#But I’m afraid of the repercussions

[herawell]

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[glassrunner]

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[observethewalrus]

i just do not get twitter. everyone’s angry about something or someone but they’re all vagueposting and won’t actually say what’s going on. i can’t even follow along with the drama in replies cuz each individual comment can have its own replies and suddenly you’re 20 posts removed from the original thread. discourse there is toxic af and I instantly regret opening the app

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // I.

baby daddy!sukuna x reader

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different | wc: 1,653 | read this for more context

note: I hope I got the honorifics right lol please correct me if I didn't

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

You didn’t think it was possible for a five year old to render you speechless, nor did you think she was capable of making your former lover blush the deepest shade of tomato red. You part your lips in surprise, stunned as you look down at her innocent expression. She’s sitting on your living room floor, her face perched on her palms with her elbows resting against the coffee table. Her wide eyes drift between you and Sukuna sitting on the sofa, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she tilts her head slightly out of intrigue.

“Mama?” She presses, begging for an answer.

Your mouth moves but no words come out. You’re trying to formulate a proper response that’s palatable for her, one that will be enough to subdue any further questions.

Except you’re not quite sure how to answer: “why don’t you and daddy ever kiss?” without making her pry even more into your history with her father.

Sukuna runs his large palms back and forth nervously over his thigh, the muscles on his inked forearms tensing up.

“We kiss,” you fib, because what else are you supposed to say, “of course we do!”

Your daughter’s face falters, and she quirks her brow as sassily as her father when they both mirror the same expression to look at you.

You glance back at Sukuna, giving him an awkward smile because at least you said something all the while he just sat there. 

“No, you don’t…” your daughter insists.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right…we do…of course, we do…” Sukuna pipes in with a mumble, finally catching on to your attempts as he reverts his attention on to his precious girl.

“I’ve never seen it,” she points out with a pout, scolding her father playfully in return.

“That’s because we don’t do it in front of you,” Sukuna remarks. “Besides, who wants to see their parents kiss?”

His daughter rolls her eyes, “all other mommies and daddies do it, except you guys. It makes no sense…”

She’s got the tiniest voice and the softest lisp, but her attitude is entirely her father. She’s bold and blunt, never afraid to say exactly what she’s thinking or to point the obvious.

“Oji-san kisses oba-san in front of Shiro…” she mumbles, dropping both her hands onto the coffee table and crumpling the paper that she is using to draw her little family portrait.

At the mention of his younger brother Sukuna can’t help but grimace. Yuji was incredibly affectionate towards his wife, wearing his heart on his sleeve entirely which just makes Sukuna grumble with annoyance. He’s always been a little envious of his younger brother, who never had to face the world as harshly as Sukuna. With an eleven year gap between them, Sukuna witnessed his parents becoming actual parents. They were young when they had him, and therefore had no clue what it took to raise or take care of a child. Sukuna was caught in the middle of their relationship for most of his childhood, all the while Yuji got to see the peaceful harmony once they finally made up.

“I’m just saying…” your daughter adds on, “…it’s weird.”

You breathe out a sigh in defeat, knowing full well that she won’t let go of the subject until she gets some consolation.

So incredibly stubborn just like her dad.

Without considering the repercussions, you reach your hand out and clutch Sukuna’s chin delicately between your fingers. You tilt his head towards you, noticing the slow register of your touch wash over his face as you lean up to kiss his cheek.

However, you misjudged your aim, because Sukuna tilted his head down in return, and you wound up leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.

Your lips lingered for only a few seconds, three to be exact, before you retracted and turned towards your daughter.

“See?” You insist, holding onto Sukuna’s chin like it’s evidence between your fingers. “We kiss!”

Your daughter’s mouth forms into a line, clearly unimpressed. The older she’s getting the more she’s picking up on the little things that you guys were hiding so well.

But it’s still way too complicated, and you and Sukuna haven't even discussed how to approach this yet.

“I guess,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, before returning to her drawing.

You didn’t even know that Sukuna has his focus still locked onto your lips tuntil you turn to look back at him.His gaze is soft, the muscles of his handsome features melting between your touch. There’s a hint of sorrow that twinkles in his eyes, and when you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth apologetically, you notice that you left a lipstick stain in your wake.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and carefully use your thumb to swipe over the mark.

But your heart seizes quickly, your spine growing still when Sukuna mildly inches forward like he’s about to go in for another kiss.

You remember what it was like to kiss him. He was an exceptionally good kisser, even though he probably doesn’t know it himself. You’ve spent hours losing time locked against those lips, allowing his tongue to taste every last drop of you.

There’s a twitch in your chest, everything around you going quiet. Heat pricks the back of your neck when his lips draw just a breath away from yours, and you swear to yourself that he grazed over your mouth with a featherlight touch.

But Sukuna stops suddenly, catching himself.

“Be right back,” he whispers, his voice dipping so low you can’t help but clench your thighs together.

He shoots up from his seat, detangling quickly as he brushes you off, and leaving you to stare aimlessly at his broad back and overbearing muscles. Your sofa suddenly appears a lot larger with all that free space.

You press both hands to your cheeks, licking your lips as the apprehension runs through you as a cold chill. You can’t even remember when was the last time you kissed the father of your child, but you didn’t think that such a small act would have such a lingering effect.

You thought you were over this. Over him. That chapter was closed a long, long time ago.

You look up at the cause of this unexpected interaction, your daughter’s short attention span keeping her focused on her doodle while she hums to herself.

Sukuna returns with his head held high a few minutes after, and plops down on the sofa with his weight prompting you to bounce lightly in place.

That’s when you felt it, a hint of cold hitting your brow like a tiny droplet of rain.

Your furrow your brows then notice that your Sukuna’s hair is actually damp, with little tears trickling down the back of his neck.

The tips of his ears are still burning red.

You part your lips in awe.

Sukuna is a master at making you blush. At making any woman blush, frankly. But you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen that reaction on him.

It stuns you how much it suits him, and surprises you even more of just how cute he looks trying to hide it.

“Daddy, can you help me?” Your daughter asks, finally focusing back on the two of you while her finger draws out an outline of what appears to be two arms.

“Whatever you want, Princess…” Sukuna responds, and obediently gets up from his seat.

He perches himself on the floor, the size difference between him and your little girl doing nothing to help the sudden hammering in your chest.

He’s so, so gentle with her.

She crawls onto his lap, holding the sheet of paper in her hand, before setting herself back up while sitting on his thighs.She points to the drawing with her index finger, “I don’t know how to draw your tattoos…”

Sukuna chuckles, a glimpse of his smile making you to scratch the warmth off the back of your neck.

He picks up a black pencil, “you’re a better artist than me, kid,” he states honestly, “not quite sure what I can do to help…”

She wraps her arms around his neck, leaving her dad to carry on the effort.

“I’ll explain the shapes and you draw it!” She says with a kiss to his cheek.

It’ll never cease to amaze you how easily he bends to her will. Sukuna had no interest in any of this, and was obstinate in every sense of the word. Nothing could turn that man into a docile cat except when it comes to your little girl. He’s present with her, this part of him just so different, and even after five years it still feels a tad unfamiliar.

There’s a slight tightness in your throat because this is all you wanted when you were together. After the break up and surprise pregnancy, you didn’t realize how hard he took it when you told him that you have zero expectations of him being involved in your daughter’s life. You were just informing him out of moral obligation, but something switched on inside him after that.

It may not have been for you, but he made that change for her, and seeing them together now, you recognize just how much that man loves his little girl.

That fact alone makes you undeniably happy.

So happy you wish you could give him a real kiss for it.

Your daughter moves to pat his head in gesture of a good job as Sukuna follows her instructions to the T, but her faces scrunches with disgust when she threads her fingers between his locks.

“Daddy, why is your hair wet?”

Sukuna brings his free hand to massage the back of her scalp, “Pay attention to the drawing, missy…and stop asking so many damn, I mean uh-darn questions…” he responds, leaving a kiss on her brow and doing everything in his power to make sure that he avoids looking back at you.

tag: @selarina @yuujispinkhair @blush-bambi @tojislittleprincesss

[amuseoffyre]

I’m emotionally ruined by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t broken out of his heavenly conditioning. He still loves doing good. He gets happy when people tell him he’s an angel and says “it’s nice to tell people about the good things you’ve done now that I’m not reporting to Heaven”. He will literally put himself in harm’s way to make sure he does the Good and Right thing.

It can’t be understated how much Heaven’s influence still impacts on him. Aziraphale has been created, ordained and conditioned to believe it and he can’t just switch it off or walk away. Crowley didn’t get the choice. He was Fallen. He was kicked out and - as per the rules of toxic and terrifying cults - Aziraphale was always told for centuries and millennia, Falling was the worst thing that could happen. If you’re bad, you’ll be forced out. If you’re bad, you’re not one of Us. You’re one of Them.

When he did something he perceived as Right (ie. saving innocent children from death), but knew it wasn’t what Heaven intended, he broke down. Crowley found him a crying, shaking wreck afterwards because he was so convinced he was Evil. He was so convinced he was going to be dragged to Hell and that he was now a demon because he did one thing that saved some children but because it wasn’t a specific directive, it was Bad.

It shapes so much about him and it’s why the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it. He’s happy and excited and he’s doing his human-life things and having a lovely time, but he’s also constantly stressed because of the Need To Do Good. From the moment Gabriel turns up, he’s a nervous wreck and is trying to hide it by Doing Good, by Solving the Problem, by Fixing Things, by being so active and reactive rather than letting himself think about it. It’s a sign of exactly how frantic he is that he starts giving away his books and letting humans touch them.

Watch his face when the Archangels show up unexpectedly: that isn’t joy. That’s blind terror. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing in Heaven’s eyes, even though he made the active choice to do so because it was the Right thing to do. He’s a Guardian and he will protect, but he is so very afraid of the repercussions, even now. 

At the end of S1, Crowley said “they’re gearing up for the big one” so Aziraphale’s not oblivious. He knows a big one is coming. He knows something worse than the Antichrist will be on its way. And he’s trying so hard to pretend that everything is normal and fine and if he ignores all the looming bad stuff, it won’t happen. If we don’t say anything about it, nothing has to change.

But then the changes come knocking at his door holding a box and the choice is gone. He can keep trying to blinker himself to it, but then there are angels and demons in the bookshop and he’s had to use his halo and everything is falling apart.

So when he realises that he can get himself into a position where he can guarantee those repercussions won’t happen to Crowley? He will absolutely take it. He says himself “I don’t want to go back to Heaven”, but the instant the Metatron offers him a free pass for Crowley, to take Crowley out of both Heaven and Hell’s sightlines, to keep him safe (Another bee inside the hive, if you will), no wonder he grabs it with both hands.

The tragedy is that Crowley thinks that when they saved the world together, that was the end of Heaven’s influence in Aziraphale. When he was cast out the split between him and Heaven was sharp and clean. He doesn’t - he can’t - understand how deeply it has tangled around Aziraphale. It’s built into Aziraphale’s entire being and unravelling it isn’t that simple. Aziraphale’s trauma is a horrible, terrible Gordian knot and Crowley can’t understand that he couldn’t simply cut through it, because that’s just not how Aziraphale works.

