Damn him to hell, he knows it’s near impossible for her to see her best friend smiling and start smiling a bit herself.

With a breath that borders on being a laugh, he continues, “But you! You got married, and yelled at parking attendants, and had a kid, and you existed. And I can’t regret that, I can’t. So I’m sorry, I really am. I ignored your pleas, and I took some of you away, and I’d do it again. I’d do it every time.”

She lets out a sigh and lets her arms drop to the sides. “I know.”

Wiping a hand down her face, she mixes a huff and a shrug. “Honestly, Doctor? I think I’ve already forgiven you.”

With a nod, she stands up straight and tells him straight, “I think I forgave you the moment it happened. I just..I just need time. I know it’s been years but I’ve only been able to think on it for a week.”

“I understand. Hell, there’s things that take me a couple thousand years to process, so.”

Donna rolls her eyes and let’s out a small chuckle, before opening her arms and saying, “C’mere, spaceman.”

The Doctor quite readily does, and the hug fits just as naturally as it always has. They take a moment to breathe together, and Donna gets to listen to the comforting double rhythm of the two healthy hearts in his chest. The silence is comfortable and the sharpness has eased.

When she pulls back, she can’t help but ask, “Wait, second face? What was the other one?”

“Ah. About that-”

[dira333]

Of Swings and Snakes - Matsukawa x Reader

part 1 - this is the angsty start, for someone who likes angst to fluff, leave a note so I can tag you in part 2

Warning: Angst, Relationship ending, failed communication

tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and my angsty Mattsun Anon

The old swingset creaks loudly as you push yourself forward. It’s the only noise in the park and it would probably be creeping you out if your thoughts weren’t occupied as is. 

You barely have enough energy to push yourself forward, but you cannot stay in place either and the loud, whining creak is enough to cut a little slice out of the gloom that’s been settling heavily into your skin.

“This seat taken?” 

You don’t look up. Makki settles in the swing next to you without waiting for an answer.

For a while, there’s just the sound of two swings creaking, the soft sound when your feet hit the floor to push you forward just a little more.

Eventually, though, you come to a stop. Makki follows, puts his feet down so hard dirt flies through the air. 

His left hand moves over to take yours, folding around your cold fingers holding the cold metal.

“I’m staying with you, okay?” He says, “You’re not going to be alone.”

Finally, your tears start to flow.

-

When you’re dating in high school, the reactions are always the same.

There are the ones who think it’s cute.

“Youth,” they’ll say with a wistful smile. “To be young again.”

There are the ones who think you’re too young. 

“You’ll regret this later, trust me. Don’t bind yourself to someone else too early.”

And there are the ones who look like their heart breaks just at the thought of it.

“I wish you the best,” your mother had said when you brought home the news, “I hope it turns out better for you.”

You hadn’t thought to ask then, what she meant. Would you have decided differently, if you had? If you’d heard about her own love story at seventeen? How she loved and lost in much the same way?

Or maybe you’d have told yourself that you are different. 

Only to realize that you are not.

-

“Please welcome our new manager to the team.” 

You wave shyly as the boys turn toward you. Your Middle School Volleyball Club was way smaller.

There’s talk of them making Nationals this year and you do your best to help.

“Oikawa made a name for himself in Middle School,” they say like he’s the Messiah that will bring new life to their hopes and aspirations.

And he’s good, that’s easy to tell. But where your Senpai seem to forget that Oikawa isn’t the only first year, you can see all of them gleam and glitter in the background, like Stars, unable to outshine the moon with their light.

Iwaizumi is a little shy, but you stay back to help him practice his spikes sometimes. 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa, or as they ask you to call them, Makki and Mattsun, tend to goof off most of the time during training but it’s not hard to call them to attention. Watching them play together is something you will not get tired of.

“Hey, Manager, can you help us?” Makki calls out to you, “I wanna practice blocking with Mattsun.”

“Coming!”

.

You don’t make it to Nationals this year. Shiratorizawa has also gained a new star and if Oikawa is the moon, outshining the stars, Ushijima Wakatoshi is the bright midday sun, burning away all memories of the night.

“You are a good manager,” he finds you in the hallways later, face set in a passive frown, “you should come to Shiratorizawa.”

And you’re sure it’s a compliment, in a way. But there’s no question of your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t be half as good as you think if I’d just abandon my team the moment someone asks me to.”

There’s surprise evident on his face that soon falls away.

“Come on, Ushiwaka, we’re going to be late,” a redhead calls for him just as Mattsun appears at the corner, waiting for you.

“We’ll meet again,” Ushijima promises and you shrug before turning around. You suppose there’s nothing you can do about it.

-

“Mom, can you give me my water bottle?”

Silence falls over the Gym, then laughter.

“What?” Watari asks, hackles rising.

“You just called our Manager Mom,” Sawauchi points out.

“No, I didn’t!” Watari defends himself and you pity the poor first year.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind-” 

“You don’t mind?” Makki leans heavily onto your shoulder. You don’t know how he could appear so fast out of thin air. “Mattsun, did you hear that?”

“Hm, I did.” He leans heavily on your other shoulder, winking down at you when you look up at him. Mattsun’s so close you can see every single one of his unfairly long lashes and the slow growth of his lazy smirk. 

He’s terrifyingly good looking and you suspect he knows it too.

-

“Mom!” Kyoutani yells through the Gym a few weeks later, the Nickname stuck like glue.

“Coming,” you yell back, emergency kit ready. “Jeez, you guys need to stop being so rough. Everything okay, Watari?”

“Yeah,” the Libero’s clutching his nose, blood dribbling out from under his hands. “Just managed to receive with my face.”

“Thanks for calling me, Kyoutani,” you tell the other boy who nods gruffly before returning to the court as if nothing happened.

“Come up,” you say, but he stays on the floor, growing paler. 

“I don’t feel so good,” he mutters and your head flies around, looking for someone, anyone who can help.

“I’m here,” Mattsun calls out immediately, already by your side. You didn’t see him come over, nor do you know why he decided to do it, but you’re too thankful to think about it now. 

Together you manage to get Watari out of the Gym where he empties his stomach into a nearby shrub.

“Let’s get you to school nurse,” Mattsun decides before looking at you. “That okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

With Watari supported on your left and Mattsun’s right arm, the walk is more than a little wobbly - height difference and all - but your mind is going elsewhere, unable to focus on the first-year’s health.

Mattsun’s arm rests under yours on Watari’s back, warm and steadfast and safe.

He smiles softly, reassuring, whenever your eyes cross.

He doesn’t have to say anything, he just has to be there.

-

“Hey, I was wondering…” Mattsun’s rubbing the back of his head and you stop to give him some time to think.

“Yeah?”

A pink blush grows on his cheeks. You wonder if this is really what you think it is.

“I really like you. A lot. And I was thinking… if you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

You swallow thickly, look around for any signs that this is a prank.

“Are you being serious?”

“When have I ever not been- scratch that, yes, I’m serious.” He stretches out his hand as if this is a business offer, realizing half-way how weird it looks.

But it’s too late, you’ve already clamped both hands around his and shook it.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” you blurt out, just as awkward in your affection as he is.

A wide, satisfied grin spreads over his face and the blush intensifies to your delight.

“Wait,” Makki calls out from somewhere behind him, “Does that make Mattsun my Dad? I’m veto-ing!”

“You don’t get a say,” you declare just moments before Mattsun pulls you in, face mushed into his chest.

“If we run now,” he whispers, “we can outrun him.”

-

“If you miss this serve, you’re buying Ramen!” Makki declares.

“I want mine with pork!” Mattsun immediately adds on.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. They might be playing an important game, but this team knows better.

“I want mine extra spicy,” you call out from the side, waving when both Mattsun and Makki give you a thumbs up for the order.

.

“What are you going to do now?” Kindaichi asks after their loss.

“What do you mean?” You ask back.

“Are you still going to come to practice? You’ve got your exams coming up.”

“Are you trying to steal my girlfriend?” Mattsun hooks his head over your shoulder, trying to stare Kindaichi down.

“NO! No, no, I just… it will be different without you there.”

“Yamagata-chan will be helping you just fine,” you assure him, smiling at your feisty first-year manager. “I’m not sure yet, it depends on how well I’m getting on with studying.”