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

I hope you know you've given me puppy hybrid Bakugou brain rot, so you get another ask as a repercussion u3u

Whats the scenario or head canon of why we had to start putting a muzzle on hybrid Bakugou when going out? Did he bite, start a fight, did something out of spite? (Yes, that was a purposeful rhyme)

Gimme the tea 🫖

Blue? Wolf? Angel? 01? However you wish to be referred to, I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BIG SMART BRAIN MWA MWA. Also this got long hehehe

Warnings: bratty kid, animalistic Bakugou, wounds, reader passes out

I imagine Katsuki would have to start wearing the muzzle as soon as he left the shelter. In my AU, he was in a fighting ring (original, I know), so he still snaps when he gets frightened or angry. He doesn’t mean to, not in the slightest. But when you have to fight to the death for scraps, or a ratty blanket to keep you warm in a cramped and filthy dog cage, it becomes a nasty habit.

You try to keep it off him as much as possible unless you’re going out. It was a very long process to get him to relax even slightly with you, which was honestly a feat in of itself.

You listen to his body language. He comes to you when he has a problem. If he tenses when you’re petting him, you retract your hand and wait for the signal for you to continue, if any. You leave his food alone, because it’s his. You allow him to nap, knowing the poor creature needs some proper sleep.

It’s easier in the privacy of your own home, in a comforting environment that Bakugou can explore a million times over and never find anything new. In public though, when the screaming child demands to touch his sensitive tail, or when the shih tzu hybrid is sniffing him, it can be so overwhelming for the pup.

“Are you all ready to go, sweet thing?” You smile at your new puppy boy.

Katsuki growled lowly, his collar and leash loose on his neck. The muzzle was wrapped around his lower face, protecting himself from a future lawsuit. He tugged at the metal bars irritatedly. You sigh in empathy.

“I know, sweetpea. I’m afraid that until the padded muzzle comes, it has to be the one provided by the shelter. On the bright side, you can come outside for a walk! It’s a lovely day outside and you can meet the neighbours!” You explain happily.

Katsuki chuffs and rolls his eyes, walking ahead and pulling you on the leash as you squeak in surprise.

“See, I told you it was nice! How’s your collar feeling, honey?” You ask him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him. Katsuki’s pupils were blown with all sorts of new smells and sounds.

He never knew what squirrels sounded like. They scurried in the trees a lot more delicately than the rats in the compound. The screams of children were from fun as their parents chased and played with them. The new pups in the compound were snatched from their mother and sold or… Katsuki shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that place any more.

It was all so bewildering for him, but he seemed to be enjoying it as he threw you a nod.

“Aw I’m so glad!” You laugh softly. You stop near the local convenience store, the thought of a cold ice cream tickling your fancy. You call out to Katsuki to stop as he obeys.

“Do you fancy an ice cream? It’s such a hot day today, and you’ve taken everything in so wonderfully,” you ask him.

Katsuki cocked his head, not knowing what “ice cream” was. He had sometimes heard his old handlers talk about it, but he’d never been able to try any. You felt a pang of guilt at the realisation that he’d never had the sweet treat.

“Let’s go and get you one. I’m sure you’ll like it,” you promise him softly, allowing him to walk in first. He jumped slightly at the little ding-dong of the door, growling at it as you explained what it was.

Despite his grumbling and the occasional bark, he was behaving himself remarkably.

The ice cream freezer was thankfully stocked full to the brim, with flavours of nearly every description.

“Ah, here they are! I hope they have some that’s hybrid friendly. Katsuki, why don’t you come take a look and see what you want to try,” you encourage him. Katsuki froze a little. You were… giving HIM the choice? Was this some sort of trap? Your soft smile made him feel slightly at ease.

Plus, you would never hit him in a store, right?

He takes a look at the flavours in the freezer, entranced by the huge red strawberries and slabs of chocolate. He was about to grab an ice lolly with a motif of a raspberry when a shriek pierces his ears.

His hands slap to his head, covering the fluffy things as he snaps his head at the source. He lets out an automatic growl as his teeth curl back. A small child, not much older than 6 is staring back at him with a delighted look. In his sticky hand held a melting ice lolly.

“Doggy!” He shrieks excitedly, jumping up and down. A woman, whom you presume is his mother, is taking a phone call further down the aisle.

Katsuki pressed further into you when the kid tries touching him with sticky fingers. You immediately stand in front of him, trying to calm the puppy boy down and deal with the kid.

“Hi there sweetie, I’m sorry but Katsuki doesn’t like being touched,” you try to explain carefully, getting on the child’s level. You’re taken aback when the little monster’s face goes red and he lets out an ear-piercing scream that has Katsuki starting to hyperventilate a bit.

“NO! WANT TO PET THE DOGGY! MAMAAAA!” The kid wails, the woman walking to her son. She looks you up and down as she holds her son by the shoulders.

“What seems to be the problem here?” She sneers. You make sure Katsuki has space to cool down as you try to explain.

“Your son here is trying to pet my hybrid, but that is not something that he is comfortable at all with, so I’m trying to explain-” you were cut off by the woman.

“So? The beast is muzzled and leashed, why can’t my angel pet him?” She gave you a dirty look, as if she could look past your puppyboy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Katsuki is really not comfortable with that. It’s his first time out of the house in a long time and-” you were once again cut off by the woman’s snooty laughter.

“Well if he’s such a ‘rabid beast’ then he shouldn’t be out of the house,” she snarls viciously. You didn’t even notice the kid sneaking behind you until Katsuki lets out a vicious growl, and the sound of 2 screams fill the air.

Katsuki waited for the paramedics to bandage you up as they took you to hospital. They found you bleeding in Katsuki’s arms, his claw marks identical to the ones in your chest.

Turns out the little bastard had snuck behind you and yanked on Katsuki’s leash. Being already wound up and anxious, the sharp leash tug threw him into a frenzy as he instinctively went to claw the threat. You pushed the kid off in time, taking the blow instead.

Katsuki could only stare at you as cotton filled his mouth. His mouth twitched as he started trembling. He had … hurt you…

Your shriek of pain could never leave his head, him not even registering that he had made you bleed until the metallic smell hit his nose. The kid started wailing after being shoved on the floor, the mother picking him up and running away.

You look at him, then at the blood and you try to smile. You swallow, the shock of the pain making it difficult to see.

“D-don’t worry K’s’ki! I do- I don’ blame you,” you start to slur out, the shock and blood loss making you woozy. You slump against your pup, breathing shallow and light. Katsuki whined anxiously, looking for help.

A witness in the same aisle came forward slowly, aware of Katsuki’s hyperventilating and anxious state. He clutched you close to him, sitting on the ground as he trembled and nosed your face. Blood was everywhere, staining everything.

The customer slowly made his way to Katsuki, clicking her tongue softly to get his attention. Katsuki looked wild as he snarled savagely, pulling you tighter. She held her hands up slowly, demonstrating she wasn’t a threat.

“I’m going to call for help. I need to make sure that your owner is okay. I’m going to be super duper careful to make sure I don’t hurt them any more. You can still hold them, I just need to make sure their pulse is still there. Is that okay?” She spoke slowly and calmly, getting emergency services on her phone.

Katsuki snarled, but the claws digging into you relaxed slightly. The customer let a small smile out as she checked your pulse and referred everything back to the emergency services. She was slow and methodical, careful not to move too quickly and scare the trembling pup.

“There we go, all done. I saw everything you know,” she said quietly, kneeling near the two of you. Katsuki whined quietly, chuffing your hair.

“You were scared, and that monster of a boy didn’t listen. There are cameras everywhere, so I’m certain nothing will happen,” she said firmly.

Her hand slowly lifted up, paying close attention to his body language. Her hand slowly found refuge in his hair, slowly petting his ears. Katsuki could feel his heartbeat slow down, just for a moment, before it spiked again at the sound of the siren of the ambulance.

The paramedics filtered through with animal control, surprised to see a muzzled hybrid already collared and leashed holding on to the patient. The lead paramedic slowly approached you, the uniform and sterile smell making Katsuki snarl loudly and pinning you back to him. His eyes were like pin pricks as he held you tight.

“Heyyy, there you go buddy. Is that your owner there?” The paramedic questioned him quietly, bringing the cart to carry you beside her. Katsuki snarled as they got closer.

“I know, I know. It must be scary being in this situation. The lady on the phone told me what happened. You didn’t mean it, did you?” the paramedic prayed her words were getting through to him.

It seemed her prayers were answered when his grip lets loose slightly.

“You were frightened, weren’t you? The kid yanked on your leash? That must have hurt,” she murmured to him, getting more on his level. She was making slow progress to you, getting anxious when she sees the amount of blood lost.

“But now your owner is hurting. Can we take them to get all fixed up? You can ride with us in the ambulance,” she promised, holding her hand out. Katsuki growled, but with a small whine, relinquished his grasp on you.

The paramedic smiled at him, slowly picking you up as she dashed you to the cart, strapping you in as she rushed you to the ambulance outside. Katsuki whined and followed you, desperate to keep your pained face in his vision.

He rode with you the entire way to the hospital, whining when he couldn’t see past the curtain of the emergency room.

The next few hours were hell. He sat next to the curtained room, jumping up when the nurse talks to him.

“You’re very lucky. The wounds were relatively deep, but it was the shock that made them pass out. We stitched up the wound, so now we’re going to monitor your owner in a different room. Would you like to come with?” He asked. Katsuki nodded frantically.

He couldn’t help the whimper when he saw your bed being wheeled out, the bandages reaching a good way across your chest. You were docked into your new room. All Katsuki could do was wait for you to wake up.

Katsuki was a mess. He couldn’t stop whimpering to himself, scared shitless. You were the only person to ever treat him with such kindness, to talk to him like a person and not a dog. You were kind, and gentle, and-

Probably gonna hand him back to the shelter. He knew what that meant though, considering this was his ‘saving grace’. He wouldn’t get any more chances. He tried to toughen himself up, beating his leg in rage as he prepares himself for your rage.

The rage, however, never came. Katsuki must have fallen asleep, since he was awoken by the gentle call of his name. His head snapped up, mixed emotions when he sees your confused orbs.

“What… happened?” You slurred out, sleep still overtaking your system. Your eyes snapped open at the recollection of events.

“Oh god! Are you alright?!” You gasp. Katsuki looked at you dumbfounded. His body trembled. Even when he had hurt you… made you pass out… you still wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Your eyes softened as tears breached his waterline, making his beautiful lashes clump together.

“No no no no, sweet thing! What’s wrong?!” You coo at him, sitting up. He looks pointedly at your chest. You let out an “oh”.

“Katsuki, this wasn’t your fault. That little boy wouldn’t leave you alone, completely ignoring that I said to leave you alone. He still did, despite you being clearly upset and went to yank on your leash! I couldn’t have them take you away from me, so I chose to take the blow instead,” you said firmly, placing a gentle hand on his clenched fist.

“I would do it a million times over for you,” you murmured to him, softly wiping his tears. He flinched slightly, before shakily nuzzling his hand into your palm.

“You’re my good boy, my sweet Katsuki,” you preen, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. His chest rumbles as he slowly ambles into your bed. He makes eye contact with you, something within him trying to force himself to stop. Your warm eyes don’t however, simply shifting along to make room.

He cuddles into you, careful of your wound as he licks your neck gently.

“M-miiiine,” he tried, the word new as it rolled on his tongue. Your head snapped to him, amazed at his first word. Your eyes watered as you pressed a kiss to his head.

“That’s right, puppy. You’re mine.”

@archer-fb had to expand the first word babe 🤭

[beautifulbrainrot]

aaron hotchner x gn!reader

cw 18+ sub!hotch, dom!gn!reader, reader refers to strap as their cock, light spanking, spit as lube, i think that’s it

requested by @inator-procrast 💋

prompt : i’ve never done this before so i’m afraid you’ll have to guide me

———

you sighed as hotch snapped at the team for the fifth time today. you knew he was going through shit at home but that definitely didn’t give him an excuse to be a dick at work, especially to his team who were doing their best.

“okay, i know hotch is having issues at home, but this is insane.” emily complained, watching hotch storm off to his office.

“i know he’s not doing well but it’s unfair that he’s taking it out on us..” spencer replied.

you nodded and sighed again. “i’ll go talk to him.” you announced, standing up from your desk and making your way to his office. you knocked on his door before opening it and stepping in the room. he looked up at you from the mountain of paperwork on his desk, a pissed off expression on his tired face.

“hotch, i know things aren’t good at home but you have no right to take it out on us. we’re doing our best and your demands are not helping. we’re all tired of it.”

he sighed and looked up at you with the same pissed off expression.

“you know what, mabye you should just go home and get some rest. i don’t have time for this.” he spat, looking back down at his work.

okay, now you were fucking pissed. you weren’t the kind of person who put up with other people's bullshit, not matter who they were.

too annoyed to think about the repercussions, you walked behind his desk and grasped the short strands of hair at the back of his head and yanked his head up away from his work.

“i really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, aaron hotchner. either keep your personal feelings at home, or learn how to work with us as a team.”

your eyes narrowed as he looked up at you, expecting to see the same pissed off expression on his face. instead you were met with a soft, guilty expression as he muttered an apology. focused on his face, you almost didn’t notice the way he shifted slightly in his seat nervously and unconsciously leaned into your firm touch.

something about the way he was looking at you like a kicked puppy tugged at your heart strings, prompting you to lean down and capture his lips in a soft kiss.

“good boy..” you whispered as you pulled away.

his eyes widened as you moved away from him, his cock throbbing in his dress pants at the nickname. you bit your lip as you noticed his bulge. it wasn’t the first time you had thought of him this way but you had never thought you would have a chance with him, especially a chance at dominating him.

“you liked that didn’t you..” you purred, stroking the back of his head where you had pulled moments before.

he nodded softly, almost bashfully, a word you never thought you would use to describe the renowned unit chief of the bau.

“want me to take care of you baby? relieve some of that stress?” you asked softly, moving your hands to massage his shoulders softly.

he whimpered quietly, so quiet you almost missed it and sighed.

“close the blinds.”

-

you kissed him feverently, drinking in his soft grunts and moans as you ran your hands over his body. you quickly flipped him round, so he was bent over the desk with you behind him.

“do you want this?” you asked gently, rolling your hips forward into his ass softly.

he nodded against the desk, panting hard. “i-i’ve never done this before so i'm afraid you’ll have to guide me..”

“okay baby..” you undid his belt and pulled down his trousers and pants. you stroked your hand over his bare ass and layed a light smack to his cheek that had him jumping slightly and whining brokenly.

“this isn’t ideal, but i don’t have any lube with me. i’ll take it nice and slow, but you tell me if you're uncomfortable at any point baby.”

he nodded before you smacked him lightly again.

“words aaron.”

“yes! yes, i understand, just please.. i need you..” he whimpered. you smirked and bit your lip at his broken tone.

“didn’t realise you’d be such a needy baby.” you laughed, slicking your fingers with spit before pushing one into him.

it didn’t take long before you had him a whining mess on the desk, ready to take you.

“are you ready baby? ready for my cock?”

“i’m ready!” he moaned out his cock hard, and leaking over his desk, staining the dark wood.

you rubbed the tip of the fake cock against his hole, before gently pushing in. a desperate moan fell from his lips, a sound you were desperate to hear again. you pushed yourself in further, until you had fully situated yourself inside of him.

“please- oh god.. please move!” he choked out, adjusting to the feeling of being so full.

you smirked and pulled out, slightly before gently pushing back in. he moaned loudly, his deep voice breaking as he pleaded with you for more. you obliged, pulling out further and pushing in deeper over and over again, leaving him a moaning, whimpering mess on the desk.

every thrust had his cock rubbing against the desk, his first orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave, a chorus of deep moans falling from his bitten lips. aaron had never experienced such intense pleasure in his life, the godly sensation overwhelming him and pushing him into another orgasm, cum covering the dark wood of the desk and the soft flesh of his exposed stomach where his dress shirt had ridden up.

you gently massaged his shoulders and back as your fucked him, massaging out the stress he had been carrying as you thrusted into him deeply. aaron felt more relaxed and blissed out than he had ever felt in his entire life as you took care of him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he was overtook with pleasure.

you finally slowed down your thrusts as he collapsed against the table, completly relaxed, and pulled yourself out of him gently. you helped him off the cum stained table and onto his sofa where you pulled his pants back up and cleaned him up the best as you could with tissues.

you admired the blissed out expression on his face and smiled softly as you tidied up his office. you let him rest on the sofa while you rearranged his desk, eventually falling asleep on top of it, dreams full of him.

-

“wow, hotch is looking much better today..” emily mused as she watching him walk to his office from the kitchen.

“yeah i think i saw him crack a smile earlier!” morgan laughed, leaning back in his chair. he raised his eyebrows as he turned to where you were walking in, coffee in hand, trudging over to your desk.

“you okay? guess hotch's bad mood transfered over to you.”

you rolled your eyes at him before placing your coffee down at your desk and plopping down in your chair. you leaned back slightly so you could look up into hotch’s office, smiling at him as he worked on his paperwork, looking much more relaxed than before.

———

dont know if i like this, but i hope you do bestie!!! 💋

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You suffer through the repercussions of Christmas morning, a new year begins, and Polly provides some interesting insight.

Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, yelling

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 12: Nobody Knows

So help me find my way, the way I came from. ‘Cause I’m feeling lost and afraid, you better not be too far gone. Oh, have I been so wrong? Missed the song? Still I don’t know where I belong. No I don’t know. Because no one really knows me, at all.  — Nobody Knows, Autograft, WYNNE

You ran through the garden toward the temple, sure the sacred grounds would bring you some solace. “You betrayed me!” You shouted behind you, tears pouring down your face. 

Closing your eyes, you once again saw the shower of arrows fall from the sky, then a plague of sickness run through your lands. You saw death on the sands of your beaches, fires raging through the cities. You felt the whips and thrashes of pain across your body, the screams surrounding you until you fell to the floor with your hands over your ears. 

“Cassandra.” The beautiful voice of your love boomed from behind you. On your knees, you opened your eyes and you were back in your palace, the peaceful night continuing as it had before. You turned, peering up at the figure, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Weak, your voice came out in a whisper. “What did you do to me?” 

He smiled. “I blessed you with a gift of my own rarity.”

You shook your head, the tears still falling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt. “I’ve seen your arrows — how could you?”

“Cassandra—“

“Back!” You voice stronger now as your fear fueled your adrenaline. “I didn’t want this! How could you do this to me?” 

He reached out to you, “Our future is together—“

A sob left your lungs as the images wouldn’t stop from behind your eyes. “All I see is destruction. Demise. Death. How could I love someone who allows such things to happen?” 

Patience turned into anger. Your god stood to his full height as the rage froze his eyes. “If you don’t want our future together, then you’ll have no future at all. I curse you, Cassandra!”

——

“You in there love?” 

You gasped awake, eyes searching around you as you tried to determine where exactly you were. Slowly, your brain began to recognize your surroundings. 

Tommy’s room felt different than it had before. You looked down at the bed, evidence in the tussled sheets of where you’d finally fallen asleep — but the bed and room was otherwise empty. 

A soft tapping brought you back, the door opening slowly as Polly poked her head in. 

“They’ve just gotten back,” she said, taking in your obviously confused expression as you finally sat up on the bed fully. 

You looked to see the open bottle on the nightstand accompanied by two empty glasses and the cigarette case you’d given him. That’s when you began to recall the events of the night. 

“I need you,” Tommy had whispered with his forehead pressed against yours, your legs in his lap as he held you against him. 

For a moment your brain tried to determine how exactly he meant that — was it business, pleasure, or something more. The way his lips pushed against yours swept the thought away, and an involuntary “I’m yours” came out as a breathy reply. 

His grip tightened in response, soft touches turned needy as your fingers worked on the buttons of his vest, his on your dress. You were in just your slip, him in his trousers, when you fell to your back against the mattress, pulling his body with you. 

“Tommy!” A shout from the other side of the door accompanied by an urgent knock caused you both to gasp away from each other. “We got trouble!”

Tommy jumped off the bed as your head fell back against the pillow, a huff leaving your lungs. “This has to be a cosmic joke at this point, I swear—“ 

He hushed you as he grabbed his gun from the holster on the hook before cracking open the door. 

“It’s Russel. We’ve been fuckin’ had,” you could hear Arthur from the other side of the door, Tommy standing in the way of the crack to keep you hidden, though you were sure his disheveled state was evident. “Put ‘our cock away and get dressed.” 

Tommy shut the door, running his hand through his hair as he turned back toward you, already offering him his discarded shirt. “Fuck,” he swore, pulling you into him for another searing kiss before he finally pushed away and took the shirt. You smirked as you watched the material cover the red smear from your lipstick on his neck and collarbone, internally groaning that he had to leave now, just when things were finally getting somewhere. 

You shook your head, trying to get it out of your vagina and back into the realities that something bad must be happening. 

“I was worried this would happen,” Tommy muttered as he pulled his shoes on. “Fuckin’ coppers.”

Standing up, you reached for your dress that’d pooled on the floor next to your shoes. 

“What are you doing?”

Your brow creased, “Getting dressed, I should go home—” 

“No,” he cut you off, grabbing the dress from your hands and throwing it over the arm of the chair. “I’ll walk you home when I get back, but you’re safer here.” 

“You think I’m in danger?” This copper wouldn’t know your involvement in the situation, you couldn’t reason why tonight would be any less safe than any other night you’d walked home from the Garrison. 

“Don’t know, but I’ll think straighter knowin’ you’re here with Pol and the family than out there,” he answered, securing his shoulder holster and checking the round of his revolver. “Sleep,” he added as he threw on his jacket. “I’ll wake you up when I get back.” 

And with that, he left. You’d tried to stay awake as long as you could, your neediness for him slowly turning into worry the later it got. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep. 

Finally catching up to what Polly had said, you looked out the window to fully recognize the beginnings of sunlight. “They just got back?” 

“Aye, they’re in the kitchen. They’re alright, just beat a bit.” 

Your eyes widened at her words, prompting you to scramble out from the covers and hustle toward the door. 

“Oi, get dressed first!” she snapped, stopping you as she gestured toward your discarded dress still on the chair. “You go down there in this slip of a thing and you’ll give ‘em all heart attacks. There,” she added, helping you finish the buttons and manage your hair. 

She turned back toward the door and reached for the handle. You took a step, ready to follow her, but stopped when she paused before turning the knob. Your brow furrowed as she turned back toward you, her eyes doing a quick scan of your face. 

Suddenly worried that the situation was more dire than she’d let on, your heart began to race faster. “What are you—“

“You care for him, truly?” she asked you, this time her eyes not leaving yours as she waited for your reply.

You opened your mouth to answer, but closed it when your throat felt suddenly thick, and you swallowed instead. 