“Lies,” Mattsun whispers into your ear when Kindaichi turns his back on you for a second. “You’ll be back. You care too much.”

And isn’t that the truth?

-x-

“Where’s he staying?” You ask, your hand curled around the doorframe. Even from this distance you can tell that Mattsun’s missing.

Later you’ll find your suitcase missing, along with his suits and a few sets of underwear. He’s never been a materialist.

“I-” Makki pulls his head in as if to avoid the question. 

“Please?”

“He’s staying with Kyoutani for the moment,” he sighs, moves as if to hug you but pulls back when you step out of reach.

“I’m staying with you, okay? You won’t have to be alone.”

“What if I want to be?”

Makki cocks his head to the side, eyeing you curiously. “No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “but you’re making Dinner. I’m going to take a bath.”

“Don’t drown.”

You flip him off.

Though when you’re sitting in the hot water, surrounded by remnants of this lost relationship, you can’t help but weep.

-

“What’s this monstrosity?” You ask when Mattsun drops his hands from your eyes. There, on the shower curtain, is a giant cat in Seijoh colors, flying through space.

“Do you like it?” Mattsun asks, giggling, “Kindaichi ordered it.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t, Kunimi ordered it. But Kindaichi paid.”

“Poor guy,” you huff, “but I suppose we can’t get rid of it now.”

“You always wanted a cat.”

You snort. “Yeah, and I guess I got one now.”

“And look, Kyoutani got us this kitten soap dishes to match. Isn’t that thoughtful?”

You sigh. “It is. At least now I’m glad I had the foresight to steal towels during my time at Seijoh.”

“You didn’t,” Mattsun gasps, “I’m dating a criminal!”

“You do,” you sling your arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to his jaw, “gonna kill you if you sing.”

He laughs, dips you like you’re dancing. 

And yes, your apartment is barely big enough to fit the two of you, but it doesn’t matter. Not as long as you’re together.

-

“What’s for Dinner?” Makki asks, closing the door behind him with a snap.

“I wanted to make Lasagna but I only had Ramen Noodles left, so I don’t know what to call it,” you announce from the stove.

“Oh, LaRamna, my favorite,” he chirps, going straight for the snack drawer until a well-aimed spoon cuts him off.

“No chocolate before Dinner.”

“But-”

“You can set the table.”

“Fine,” Makki huffs, sticking his tongue out at you. “I brought wine with me, by the way.”

“Oh, how classy of you. Are we pretending to be something other than College Kids?”

“Who’s pretending what?” Mattsun’s still in the door, wet hair hanging into his eyes.

“Oh baby,” you coo, walking over. “Did you forget your umbrella again?”

“Mhm,” he leans down to kiss you, leaving droplets of cold running down your skin. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hum back. Mattsun leans in to kiss you again though this time he stops, turns and “Makki, no Chocolate before Dinner!”

-

“You good?” Makki asks, pushing an open bar of chocolate in your direction.

“Yeah,” you hum, doodling yet another heart into your book.

“You don’t look it.”

“Just lonely, I guess,” you admit, “I’m not used to Mattsun staying out this late.”

“How long is this course going?”

“Two weeks,” you groan, rubbing your eyes.

“That’s not that long.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not.”

But the gloominess doesn’t really go away that night.

.

“Another course?” You ask, focus on the carrots you’re cutting.

“Yeah,” Mattsun’s at the table, going over the bills. “This one’s not mandatory but I’d get ahead much faster. My uncle said I could start working part-time for him as soon as I’ve got through this one.”

“You wanna work for your uncle?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He purses his lips, taps the table with his pen.

“I mean, it’s honest work, right? I don’t really have any passion to follow and it pays good money.”

“Yeah, but what if you realize you hate it?”

“I’d figure it out then, wouldn’t I?” He cocks his head to the side to look at you. “Do you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… I don’t like those late classes.”

“I know,” he coos, getting up and walking over. “I know you hate falling asleep without me.”

“That too,” you huff and lean into him. “I just… I didn’t know growing up was this hard.”

“It won’t be for long, I promise.”

-

The numbers on your alarm clock are a bright, annoying red and a slap in the face.

It’s two hours past midnight yet the other side of your bed is cold and empty. 