“I pity you then,” she said when you didn’t answer, then turned back toward the door. “Come on, now. Let’s go figure out what the bloody hell happened.” 

Polly lead down the stairs, your brain ping ponging between what state Tommy and his brothers might be in after being out the whole night, and why the older woman would pity you. 

Your over analysis came to a halt when you both finally breached the kitchen doorway, your eyes immediately finding Tommy. 

The first thing you noticed was the bright red splattering against his white collar and shirt. You followed the trail from his neck to his collarbone, bright red blood replacing where your dark red lipstick had been just a few hours before. Swallowing, you examined the rest of him — his knuckles were beaten, the sleeves of his shirt a mixture of smeared blood and dirt stains. But other than a deep cut on the hood of his cheek bone and the early signs of bruising along the jaw, he seemed to be okay. 

You let out a relieved breath as your eyes finally met with his, knowing he’d been watching you as you took him in. The white of his eyes were red, causing his usual brilliant blues to appear icier than ever. They were wild, feral even, like nothing you’d yet seen. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Ada!” Arthur shouted, causing you to finally break your stare and address the room fully. 

“Shut up, you’ll make it bleed again!” Ada shouted back, shoving a soaked cloth to the piece of Arthur’s lip that was split pretty badly. 

Next to them, John held another cloth to his nose to stop the bleeding, a similar sign of a bruise against the edge of his eye that’d birth a nasty shinner by the end of the day. 

“What the bloody hell happened?” Polly asked, throwing Tommy a wet cloth as he began to clean off his knuckles. 

“Russel was sellin’ information to the sloggers in Digbeth,” Tommy replied, throwing the cloth aside and reaching for the box of cigarettes in the middle of the table. 

“Fuckin’ double dealin’ on the both of us,” Arthur added, hissing when his lip began to bleed again. Ada smacked his arm and pushed the cloth against him. 

Tommy took a long drag, “They found out first, tried to use him to lure us into a trap. When our men went after him last night, they were waitin’.” 

“Any dead?” Polly asked, starting the kettle — acting as if she’d asked a perfectly normal question. 

“Not any of ours,” John answered proudly. “They held ‘em off ‘til we got there.” 

“Got a few ‘fore the rest went runnin’ with their cocks ‘tween their legs—“

“Shut up, Arthur!” Ada shouted when his lip began to bleed again. 

Polly handed you a cup and you realized you hadn’t moved, still standing just on the perimeter of the kitchen. Tommy was still watching you as the family talked. 

“And Russel?” Polly asked, pulling out one of the family books. 

“Dead,” John answered, “Charlie already took care of him and the others. Left some of the boys to man the territory ‘til we can clean ‘em out for good.” 

“We’ll need lodgings for our men in the area to establish a stronghold. And you’ll need to get to the other coppers on our payroll,” Polly added, scribbling in the book. 

The conversation faded into the background as you met Tommy’s eyes again. Expecting the wildness of when you first walked in, you were surprised to see his expression softer now. You’d always been so good at reading people, but Tommy had been an enigma to you since the moment you laid eyes on him. 

He stood, and the motion snapped your brain back to the company of the room. “Come on,” he said, walking toward you and reaching for your back, only to clasp his hand and pull it back to himself. His jaw clenched as he instead moved toward the door, “I’ll walk you home.” 

You looked around, everyone sort of half watching as you and Tommy left the room. You hadn’t said a word since you left Tommy’s bedroom, and truthfully you’d have no clue what to say anyway. 

Your mind was still trying to come up with something when you and your escort made it to your apartment, faster than you expected. Because it was still so early, the streets were as quiet and bare as they’d ever be. You were about to invite Tommy up to your apartment, not ready for your time together to end, when he finally spoke up, cigarette still between his teeth. 

“Best to stay away from the shop for a while. Polly or Ada can bring you the books to audit here.”

Your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. “Why?”

He took a puff before pulling the stick from his lips, his eyes looking everywhere but to you. “Because I say.”

“Tommy—“

“Because I fuckin’ say, alright?” Tommy’s eyes snapped to yours, the harsh tone in his voice forcing your back to straighten. “I pay you for a job and you’re gonna fuckin’ do it the way I tell ya, eh?”

The verbal assault had you stunned, but you quickly recognized his words for what they truly were. He was speaking to you the same as he had in the wagon knowing it’d upset you, but this time there was no sign of an apology, or something vaguely adjacent. He was purposely pushing you away, and the thought turned your confusion into anger. 

Where had the vulnerable man who’d held you not more than five hours ago gone?

Throwing his cigarette butt to the ground, Tommy turned to leave. 

“What the hell happened to you last night?” you asked softly, mostly to yourself. 

He rounded back on you, his eyes wild once again as he raised his voice. “This is me, Y/N! This is who I fuckin’ am. Now you’ve seen me, and you’ll stay away when I tell ya to.”

Your mouth snapped shut as you held eye contact for a moment longer, despite the burn you felt behind your own. His turned from wild, to remorseful, to cold once more before he turned to leave again, this time not looking back. 

Now you’ve seen me, you repeated his words in your head as you watched him walk down the lane. He thought you disapproved, or you were disgusted, with the surlier side of the Shelby business. 

Was he wrong? 

It wasn’t like you were sensitive or anything to violence. With the way it was woven into most forms of entertainment in your day, it was hard to avoid — whether it was in video games, tv shows, movies, or even sports, you were no stranger to both real and fake injuries. But there was something different about seeing the Shelby brothers in person all cut, bruised, and bloody, knowing how they’d gotten that way that made you realize how different this was from anything you’d been exposed to before. 

And honestly, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Of course part of you was scared, for both yourself and the people you’d come to care for here. Meanwhile, the other part of you tried to rationalize that this was the way of the world, or at least the Shelby’s world. You’d learned a long time ago that the world wasn’t black and white — that there were shades of grey that were circumstantial and layered in intent and values and point of views. 

While you didn’t know yet the full backstory of how the Shelbys came to be where they were now, the little information you did know painted an understanding that part of the circumstances with Tommy was grounded in some way with survival against poverty, racism, classism. There was a road the Shelbys had traveled to get where they were now, and you knew that part of it was paved in violence. 

You watched as Tommy finally disappeared from sight, swallowing thickly as you retreated with a shaky hand into the building. 

——

The next week went by quietly. You’d followed Tommy’s instructions of not coming by the shop, throwing yourself instead into the pub. You found yourself reverting back to the habits you’d made prior to meeting Tommy — though this time you had one more thing to obsessively overthink about during the quieter parts of the day. 

Luckily, the pub was busier than ever. Factory worker strikes were growing more rampant, and a common group seemed to find base in the Garrison booths right after the whistles blew. After a few days, you overheard one of the men call another “Freddie” and turned in time to see the greeting and identity of Ada’s mystery man and Tommy’s former best friend. 

You didn’t let yourself linger, not yet sure what information Ada had told him about you, so you continued on with your business as usual. But you still allowed yourself a few stolen glances and discrete eavesdropping out of pure curiosity. 

Aside from that, the holidays also played a role in the Garrison’s popularity as you geared up for New Years Eve, a night Harry anticipated would be three-times busier than it had the year previously. 

The work was good though — not only did it keep your mind busy, but it kept your body tired, which made sleep come easier. That, and the fact that your dreams seemed to stop — something you didn’t necessarily notice right away. 

And yet, even with all your work and distractions, you still found yourself every night expecting to see Tommy walk through the pub doors. 

New Years Eve night was the first instance where you caught a glimpse of any Shelby family member since Christmas morning. The crowd was so thick both you and Harry found yourselves working behind the bar. You heard rather than saw Arthur barrel through the door, shouting something about needing a drink to wash away the shit show of a year. You tried to listen closely to the voices to see who was with him, but the crowd volume was too overwhelming to zero in on. Harry had jumped at serving the snug himself, none the wiser to your inner turmoil. 

You were trying really hard not to act as pathetic as you felt when a body pushed through the wall of people against the bar. For a moment your heart leapt, thinking it was Tommy, but deflated when they fully turned to face you. 

“Hey beautiful,” Benji greeted, wide smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. 

“Harry’s already over there to serve you boys,” you answered, giving him the server-smile you’d been dawning all night and gestured toward the snug in between pouring glasses and trying to retain shouts of orders from the others at the bar competing for your attention. 

He shook his head, “I just wanted to come say hi. Busy night, huh?” 

The poor boy was trying to small talk while you were running back and forth behind the bar. You swallowed your annoyance with a mirthless laugh and shrugged your shoulders, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

He laughed, and you were sure he was saying something else, but the sound of John’s laugh through the snug window caused your attention to shift. You glanced in time for Harry to move out of the way of the window, eyes landing on Tommy, who was sitting between his brothers with a set of cards in his hands. When his eyes shifted, possibly to look through the window himself, you turned back toward the crowd of people. You didn’t want him to catch you staring at him, your pride still wounded from your last encounter. 

Benji’s voice calling your name brought your attention back, nearly forgetting he’d been there. “Did you hear me?” 

“Um, no, sorry Benji,” you apologized while waving an acknowledgment to the man who shouted for rum on the other end of the bar top. 

He chuckled, “I’ll try again when the crowd lessens.” 

Doubt that, you said to yourself as Harry fell back behind the bar with you. You chanced a glance toward the window, but the door was properly closed now, causing you to both sigh in relief and disappointment. 

The night ended with the crowd shouting with the sound of the church bells signaling midnight and the beginnings of the new year. Last call came an hour after that. Without you realizing, the Shelby and Peaky Boys had slipped out of the pub some time before closing, and you felt your heart break pathetically at the realization. 

Not that you had any expectations, but you’d come to enjoy the feeling of being a part of something recently. And to not even get a hello from any of them made you feel even lonelier than ever. 

Well, not counting Benji. Who also hadn’t come back like he said he would. 

And now you were officially living in the year 1919. For a brief moment when the realization hit you while cleaning up for the night, you nearly expected something monumental to happen space-time-continuum-wise. 

But the rest of the week went by just the same as it had before New Years. You were five days into the new year when you got to talk to your first Shelby since Christmas. 

Ada arrived at your front door Sunday morning with two company books concealed discreetly in a bag. You didn’t bother asking how she knew it was your day off and instead embraced her warmly. 

“Tommy said to not let you and the book out of my sight, but d’ya mind if I sneak out here to see Freddie while you work?” 

Your brow creased at her question, slightly surprised at the vote of no confidence from Tommy — as if you needed a chaperone to do the job you’d been doing for months now. “Oh, uh, no, that’s fine. I finally saw him at the pub last week, been meaning to tell you.” 

Ada’s eyes widened as she grinned, pulling you to sit with her on your bed. “What’d you think? You didn’t say anything, did you?” 

“Of course not, I didn’t even talk to him. Just overheard him in a booth with some other guys. He seemed nice though.” 

“He is,” she sighed, almost dreamily, and you shook your head at your friend despite the smile on your own face. “I just wish he and Tommy weren’t still at odds. He still won’t even tell me what they fell off about.” 

You hummed in consideration, “Would them being close again make it easier for Tommy to accept you being together?” 

Ada shrugged, “Dunno. Possibly.”  

“Well, don’t waste any more valuable time with me,” you gave her a friendly shove off the bed, causing her to smile again. 

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a few hours!”

After she left, you settled at your small dining table and dove in. 

The books were telling. The holidays seemed to be a very good time for the betting shop, which made sense you supposed with people trying their luck to make as much money as they could before the year end. 

The family books, however, were even more telling. New contacts had made an appearance, both as payers and payees, most of which seemed to be located in Digbeth. By the books, it seemed the Peaky Blinders had officially expanded into the new territory and there was no sign of slowing down. 

You finished the audit just as Ada returned, leaving again promptly and promising to see you later. 

——

Another week went by, the pub crowd slightly smaller but still lively enough to keep you busy. Benji showed up again about half way through the week. 

“I was hopin’ to take you to dinner sometime,” he finally said once you served him his drink. 

You blinked, “Like, a date?”

Immediately you panicked — did people use the word date nowadays? It was the boyfriend conundrum all over again and you were kicking yourself for not having learned more about historical slang or word use. 

Benji didn’t seem bothered by your use of phrase, instead shrugging. “Or we can go see a new picture.”

“Oh—”

“Or both,” he said with a chuckle and friendly smile. “What’ya say?”

“Um, I’m— I’m not sure,” you found yourself answering, surprising yourself. 

Since your first meeting with Benji, you thought you’d be in this position at some point, and at the time knew firmly that you’d have to kindly turn him down or express your disinterest in anything romantic with this guy. 

But now, you found yourself reconsidering. Benji hadn’t been anything but nice and friendly to you since meeting. Sure, the conversations had been flat, but that wasn’t necessarily his fault — you hadn’t really given him much to work with due to your own reservations. 

And maybe you’d been too quick to judge with the whole stealing from the company thing. The optimistic (and pathetically lonely) part of you could convince yourself that his math really had just improved over the months, and he didn’t actually have any nefarious intent. 

It didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome. You were surprised he didn’t have someone already. 

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually agree to go out with him nor turn him down completely. “It’s just I’ve — I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

Benji nodded, still offering you a smile as he set down a coin for his drink. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah,” you said noncommittally, finally giving him a genuine smile of appreciation. 

He smiled back before leaving, giving you a wave as he walked out the door. 

At his absence, you found yourself feeling guilty, thinking of what Tommy would think if he found out you were going on a date. 

You shook your head — to hell with what Tommy thought. You couldn’t keep up with what may or may not have been going on between the two of you. 

It was astonishing when you realized exactly how little time you and Tommy had actually spent together. The time span between that first night at the Garrison and Christmas morning accounted for less than five days. And yet within that time, you’d made out with the man four times and nearly slept with him twice. You felt more connected with him than you’d ever felt with anyone before. And not to mention you’d been tempted to tell him your big secret — hell, Christmas Eve night you’d basically shared the majority of it, just without the time travel aspect. 

All that to say that the total time you’d spent with the man had been tiny in relation to the bigger picture, and yet you could not get him out of your mind. The longer you went without seeing him, the heavier your heart grew and the antsier you became. 

What the hell was the matter with you anyway? The last time you’d been this strung out over a guy had been in high school when your hormones were running rampant and you had absolutely no self-awareness or all the finely honed self-respect you’d built up over the last decade. You weren’t a teenager — you were too old for these flighty and fruitless games. If the man didn’t want to be with you, (or if all he’d wanted was to sleep with you) he should just tell you. 

And now he’d all but banned you from his presence it felt, and your feelings of hurt had officially transitioned into anger. 

Why the hell shouldn’t you go on a date? If you were going to be stuck here, why not have a little fun?

“Benji?” You called, just as the door was starting to close. It opened, and he popped his head back into the pub, his brow up in question. “Dinner might be nice. How’s next week?”

 ——

That Sunday, you were surprised to see it was Polly at your doorstep with the books.

“Morning, love.” She greeted you, shoving the two books into your chest as she walked past you into your apartment. She took a seat at your dining table and began to take off her gloves with a huff, “Ada’s run off again, leaving the book transport to me. Not sure why I’ve got to stay here with you the whole bloody time, but when Thomas insists—“ 

“Did I do something, Polly?” You asked finally, unable to hold it in any longer as you sat down across from her and set the books on the table top. “It’s like Tommy doesn’t trust me anymore.” 

Polly shook her head. “It’s just been chaos with the Digbeth move, that’s all. Half our men are split, leaving the betting shop more vulnerable than we’d all like. It’s nothing you did. Got any tea?” 

Her words were encouraging, but the way she dodged her eyes and reached for her paper half way through still gave you that unsettled feeling. She lifted the paper to begin reading, a silent end to your conversation. Taking the hint, you silently poured you both some tea and began your work. 

But the back of your mind still churned as you went through the monotonous steps of math and pattern checking. Despite Polly’s reasoning, you still felt like you were being punished for something. You felt a level of guilt beneath your mountain of other emotions because despite all the secrets you had shared with Tommy, there was a pretty big one that you still hadn’t shared. Perhaps he’d finally grown tired of waiting, or had officially decided against trusting you after all. 

You physically shook your head as you moved on to the second book, shaking the thought away before you tailspun into a hole that you weren’t prepared to dig yourself out of while company was here. 

The thought made you look up at Polly for a moment, who was still reading through her newspaper meticulously. 

“Polly, can I ask you something?” 

She didn’t look up from her newspaper, “If it’s about Thomas, I can’t help you. That boy’s as unpredictable as ever nowadays.”

“It’s not that. It’s—“ you hesitated, unsure exactly how to approach the situation. Polly lowered her paper and rose an eyebrow. “You told Tommy you thought I was born gypsy.”

She folded up her paper and set it on the table. “I did.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” 

“It wasn’t my place.”

Your brow creased, “But you told Tommy.”

“I made a calculated decision at the time.”

You hummed, nodding as you looked down, then back up. “I’m not related to the Delphi,” you said tentatively, watching her face as you went on. “At least I don’t think so. To be honest, I’m not even positive if I have any Romani blood in me. I don’t really know anything, still.”

Polly didn’t respond, instead sat there in silence as she waited for you to continue. 

“You told Tommy that I had a gift. All because of my tattoo and because I guessed the date of the end of the war—“ 

“That’s not the only reasons,” Polly added, your eyes shooting up to meet hers. “I read your leaves.” 

Your brow creased, “My, what?” 

She nodded to the cup in front of you. “Your tea leaves. It’s always been one of my gifts to read tea leaves.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol,” Tommy’s voice from the other night triggered your memory. “She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.” 

Your eyes drifted to the nightstand, where you knew the small box Madam Despoina had given you was buried beneath your clothes in the drawer. You hadn’t touched it since you put it there, but the square lump was the first things your eyes snapped to whenever you opened the drawer. 

“Wait, isn’t there like an official process to reading leaves?” You countered. Teas and tarot cards were some of the maneuvers your mother had tried to learn herself — but of course when she couldn’t come up with the outcomes she’d wanted, she’d go out and pay ‘experts’ to do her readings for her. Still, she never found what she was looking for. 

The years of built up distrust for anything divination relation was causing you to tense at the conversation, but you forced yourself to really listen to Polly. 

“You always swirl your tea before you finish it, haven’t you noticed?” 

You hadn’t — but now that you thought about it, you realized that you did. You hated the taste of the grains of leaves at the end of your cups, so you always absentmindedly swirled to try and get them to stick to the edges. 

“What did you see?”

Polly began to explain a few of her early readings, how every sign pointed to heavy seer powers and a deep concentration to the far future, though something was always just off about every reading. “They began to change after the war ended, once you’d met Thomas. His changed too.” 

You swallowed. “Tommy didn’t mention that.” 

“I didn’t tell him.” 

You asked why. 

She chuckled, “It wouldn’t have meant anything to him. He doesn’t believe anymore. Deep down he might, but not enough to have convinced him to let you continue working for the company. That your time with us, with him, weren’t over yet.” 

Despite yourself, you scoffed, “You sound like Madam Despoina.” 

Polly smirked. “Did you find what you were looking for with the Delphi?”

“Sort of,” your eyes moved down to your hands. “Madam Despoina believes that speaking to my mother will help.” 

“I thought your family—“

“Dead,” you answered. “Yeah. She gave me something she said can help me talk to her one last time. I haven’t — I can’t bring myself to do it.” 

Polly hummed as she sat back in her seat. “We do believe that those who have left us can visit. Some have the gift to see them, even speak to them. But it can be dangerous. Once you let the spirits in, any spirits, it can be difficult to get rid of them.” 

You nodded, taking her words to heart as you absorbed the information. “I— I’m not a fortune teller. But I do have some knowledge of the future. It’s— it’s complicated.” 

Polly’s chin and brow rose. “Have you told Thomas?”

“Yes. Everything that I can tell.” 

Polly nodded. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, love.” 

You took a deep breath. “Then what’s with the freeze out?”

“It’s his way of protecting you, I assume.” Polly picked up her paper again. “You did react quite poorly Christmas morning — and the boys weren’t even that banged up. Still surprised none of them were shot. You’re going to need tougher skin if you choose to continue with this life. And I wasn’t lying before, the boys have been nonstop since the holidays. Poor Martha can hardly handle it.” 

She lifted the paper between the two of you and you took the signal again to mean the conversation had ended. 

You ended the final book audit having only run through what Polly had said twice. She rose to leave and collected her things. You were curious if she was going to grab your cup, but didn’t give it another glance as she walked toward the door. 

She turned, “Part of tougher skin means defying Tommy’s orders every now and then. It’ll be just Martha and I tomorrow at the house with the kids. We miss you.” 

With that, she gave you a pointed rise of her brow and left. 

You smiled as the door closed, feeling rejuvenated. Fuck Tommy and his orders, you thought, lifting your chin up the same way Polly had. You had your pride, you had your own agency, and you could go visit your friends if you damn well wanted to. Two and a half weeks had been enough of a freeze out, you decided. 

Tomorrow, you’d go back to the Shelby household. And if he showed up, you’d confront Tommy and tell him exactly how you felt. 

>> next chapter

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[sinisterexaggerator]

I'll Put It On Your Tab

Wrecker x Gen! Reader

Warnings: Threats made with a blaster. Violence. Attempted robbery. A broken bone or two. Fluff, and a kiss. "Established" relationship vibes.

962 words

Notes: I decided to write a series of "goodbye" ficlets where the reader takes / removes something from each of CF99 as they part ways, however this one deviated a little bit from that path. In this case, the story is left open-ended.

For you, @allsystemsblue. I know you love Wreck. :D

Crosshair || Echo || Hunter || Tech

---

“I don’t want any trouble,” you pleaded, hands held high above your shoulders with arms bent at the elbows. The masked man before you held his blaster level with your abdomen, making a motion for you to fill his sack with all your credits.

“Everything,” he growled. “Put it in the bag.”

Trembling, you rushed to comply, your hard-earned money being forfeit to this brute who was sure to kill you if you did not obey his brusque command.

Your business was Mantell Mix in Ord Mantell City; you barely made ends meet as a simple street vendor. You had a few faithful customers, some more so than others, but otherwise you lived day-to-day off cartons sold. He was sure to clean you out; you would have to eat your product or starve until tomorrow, though the alternative was death.

You supposed you might just count your blessings and be thankful should he keep his word and spare you.

“Hurry up!” he barked; you jumped despite yourself, dropping your remaining profits on the ground for them to scatter at his feet. You gasped, afraid for any repercussions, immediately falling to your knees before him to quickly gather what you could to placate the increasingly impatient man.