There are no new messages on your phone as you slip out of bed and stalk around the room, chewing on your lower lip as you consider your options.

Call the police? Call Makki? 

You call Mattsun, because that’s always been your go-to if you needed help.

The familiar ringtone cuts through the silence, muffled only by the closed door.

When you open it, you’re greeted by the dim lights over the stove and a long body stretched out on the Couch. 

He fell asleep waiting for the Microwave to get done and though you want nothing less than to curl up beside him, he looks far too exhausted for you to wake him up.

So you tuck him in the best you can before you slip back into the bed he should be sharing with you, unable to get rid of a chill that has started creeping in.

-

“Instant Ramen?” Makki’s stopped halfway to the fridge, staring at your choice of Dinner. You shrug and dig your chopsticks into the meal.

He looks like he wants to add something, but instead, he picks a pack out of the drawer Mattsun pretended to hide them in. A few minutes later he’s sitting across from you, blowing on his own bowl of Ramen.

“I thought they’re not healthy.”

“They’re not.”

“Period incoming.”

“Had it last week.”

“Hm.” Makki squints, takes a first sip, and curses when he burns his mouth.

“Okay,” he huffs finally when even that doesn’t make you smile, “Spill. Why are we eating Instant Ramen instead of the usual healthy stuff you like to make?”

“I hate cooking for one person.”

Makki stops, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

“But you’re not cooking for one person,” he says, confused, “You always cook for-”

You stare at him until he breaks off in the middle of his sentence.

But Makki wouldn’t be Makki if he could be convinced to shut up by a glare alone.

“It’s only a few more days until the course is over.”

“I think he’s cheating on me.”

Makki’s chopsticks drop into his bowl, spraying broth everywhere. But you don’t care. Not about that, at least. 

You eat on, try to stare a hole into the wooden tabletop, right there, where you usually put Mattsun’s bowl when he sits down for Dinner.

“You wouldn’t-” Makki stumbles over the words. “He wouldn’t- Why do you think-”

“Working late,” you count on your fingers, “coming home later than the course needs him to, smelling like perfume. Do you need me to go on?”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“Yes,” you nod sharply, “but apparently it’s a secret I’m not supposed to know.”

Makki sighs. “It really is, I know it and it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

You freeze. Makki dares to show a small smile and you look up at him, surprised at your own feelings.

“I was actually kinda relieved,” you admit, voice hollow, “because that would have explained why he doesn’t want to spend time with me anymore.”

-x-

It’s hard, getting up in the morning after your first - and worst - breakup.

It’s hard, getting through the day and coming home again only to realize that this is it. This apartment will never be filled with life again, not in the way it was supposed to be. 

Makki only leaves your side for work, sleeping on the Couch as if it’s his bed and not a torture instrument created to destroy your back muscles. 

You think it’s sweet of him until you realize that Mattsun’s probably camping out in Makki’s apartment now. 

All the friends you have are tied to the two of you.

And while none of them pick sides, you kinda want them to.

You want them to tell you that this is wrong. That you should have stayed, that you should have tried harder. 

Because if everyone’s just sympathetic, doesn’t that mean you don’t have any chance to mend this? To have a future with Mattsun in it?

You’re not home when Mattsun comes to pick up most of his things.

All those feelings come back up again at the sight of empty spaces where his things should have been.

The mountain of blankets because he likes to wrap himself like a Burrito. His movie collection. The sweaters you loved to curl up in when he wasn’t around.

But he left the shower curtain and seeing that still hanging feels like the worst betrayal, a knife straight to the heart. 

You’re not doing the best job taking it down, but you’d rather spray water everywhere than look at it again, be reminded of what could have been but didn’t.

-

This time he wakes you up.

Makki must have told him, managed to get a hold of him between classes and work and this stupid course. You can see it in his face, can feel it in the way he holds you, not too close but never too far.

“I’m not cheating on you,” he assures you, shadows under his eyes from not sleeping enough, hair disheveled and sweaty, “I swear, I promise, I’d never do something like that.”

And maybe it’s the late night or the loneliness, watching him be so nonchalant about all the time spent apart, or something else you haven’t yet faced, but the words slip out like snakes, quiet, quick, and unstoppable.

“I want a break.”