“Karkin’ imbecile!” he hissed, pushing you backward by the heel of his boot. You fell onto your rump, staring up with horrified, wide eyes as he took aim at the space between them, tears threatening to fall as your heart crashed wildly behind your ribs.

“I’m sorry—” you began, tilting your head farther, fear expelled to be replaced with elation as your knight in not-so-shining armor loomed above your attacker, massive arms folded across the broad expanse of his chest.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Wrecker asked, almost comically so. He could not help himself, loving to make an entrance, no matter how dire the situation, it seemed.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, scurrying back on the palms of your hands before you attempted to stand. In that same moment, the perp and his half-filled sack of money swung around, Wrecker squeezing the barrel of his blaster so tightly, that he crushed it under the pressure of his fist.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” the clone demanded beneath his bucket, though this man was nowhere near the height of your darling hero. You watched with bated breath, your would-be robber struggling in vain within his grasp, his mutilated weapon tumbling awkwardly from his grip.

The sack of money had been abandoned, your assailant of the mind he would need both hands to ward off this towering giant who had made it his job to protect you. Though you thought to retrieve what was yours, you did not move a single muscle, watching the scene unfold as you silently thanked your lucky stars.

“Piss off!” the thug seethed, a flurry of motions catching your attention; something glinted in the streetlight above your humble cart.

“Wrecker!” you cried out, a hidden blade unsheathed. He appreciated your warning, but it was not necessary.

A twist and then a crack. The knife was just as easily discarded. The man screamed, though his cry of pain was momentary. Wrecker’s plastoid helmet had met with his skull, knocking him flat in the dirt with a resounding thud.

As soon as he was down for the count, you endeavored to wrap yourself around him; you hugged your rescuer as tightly as you could, though your arms would not even begin to enclose the entirety of his waist.

“Thank you,” you breathed, gazing up. Wrecker chortled nervously, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly, even though his gear was in the way.

“Aww, it wasn’t nothing.” He shyly brushed away your gratitude. Wrecker always felt that way with you – shy -  though he was not sure what it meant.

You reached; you wanted to see his handsome face. He was beautiful to you, regardless of his many scars.

Wrecker obliged, craning his neck so that you might remove his helmet and set it off to the side. He smiled down at you, a twinkle sparkling in the umber depths of his good eye.

For a moment, he seemed proud. “I sure showed him!” he announced happily.

“You did,” you assured him kindly, unable to help yourself as you traced the raised lines spidering across his skin. You repaid his smile with one of your own, turning to rummage through your cart.

“I have something for you,” you said, withdrawing a fresh carton of his favorite treat. You took a piece between your fingers and offered it to him. He hesitated, finally bending down to gingerly take the small kernel between his teeth.

“Mmm,” he hummed, politely chewing with his mouth closed.  You offered another, this time replacing it with a press of your lips to his when he least expected.

Wrecker’s eyes rounded to saucers before he gradually relaxed, the surprisingly gentle man taking up either side of your face in the curves of his palms. His fingers came to rest just beneath your ears, the rebel clone using this opportunity to draw you in.

“This is better than Mantell Mix,” he mumbled against you; you tried to suppress a laugh, having meant to deepen your connection.

Instead, you grinned, opening eyes that had been shut so that you could lovingly regard him. You returned your hand to his face, cradling his jaw. “I owe you my life,” you whispered.

You thought you saw a hint of a blush as he stumbled to reply. "Uhhh- I'll settle for that," he bashfully requested.

You could barely contain your glee as you rose up on your tiptoes to kiss him one more time. "I'll put it on your tab,” you quipped playfully.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!!

“I need you, why do you always leave me?” With Narinder from Cotl with a reincarnated mortal s/o who always dies young? I’m such a sucker for this kind of troupe oh my lawd

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!

Ong this trope is so good it hurts </3

Request more angst/horror prompts here!

.......

"Lamb, you must perform the resurrection ritual again."

"Narinder, it's barely been two days.." With a weary sigh, the sheep closed their gospel book, already becoming irritated with their former master's blunt request. "I may have taken your role as death, but even I have my limits. I can't just do that ritual whenev-"

"I had to bury my spouse yet again."

".....oh." A small pit in formed in their stomach, knowing exactly who he was talking about. "Again? What happened this time?"

"Some fool thought it would be funny to dare [y/n] to eat a deadly dish...and they accepted it, only to die puking their guts out." Narinder huffed, although deep inside it killed him to know that your death this time around was entirely avoidable.

He never thought he'd ever care for a mortal..much less one of Lamb's first followers, who somehow kept dying young and became the first one they resurrected.

Your existence has become a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth, and he wondered when they'll finally accept that you're simply not meant to live a prolonged life.

However, now that he himself was in the cult and wedded to you...he saw things differently. From a new perspective.

After you died once right before his very eyes--and not through the Red Crown--he suddenly understood that same grief Lamb endured ugh after they killed one of their spouses, who became mind-controlled by Shamura.

He thought of them as weak.

But not anymore.

Not when it became his turn to suffer in a similar fashion, counting the hours (or days, even) until Lamb could resurrect you.

He lost count of how many times you've died since then, although he knows you aren't trying to kill yourself on purpose. You were very "accident-prone" and sometimes did stupid things that you shouldn't have---such as accepting a dare to eat a "deadly dish" stew.

You might've been a fool for that, but he still loved you.

Unfortunately, not even the golden skull necklace Lamb gifted you provided any protection from death....besides old age, of course.

At least Narinder knew you'd never pass away naturally, but knowing it couldn't spare you from other causes didn't make him feel any better.

"Fine..I will do the resurrection at dawn." Lamb finally caved, understanding how much you truly meant to him. "But you must talk to [y/n] about this. With each rebirth, they slowly forget more and more of their past lives."

"....is that so?" The black feline raised an eyebrow, surprised.

This was new information to him--although he never exactly had the chance to revive somebody over and over, except for his former vessel whenever they foolishly perished during a crusade.

But they were very different.

They were nigh-immortal...you weren't.

"First they forgot how they previously died, then they forgot which shelter they slept it, and then they forgot how to cook their favorite meal...you see where I'm going with this?"

He didn't speak, afraid that his former vessel was correct. But it's not something he wanted to think about at all...even though it's certainly possible.

Suddenly he was beginning to realize the repercussions of the same doctrine that got him exiled over a millennia ago..

"I can't watch over them all the time..as their spouse you're gonna have to step it up, or else...they might-"

"Just do the ritual, please.."

Lamb's ears flicked up with surprise, never expecting Narinder to grovel at their podium. The only other time he acted this way was when he begged them to kill him instead of sparing his life, although it didn't do him much good as they chose mercy.

But this time, they felt a bit of pity for him.

He must truly care about you.

They simply nodded. "I will need more bones."

.........

You found yourself back in a familiar place:

Floating over a glowing red sigil, followers in hoods kneeling all around you, Lamb's eyes glowing with a powerful energy....and you expelling ichor from your body in a rather disgusting display.

You never did get used to puking out this black magical goop.

But once you landed on the floorboards of the temple, you sighed in relief, wiping your mouth on your sleeve before gazing at everyone surrounding you.

"So...what have I missed?"

A few of them uncovered their hoods and greeted you, happy to see you return to the land of the living. Others kept their distance, looking rather annoyed that Lamb decided to resurrect you for the umpteenth time.

One, however, stood there motionless, refusing to remove his own hood.

You looked to him, watching as he approached you, being unsure of his intentions. Although judging from the way other followers hastily moved out of his way...this person must have held great influence over them.

The fact that he had three glowing red eyes was most alluring.

Have you met him before?

Before you could ask him who he was, he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. "H-Hey! Ouch!" You winced, feeling his claws slightly digging into you as he began dragging you out of the temple.

"Where are you taking me??"

"....stop talking."

His voice was low and quiet, and also....sad?

You were immensely confused by this mystery follower's behavior, especially as he led you to his hut--one that was more decorative than the standard shelters on the other side of the cult grounds.

While you remained silent, you couldn't help being bedazzled by the outside of it, although you didn't have time to really get a good look around the inside.

Because the next thing you knew...

You were pushed onto the bed, with him crawling onto it and laying beside you. Then he uncovered his hood, two long cat ears flicking upwards as his eyes met yours for a brief moment.

And in that split second, you swore they were filled to the brim with tears.

You blinked, afraid to speak considering how angry he sounded just moments ago, but you were even more perplexed when he flopped onto your chest. From his throat, a purring sound rumbled, and you could feel it throughout your entire body....and in your very soul.

"Please..don't do this to me..." His ears flattened.

"Do....what?" Reaching down, you awkwardly placed a hand on his head, slowly petting his fur and hoping it provided him some comfort. "I don't know what's wrong, but..I hope this is okay."

Your uncertain tone only further devastated Narinder. This was exactly how you'd comfort him after his nightmares. He only ever allowed you to see him in such moments of vulnerability, so you never needed to ask for his permission. You would simply do it.

Had you forgotten that, too?

Was that damned Lamb right after all?

Were you forgetting.....him?

"I need you, why do you always leave me?" He mumbled, heartbroken as the tears slid down his cheeks, droplets splattering onto the symbol adorning your ragged shirt. "With each new life, I-I'm...losing more and more of you, [y/n]. I don't know if you are cursed or if it's fate deciding to test me....o-or maybe Lamb's followers wish to see me suffer....but...I'm so tired of watching you die and being unable to do anything about it. I've taken you for granted.."

"................."

".....forget it. You don't even know what day of the week it is..why do I bother trying?" With a sniffle, he reluctantly removed himself from your arms, believing he blew his last chance to save your memories..

Now you were acting like a total stranger to him, and it honestly felt as though you had already died before you even left the temple.

Maybe this was a sign that he needed to stop and move on.

Maybe he simply wasn't destined for love.

Maybe this was karma for all the atrocities committed in his name.

Maybe the next time you perished, no matter the reason, he'll-

"It's easy to forget things like that, Nari...but how could I ever forget the love of my life?"

Blinking through his tears, Narinder felt his breath hitch when your hand gently grasped his own. He looked back at you with astonishment, before glancing down at the matching rings that still adorned your fingers.

Then he gazed into your eyes, seeing your smile.

"You..remember me?"

"Of course I do, you silly kit---woah!!" You were suddenly tackled back onto the bed by your husband, feeling him nuzzling up to you and purring even louder than before.

But you simply giggled and held him closely, petting his fur in a comforting way. "I'm sorry for scaring you...it takes a while for all my memories to come back. D-Did I do anything dumb last time?"

"Just...promise me you'll never accept a dare from anybody again." He huffed, trying to hide the fact he was still sniveling like a helpless kitten.

"Alright." You sighed. "I promise to be more careful. I'll try harder to watch my back, too."

"Do you swear it?"

"...I swear it."

"Good."