“A break?” His voice is high, frightened, like that time he dragged you to a haunted house and realized he’s so much worse at getting through them than you are.

“A break. I can’t go on like this. I don’t see you anymore. I don’t… I don’t know if I love you anymore.”

Mattsun sinks into himself, shrinks until he’s barely tall enough to look at you. 

This is what you did to him, you think, this is what he did to you.

“A break like Rachel or a break like Ross?” He asks, voice wavering.

You stare at the wall behind him, at the absence of a mess in the bedroom because you keep it tidy and he falls asleep on the Couch more often than not.

“Like Ross,” you say because you’ve always believed in clean cuts over jagged edges.

The worst thing is that he doesn’t fight.

Mattsun doesn’t argue with you over the end of your relationship.

If he had, this might have turned out differently.

But he doesn’t, he just sneaks back to the Couch in the living room, curls up in the blankets like a dog that’s been banished to his corner.

He doesn’t even wake up when you sneak outside, unable to sleep, unable to stay in one place.

It’s not Mattsun who finds you at the swingset, the place you always go to when you have to think.

It’s Makki.

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[diagnosedpsychosis]

Protective Hotch

Description: There is a copycat the BAU are after, so Hotch and reader go to prison to talk to the original offender. The prisoner makes a few suggestive comments about the reader that Hotch doesn't like.

Made up, not a CM episode.

Word Count: 2.5k

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You had only ever stepped inside a prison a handful of times before. Literally. You could count every visit on one hand, all whilst being able to recount why you'd gone those 4 times in the first place; now 5.

The first 3 were all for the same thing, and the same person. A serial rapist and murderer you had helped catch years earlier was being interviewed, and not only did you have to supervise, but perform a psych eval on him as well.

The fourth time, you were in and out in record time. Another prisoner you'd put away had died and you were there purely to collect the few belongings in his cell. When the Warden of the Penitentiary had called you to inform you of the inmates passing, you offered to come down from Virginia. The Warden suggested not bothering, and that they'd just throw his belongings in the rubbish bin, which is exactly why you got on the earliest plane you possibly could. This particular inmate had victims he'd not told you about, and you just wanted to make sure with your own eyes he didn't name them in or on anything in his cell.

Today though, on your fifth time inside prison walls, you weren't alone. Your company came in the form of your long time workplace crush, Aaron Hotchner. The pressure of having not only your crush, but the BAU's Unit Chief with you put an immense weight on your shoulders.

Usually you weren't fazed by the cold glares and almost bored expressions. Aaron Hotchner exuded power and had subconsciously mastered the art of intimidation, but that wasn't what made the hairs on the back of your neck stand as he walked beside you, down prison halls.

It was how close beside you he walked. The outside of his arm brushed yours with each step and sway of his arms, and even though you could see, in the corner of your eye, his head facing forward, you could feel his eyes bouncing all over the place.

He stood close not because he wanted to, but because even if every cell door was closed, and every hall had 3 guards tending to it at all times, he didn't feel 100% safe, which meant he wasn't comfortable having you around. Because he knew, that if by some fluke chance the doors buzzed open, you would be every prisoners target.

He knew it. You knew it. The inmates knew it.

"Oh Hey Baby, how about taking a detour and stopping by my cell?" Somebody off to the side hollered, which lead to a loud array of crude comments made your way. You ignored them well, but Hotch seemed to take offence for you. You were almost at the end of the hall, but that didn't stop Hotch from protectively stepping even closer, almost tripping you up with how close he now was.

You both got to the door at the end of the hall, the guard standing beside it nodding at the two of you before letting you in. You walked in first, Hotch shutting the door behind himself as you stepped up to the one sided glass, looking at the man you both were about to question.

"Certainly not the kind of man I'd enjoy being alone with" You stated, Hotch stopped beside you and looking into the visitors room, his arm brushing yours again. Relatively old and greying, Martin Gould was NOT a sight for sore eyes. He wasn't attractive, which is what ended up being a factor of his killings. He'd ask a woman out, she'd reject him, he'd later stalk her, and then rape and mutilate her, in her own home.

"I wouldn't have brought you if I didn't need you. I'm not going to leave your side. I promise" Hotch told you. When you and the team had been going through victimology of the copycats and then compared them to the original killers, you'd all come to the same conclusion. You were his type, to the T.

That's why you were here. Not because your skills were valued and appreciated...but because you were this guys type, and you hated that. You hated feeling like you had to prove yourself more, in a team you'd been in for years. You worked 5 times as hard as everyone else, and yet still felt like you'd gotten nowhere at being seen as an asset to the team. Nobody had ever said it to your face, hell maybe they'd never even thought that way about you, but you were an avid overthinking pessimist.

"Everything is going to be fine" Hotch reassured you again when you didn't reply to his promise. You sighed, grabbing the door that separated you two from Martin Gould.

"Easy for you to say. He raped and mutilated 13 women" Before Hotch got time to process what you'd said and the weight of your words, you opened the door and stepped inside. Martin Gould immediately looked to you as you entered, paying little to no attention to Hotch as he followed behind, and took the seat beside you at the metal table.

"Wow. Just wow" Martin sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his open palm, as he stared at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. At least someone appreciated you.

"Martin, I'm SSA y/n y/l/n, and this is SSA Aaron-"

"Has anyone ever told you you've got the eyes of a rare jewel?" You ignored him, and continued on like he'd never interrupted you in the first place.

"-Hotchner. We're with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit-"

"No ring, I don't see how that's possible. You must have men down at your feet 24/7" Martin interrupted you again, shuffling forward in his seat slightly to get closer to you.

"We're here to investigate a string of serial rape and mutilations. Same signature as yours from 7 years ago" Hotch speaks for the first time, and you both notice Martin's jaw twitch at the sound of his voice. Martin takes a breath, ignoring Hotch before smiling back at you.

"Couldn't be me, Sweetheart" Martin tells you softly, lifting his hands and showing you the chains restricting his movement.

"It's a copycat, somebody who admires you. He's probably sent you hundreds of letters over the course of the last 7 years" Martin holds his smirk as he listens to you, enjoying the sound of your voice and the way your lips move with each word.

"They would've started with him confiding in you, expressing his share of troubles involving women rejecting him. Then they would've started becoming a little more aggressive" You state, Hotch straightening his posture, one of his tells that he's about to talk.

"Probably wrote 'What is wrong with me?' over and over again" Hotch adds, Martin's smile faltering as he speaks again.

"And then his most recent letters would've been him talking about women like we're a virus. Something nasty that could be caught and had to be terminated" Martin shook his head ever so lightly, his smile growing with every second you continued talking to him. He's a classic narcissist and thinks that the fact you're talking directly to him and looking him dead on, means you're flirting with him.

"As pretty as you are, you're just like them, aren't you?" He asked slowly making you frown.

"I'm sorry?" Martin leans forward a tiny bit more, the smile on his face long gone and replaced with a look of repulsion.

"A needy whore, asking for it-"

"That's enough" Hotch stated.

"Begging for it. You all lead us on with your smiles and your glances, but then you laugh in our faces and tell us to get lost" So that's why he thought these women deserved it. Because to him, an innocent smile and a half a second passing by glance meant flirting. So when he'd walk up and randomly ask a woman out and she'd say no, he'd see her as a tease, a deceiver, someone who needed to pay.

"You're nothing less, Agent y/n y/l/n. Just a whore with a bitching, lying mouth, and a pussy asking to be-" Hotch sliding back in his chair and abruptly standing up caught you off guard more than Martin Gould's random verbal attack.

"Y/n, out" Hotch demanded, leaving no room to argue against his direct order. But you did anyway.

"No, Hotch, I'm fine-"

"Y/l/n, out or you're suspended for a week" Your face contorts with shock. Never has Hotch ever been so forward and aggressive towards you in your life and you hated how being on the receiving end of his threat made you feel.

"What?" You stood and raised your voice, finding Hotch completely unreasonable in this moment. You were with a prisoner who know who the unsub was, you could easily get it out of him, and now here he was sending you out. He brought you all this way for a couple sentences?

"You're not being forceful enough, Agent. Bend her over and teach her a-" Martin's words became background noise as Hotch took your arm, backing you up to the door of the visiting room, before opening the door and practically shoving you out. He let go before you could rip your arm from his grasp, and shut the door in your face.