[wildpeachfarm]

i’m just waiting for twitter to realize that this isn’t sexual assault. i’ve seen a few brave soldiers talk about it but i think people are afraid of seeming like they’re invalidating caiti but you can support her and recognize the situation for what it is. as a victim i hate seeing SA and rape be watered down like this and im already seeing the repercussions of it.

a lot of SA victims especially in youtube comments have been very vocal in their disgust at caiti for recycling SA/rape vocabulary to describe something that is Not That, and that it is making a mockery of real SA stories and will lead to them not being believed in the future. (I am just paraphrasing what I have seen)

Twitter will never accept that this is not SA because people are too emotionally invested in terms over there and have convinced themselves that in order for caiti to be a victim of any sort, then it MUST be SA which is just...not true

[websterss]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 𝟐/𝟒 — 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘  

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Your plan to get the group's attention becomes too difficult of a task especially with Ethan leaving your bracelet in his dorms, forcing you to be stuck in his dorm until he returns. You start to wonder whether he'll keep you locked up forever until he presents you with the idea of going to a party for the night.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): A bit graphic, mentions of blood and dying, angst, implications again but no smut, sad flashback

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,005

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ethan Landry x fem!Ghost!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! I based this off the song by Lizzy McAlpine - Doomsday

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Perhaps you had overestimated Ethan’s true intentions that night. Being pinned down both alive and dead brought on stress, pain, and ptsd, that wretched night scarred you. Flashes from the night he killed you remain true and gory. The color red turned into your most hated color of the rainbow. The second worst color; was brown. It was the color of his eyes. You used to adore having his attention, wanted nothing more than for him to swing that gaze on you with that charming grin he bore. Now you just wanted to erase every touch, conversation, and his whole existence. You knew the repercussions of attempting to bring justice for yourself, the whole obstacle of being invisible to the human eye; to your friends mostly. They couldn’t see you, and try as you wanted, they would not be able to hear you plead and beg for their attention, which you craved and yearned for the most. Anything but Ethan’s, anything but the heavy reminder of him stabbing you over and over with his knife. 

You were oblivious to his attack. You saw him coming, and you let him into your home, but you never saw his intentions. You would have guessed what the night would have potentially led to had it gone the way you hoped. A kiss, maybe even more, but not this. Not him, and the war he was battling behind his eyes, as he stared at you with a lost expression. 

-

“Hey Eth, do you want anything to drink? There’s water, and juice, a few sodas that I haven’t drunk yet. I’m not much of a beer person, but we can go to that bodega on the corner to get some if you want. I’m kind of craving some chips honestly.” You called out to him. Ethan had excused himself to use your bathroom. He needed to go after a few hours of trying to absorb every painstaking word from his econ textbook. You teased him for his class requirement. Why would anyone put themselves through such a class? Cause it was required for his degree of course. You shook your head as you opened your fridge up. The bright light from inside illuminates your face. Your brows pinch together when you get no response from him. Do guys usually take long to pee? 

“Ethan?” You glance at your fridge one more time before closing it. The second the door was closed you turned, and you wished you never did. “Ethan you okay in ther–” You cut yourself off seeing him stand there at the door of the bathroom. A black robe was now thrown over his clothes, and his hands dawned gloves; also black, but what made your heart sink was the knife he twiddled in his hands. His gaze was solely on the weapon. All you could see was his dark brown curls. “Ethan?” You take a small cautious step back. You kept trailing your eyes up and down his entire. Trying to find the butt of this really fucked up joke. There didn’t seem to be one though, just cautionary fear tingling up and down your spine. You had never really been in a flight or fight situation and you really didn’t want to be. You cringe when he tosses the mask onto the island between you both. The mask revealed all you needed and everything you were afraid of. Your breathing picked up as you stared down the all too familiar ghost face mask your friends warned you about. Your watery gaze rose to meet his detrimental stare. One look at his stance, the way his eyes burned with hate. The tight grip he had on the hilt. It screamed a man with the intent to do harm. And he would because your sweet dorky Ethan was gone. You didn’t recognize the intensity of the man before you. “W-What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna give you two options okay?” His voice was shaky. His jaw clenched. You sucked in a breath as he continued. You were on the verge of sobbing. “You can run, and you might get away with some injuries, or I can get it over with so you won’t suffer as much.” How generous…You look away, walking over to the farthest counter and placing your hands on it. You eye the pan you had left on top of the stove, before looking over your shoulder in distraught.

“W-What’s the third option?” You cry softly. 

“There isn’t one baby…My dad…” His eyes glistened. “He wouldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t be swayed, Y/n. I tried…” He looked down at the knife. “Believe me when I say that I tried. He wouldn’t let up though, he wants you dead.” 

“What?” You shook your head confused. “You tried? What the fuck does that mean? Why would he want me dead? W-We were just studying a few minutes ago Ethan. For your Econ exam. If you wanted to take a break you could have just said so, you didn’t have to go to such extensive measures!” You gesture to the robe hysterically. “Why are you doing this? I-I haven’t done anything to you. I haven’t done anything!” You breath hitches and cracks with every exhale and inhale of your cries. “I-I don’t wanna die Ethan…” You cower back against the door of your refrigerator. “Please, y-you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be my friend...”

“I know baby…” He closes his eyes shut. Then looks back up at you. “But I don’t have a choice. It was either you, or me.” He tilts his head. You go still, terror overtaking your face. You straighten, balling your left hand into a fist. The small pan was hidden behind your back, out of his sight. If he did notice you grab it, he didn’t mention it, maybe to allow you some peace of mind before everything went to shit.

You walk over to him slowly, cautiously, hoping not to trigger his fight response. “Will you give me something then, before you start?” You let out shakenly. 

“What?” His brows furrow.

You slowly reach up with your left and cup one side of his face before bringing his lips onto your own slowly. Your hand slid behind his head and curled your fingers into his locks, tugging him closer. Ethan nearly dropped the knife then and there. You caught him off guard. Might as well right, you thought. If you were going out then you’d go out believing and dreaming of what could have been. Maybe someday, somewhere right? Yeah right. Your breath hitches as you pull away, a tear slipping down your face as you pat his cheek gently. Then you swing the frying pan you grabbed into the side of his head before bolting down the hall to your room. Ethan's stance faltered. He stumbled back into the bathroom door, before falling onto his side. You had barely rushed past him when he tried to reach for your leg, but he missed. Not so safe to say he didn’t appreciate the sudden whack across the head since he thudded heavily towards your locked door. It took him about three powerful kicks before he got it open. You flinched by the window having it halfway lifted by the time he got in. He stood at the entrance, his eyes narrowed. He sighed heavily, as he shook his head. 

“Option one then…” He cracked his neck before he stormed towards you. You cried and fought him off, but the knife still got lodged into your stomach. You cried out in pain as you felt a sudden pinch snip at your wrist before he threw you across the room, you fell to the carpet, doing a horrible job at staying upright. He had gutted you well and efficiently enough to cause you to bleed tremendously. One thought and one thought only ran through your mind then and there. The door. The front door was the goal. The dream really. It was wishing thinking at this point honestly. But you began your crawl in agony. You grunt and whimper as your limbs and organs hurt with every movement and push you force your body to move forward. You couldn’t stay here, you had to get out, You just had to. 

Ethan begrudgingly sat at the edge of your bed. He rubbed against the side of his temple, his fingers drawn back with blood now smeared across his tips. Fuck, he thought. He looked over at you pushing yourself out the door with a struggle. How long he would let you do this for, was the real kicker. He thought it best to let you hope for a little longer. To let you continue ‘escaping’ as he assumed that is what he was looking at. He knew he said he wouldn’t let you suffer, but for some fucked up reason, he couldn’t let you die just yet. He wanted to enjoy a bit of your drive, your determination, and the sound of your voice regardless of the fact you were crying out in pain. He wanted to save it to memory for a few more minutes. You, just being alive. Just a little bit longer, he thought. He couldn’t get your kiss out of his head. Had you wanted to kiss him before? He hadn’t known, nor would he after this. He looked up again to find you out of his sight, had you moved that quickly? He strained his ears to be able to hear your faint grunts. You were slowly dying and he was only dragging it on further than he needed to. He placed his hands on his knees and stood up. He glanced around your room, letting his eyes roam over everything that screamed ‘you’. To the lights, to the fun colors on your bed, to the wall of pictures, to the now bloody carpet. He looked away, feeling a tinge of sadness for turning your most sacred place of comfort into a horror scene in the span of only a few minutes. He’d been in your home for over an hour, and it only took him minutes to ruin everything good in this little home you created for yourself. He walked over to the door, shifting his eyes to a picture you hung on the wall. It was of him and you. Bemused and silly is what he would describe the vibe he felt when he looked at it. Maybe someday, somewhere. That’s what he’d hope for. With one last glance at the pictures, he tapped it with his glove and moved into the hall. You had made some distance, but it was never going to be enough. He couldn’t keep watching you attempt to crawl your way to what you hoped would be your best chance of survival. He had to put you out of your misery. It would probably be the one good thing he could grant you. 

-

Any future attempt at trying to gain the attention of anyone other than Ethan was a no-go. The first few times he hadn’t suspected much when he brought along your bracelet. Your one and only means of transportation to and from places. He threatened to leave it in his room when he caught onto your intentions. You hated how much you begged and pleaded to be let out, be ‘taken out for some sunlight’ if you will. You had become reliant and dependable on Ethan as much as you despised it. He really had been your only source of sanity, without him as he smugly liked to remind you, you’d be stuck in his room. He even went ahead and left the bracelet under his pillow just to prove a point to you. You beat on his chest when he saw you storm up to him as he entered his room. You wanted nothing more than to slap that stupid smirk off his face, so you had, and he kissed you roughly, pinning you to his door.

It was routine, and he seemed to enjoy every minute of it, and you, you just had to go through with it or you’d end up cooped up in his room again waiting for him to return, just like today, on all the days. Halloween has been your absolute favorite and the asshole left your bracelet on his night stand. It mocked you as you sat on his bed staring off into space. You thought back to your Princess Diaries costume that was gonna be awesome, but now it sat in your closet, in your apartment that was covered in blood, your blood, which was now also a crime scene, so now you had nothing to wear but the clothes on your back. You lift your head as the door to his room opens. The devil himself walks in. Ethan approaches you, leaning down to give you a rough slow kiss. His hands cupping the back of your head to bring you closer. You sigh as the kiss goes on longer than needed. A scowl paints your face as he pulls back and bites back a smile. He straightens up and looks down at you with adoration.

“Get off your cute butt, we're going out.” That made you perk up. 

“Out? Where are we going?”

“A party. It’s Halloween remember, let’s go have fun.” He smirks seeing your face contort with confusion. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic even, but his sudden mood shift put you on edge. You noticed that after days turned into weeks. How he’d be nice and touchy feelings with you, then be an absolute sociopath the next. His sudden emotional outbursts scared you. Even dead he could still hurt you. “Come on, get up!” 

“I-I don’t get you.” You shook your head. You knew better than to fuel the flame he had tucked away at the moment, but you didn’t know how to deal with his change of emotions anymore, it was exhausting when he out of nowhere felt the need to play ‘Mr. Nice Guy’. You were over it.

“What do you mean?” He stopped looking for a long sleeve to look back at you. 

“You’ve kept me trapped in your room for five days, and now, all of a sudden you’re kissing me again, and being sweet? I don’t get you, Ethan.” You look away from him. Shrinking in place when he draws near. 

“I wanna take you out, what’s wrong with that?” His shoulders slumped. “You wanted out of here, you’re getting that.” He walked over to his nightstand and picked up the small gold chain. Mocking you with it as he dangled it out to you. Then proceeded to tuck it into his jeans. “Now get up, I’m supposed to meet Chad there. Unless you want me to leave you here.” You immediately got up from his bed.

“I don’t even have anything to wear.” You gesture to your shirt and jeans that you’ve been wearing since you showed up. The red sneakers are your signature trademark. The group used to find it endearing. You wondered if they were missing you right about now. 