Not knowing what the hell just happened and why the hell Hotch reacted like that, you storm over to the one sided glass window, and slam your palm against the button under the window that allows you to hear what is being said inside the visiting room.

"I don't care who you are, or where we are. If you ever talk to my Agent like that, ever again, I'll make you sure I am the last thing you ever see" Hotch threatened, the look on his face sending a wave of goose bumps over every inch of your burning skin. He looked furious.

"Probably not the best place to threaten killing me, Agent Hotchner" Martin stated, trying to hold back his laughter. It quickly died down at the expression adorning Hotch's face. It was almost like he was being challenged.

"I don't need to kill you to take away your sight, Gould. All I need is a speculum and a pair of scissors" Hotch replied and you watched in shock as for the first time since talking with him, Martin looked anything but cocky. Hotch used Martin's current state to his advantage.

"His name" Martin hesitated, glancing at the one way window like he knew you were standing behind it.

"Dane Hansen" The second the name left his mouth, Hotch was turning around and exiting the visiting room, only to be met with an annoyed you, giving him the cold shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to yours as he shut the door behind himself.

"Don't give me that look."

"I was given about 10 seconds from the first time you told me to get out before you threatened to suspend me. If you want me gone just say it, Hotch" You knew you were probably being unreasonable but you were annoyed. What so quickly went from 'get out' turned to 'if you don't you're suspended'. It escalated in seconds and made you wonder how long they'd been sitting on the tip of Hotch's tongue.

"Was I the only one that heard the way he talked about you?" Hotch questioned, clearly annoyed by your assumption. You take a step toward him.

"Simply sending me out of the room doesn't stop me from hearing it, Hotch" You brought attention to your hand by tapping the button again, turning off the speaker. Hotch took a step forward.

"He was getting satisfaction out of you being in the room" My presence. My face. My body. Not my skills, and Hotch knew that. He only brought me to show me off.

"Be honest with me, Hotch. Do you bring me along for these things because you think I'm the worst profiler on the team, so I won't be needed as much back there with everyone?" Hotch frowns at me, turning his head to the right slightly.

"I have never once called you a bad profiler."

"You've never called me a good one either, Aaron. Believe it or not, but I'm one of those people that need to be told they're doing good to keep doing good. I need the validation, otherwise I lose energy and end up giving a half assed effort" You immediately realised the first name slip, but if Hotch noticed it he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he takes another step that makes him dangerously close. You can smell his musky cologne, and if either of you take another step your face would be buried in his chest.

"Y/n, you're not a good profiler, you're an amazing profiler. I didn't bring you along today to show you off as a piece of meat to Gould. You're his type, but so is Prentiss. I wanted you here. I wanted you on the plane, and I wanted you in the car. I like your company, I like your perspective and I like your brain" You suck in a shaky breath, embarrassingly overwhelmed so quickly by Hotch's compliment. Even though it's only a few things, it means so much because he's not the kind of guy to get even slightly sentimental about anything.

"You think I don't notice when the overthinking side of you takes over the reasonable side? You're an asset to our team, y/n. I didn't bring you along for the benefit of the case, I brought you along for myself" Tense silence consumes the room and the air the two of you breathe. For what feels like minutes, you two stand, almost toe to toe staring at each other.

There's an achingly intense energy floating around the two of you, and before looks go any further or before either of you can slice the tension in half, Hotch's phone rings, and you both rear back at the shriek.

Your shoulders sag in disappointment and you swear you see the same with Hotch's, but he's back in boss mode too fast for you to really catch a good look as he listens to somebody on the other end of the line.

"We're just heading out now. Yeah, we got a name; Dane Hansen" Hotch ends the phone call and his eyes meet yours again as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"We've got to go" You press your lips into a tight smile and nod. Walking past him, you go to grab the door that'll lead you back into the hall, but before you reach it a large, warm hand wraps around your wrist stopping you.

You turn back to Hotch, and again he's toe to toe with you. His grip on your arm is soft, and the look on his face mixed with his parted lips tells you all you need to know; he wants to say something.

You don't know what he's thinking, but you also don't want to force it out of him. You smile and slowly pull away from his grip before patting his arm.

"It's okay, Aaron. Come on, let's go."

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