“Why should it matter, no one can see you anyway?” Ethan immediately tensed seeing your face fall. “I didn’t mean it like that…look how about we- we could ya know…” He trailed off then met eyes with his white bedsheets then stilled. You watched wearily and then curiously as he stripped his bed of his flat sheet. Who the hell owned a flat sheet? 

“What's with the sheet?” You raise a brow in question.

“Would this even work? I mean you couldn’t even touch your bracelet. It just went right through you.” He eyed the sheet and then walked over to you. “Can I?” He gestured to you then the bed linen in his hands. He took quick notice of your hesitance. “Just trust me.” He waved your doubts away. His words made you laugh out loud causing him to grow still. 

“Says my murderer…” You roll your eyes.

“Humor me then.” He grunts then before you can protest he throws the linen over your head and watches it drape over your frame. When it remained over you, his heart began picking up. “Holy…shit!” He backed up, his hands frozen in mid-air as he surveilled you from head to toe. “No fucking way that worked. Holy shit!” You heard him breathe out aloud. What was he so shocked about?

“I can’t see anything.” He couldn’t see it but he imagined you were pouting. 

“Oh right, sorry. Here take it off!” He pulled on the sheet until you came back into his view. Your hair was in disarray. Wild and full of static. A cute pout on your lips as you stared at him. Observing as he dug out a pocket knife and cut into the fabric. Two eyes holes from what you could tell, and then he was turning back to you, reaching forward to fix some crazy strands. The kiss placed on your lips caught you by surprise. He smiled at you and then went to throw the flat sheet over your head again. He adjusted it until your eyes were directly over the two holes he made. You could see out of it now. “Oh my god, you look fucking cool!” He ushered you to his thin mirror. What you didn’t come to realize soon enough was that the linen over your body did not go through you. Your eyes slowly widened as you began to grasp what this would mean for you. People would be able to see you. 

“Holy shit…” You gasped as you stared back at your reflection. You had a reflection. You couldn’t see your eyes, but you could see the very visible bed sheet that was placed over your frame. “Holy fucking shit!” You exclaim, excitingly. You knew what this entailed, but you realized that Ethan had yet to understand why you were so excited about the sheet being placed over you and why it didn’t phase through you like the bracelet had. You figured that he figured you were only freaking out because he thought you thought this was cool. It was, that was no lie, but you were hopeful again. 

“No one will think twice about it.” Ethan laughed at your reaction.

“It worked!” You extend your arms out and do a little spin. 

“It’s fitting honestly going as a ghost, I mean who’s gonna question the girl with a sheet draped over her head?” He chuckled. He nodded in agreement. You were though, a ghost and all. Dead or costume didn’t change that. Not one bit. You hadn’t known why you let your intrusive thoughts win in the moment. Perhaps you rushed towards him because you wanted to express how you were feeling and needed an outlet. Needing to show Ethan just how happy you felt, though you knew you had acted in such a way because your plan to try and find a way to communicate with your friends was back on track, and Ethan was none the wiser about it. You had shed the sheet and brought his lips onto yours. This had been the second time now that your initiated kiss had caught him off guard, but he welcomed the affection nonetheless. He walked the both of you backward until he fell back onto the bed, taking you down with him as the kiss grew heated and rougher. You stayed on top until he had flipped you both. The hungry gaze behind his eyes knew you were gonna be a little late for the party, but you hadn’t really been too worried about it. 

-

The walk to the frat house had been interesting. You kept turning your head towards every wandering eye that landed on you and Ethan. You bet you both looked like quite the pair. A sheeted ghost and a cardboard knight. You had judged Ethan’s look with love and some honesty. You still didn’t get it when it had to explain to you who he was. He went into detail about his inspiration from the movie Murder Party. A movie you had no idea existed until he showed you a scene in which the character Ethan was being tonight wore said costume. It felt like trivia. 

When you both walked through the door. You were both immersed in the chaos and music blasting through a speaker somewhere in the house. Bodies, bodies, and bodies all around, grinding, talking, drinking, and of course the occasional hookup. You were feeling a bit better than you and Ethan had your own pre-hookup before arriving. You knew better than to let your heart lead, but you couldn’t help the swarm of butterflies in your stomach when he reached behind him, extending his hand out for you to grab, and you did, allowing him to lead the way around the various of party goers fully and barely intoxicated. It wasn’t long until Ethan had found Chad. And boy were you not prepared for him to finally see you. See your ghost costume. 

“And who is this unlively thing?” Chad joked but teasingly nudged Ethan over and over. You had barely registered Chad’s faint words of ‘That’s my boy’ and ‘I told you, full snack baby!’ before he turned his attention back onto you. “What’s your name sweetheart?” Oh his smile, his beautiful grin that you had missed having be directed at you. 

“This is Wyen!” Ethan introduced you. You were glad they couldn’t see the questionable expression you gave under the sheet for the very questionable name he gave you. What the fuck Ethan?

“Wyen?” Chad's brows pinched together in question as well. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such a unique name.” He shook his head.

“Yeah…she gets that a lot, just think of her name as the letters Y and N and you’ll be fine.” Ethan waved it off. 

“Why would I–” Chad sputtered in confusion. Then turned to you. “What? Is he messing with me? Please tell me he’s fucking with me?” Chad laughed your way. You shook your head and said. 

“No, if only you knew though.” You said. Ethan eyed you, but Chad hadn’t heard you one bit. 

“Is she good?” Chad leaned over to Ethan, as he took note of your lack of responses. “She's not…you know.” He gestured to his ears.

“Deaf? Oh no, yeah she’s fine, she’s just staying in character tonight. Halloween is kind of her favorite holiday.” You wanted to slap him right then and there, so you did. You reached forward and smacked him. Chad found your interactions amusing.

“Ahh okay. Well apologies, ole friendly ghost. I was in the dark of such information, but I respect your wishes to continue to haunt our youth in silence!” Chad placed a hand over his naked chest. You breathe a laugh aloud, but you realize your laugh didn’t reach his ears. It made you tear up a bit, but you concluded that the shake of your shoulders was enough for him to register you did in fact find his teasing funny because his head was thrown back as he laughed. God you had missed him. You tipped your chin down and curtsied, adding to the bit he was doing. “She’s funny too. I like you already.” He pointed at you. “Well, Ghostette and Mr. Landry, enjoy yourselves, not too much of course, but get drunk, and make out. I’m gonna go see where the girls are alright, find me if anything goes wrong okay? Anything. That goes for you too Wyen. Find me for anything!” With that, he tapped Ethan’s cardboard chest in what you assumed was approval and walked in the opposite direction. You scoff knowing that Chad considered you to be Ethan’s conquest for tonight. It looked like trying to gain their attention was going to be harder than you expected...especially since Ethan was hesitant to let you out of his sights now.

[daisymylove]

I sincerely don't know if Im alone on this one, so I want to know what yall think. Again, I may get some heat for this, but it’s my honest opinion.

Something I noticed in my reread is that I grew a slight dislike for lucie in chot, and as someone who had always previously rooted for her, I’m currently annoyed at myself.The thing is, Lucie IS a very privileged and sheltered girl.She was born into a wealthy, loving family and, because of her apparent “normalcy”, never suffered the brunt of the shadowhunter prejudice like Tessa and James.

None of this is a problem in itself, but my point here is that there were always other people protecting, thinking and worrying for her, so I think not only she never realized how precarious her family’s position actually was, but also has no true understanding of consequences and how the “real world” works.She knew in some level that what she was doing regarding jesse was dangerous, but was never truly afraid of repercussions, bc unconsciously she knows there will be someone to catch her . And while I do like to see a character become aware of its own privileges along the narrative, there’s no growing here.She finished the book without ever realizing it, because everything was just SO easy and convenient, and that bothers me greatly.

In all fairness, how could she? she does whatever she wants with no consequences.

I feel so conflicted bc while I actually cheered when she brought jesse back in choi, and always shipped them, I find the outcome of her actions to be low-key infuriating.Lucie wasn’t willing to give Jesse up, but also never seriously considered giving up her comfortable life to start over with him somewhere.That ludicrous and set to fail jeremy blackthorn plan wasn’t even her idea, it was the people around her finding a way to fix her “mistakes” to save all of their asses from jail.

Lucie could’ve had her marks stripped, her father could’ve lost the institute, it could’ve costed Tessa’s life.Those guys had been waiting 25 years for the slightest opportunity to pounce on her, does anyone seriously believe they wouldn’t all automatically think the warlock mother was involved? How come there was some major necromancy going on under her roof and she had no idea?  we know she didnt, but still   All of this was severely downplayed and there was little to no conflict regarding it, and anyone can correct me if im wrong, but none of that ever dawned on lucie.She never fully thought about how her family would be implicated, and nobody brought that up to her.Zero confict just chill, I guess this is our life now .Dont get me wrong, I dont want that shitstorm to actually happen,I just wanted her to become AWARE of it

 she literally brought home this complete stranger to them all (we know jesse, the characters dont) that was 8 years her senior (it doesnt matter his body was frozen for 7 years, mentally jesse is 24), Tatiana’s son, and had been dead up until last tuesday, but nobody save perhaps jessamine, and god it pains me to agree with jessamine had a problem with that.Instant acceptance, no resistance, no objections at all.All it would take for that lie to crumble would be ONE trial by the sword at any point of their lives and everybody was as chill as chicken joe from surfs up

Her fight with Cordelia pissed me off too. Lucie meddled on something she had no right and no knowledge of,and demanded things of Cordelia without even being willing to hear her out. ”oh the poor thing is suffering so much bc of you, why can’t you just take him back?” GIRL, FOR ALL SHE KNOWS, UNTIL A WEEK AGO, HOME BOY WAS SWEARING UNDYING LOVE AND BURNING DOWN MANORS FOR GRACE BLACKTHORN. 

WE know poor james was ensorcelled and fighting it, but what was cordelia supposed to think of it? How dare she assume that Cordelia “took advantage of James going to Cornwal to run away with matthew”? 

The demon of secrets in edom scene was plain ridiculous.”yo I had a childhood crush on your brother, sorry for never telling you, I was embarrassed” is not a big deal.The fact that they needed demonic intervention for THAT so late in the book baffles me

While I do think most characters were severely nerfed on this book and behaved ooc on several occasions (swear to god I have some mild ptsd from all the times cordelia ran and did unhinged things) , my conclusion about Lucie’s arc is that she took her good life for granted, endangered her entire family, didnt grow from the experience, but still got everything she wanted with no consequences or sacrifices.She lost a cousin along the way, but who cares about that guy? what was his name again? Its my understanding that Lucie never even faced a trial.Thats unrealistic and bad writing, if you ask me.When I think it over, the word that comes to me is...spoiled.

And dont get me started on the fact that she found out Malcom was planning on doing full blown necromancy and didnt do anything about it.How that had no repercussions AT ALL still blows my mind.

 The worst part for me is that I genuinely believe Lucie deserved better you know? 

If lucie and cordelia hadnt been allowed to become parabatai, and jesse had received some other minor yet life changing punishment, and we had seen a trial scene I would’ve been satisfied, because at least it wouldn’t have been nothing.

[thisis-an-original-name]

I wish everyone who is making this week all about Taylor Swift a very nice « shut the fuck up. »

Don’t get me wrong, I love Taylor just as much as the next basic middle class white girl, but I’m also Jewish, and seeing people post incessantly about the Taylor/Kanye beef instead of acknowledging the real problems honestly makes me sick.

Here are the facts: there are 15 million Jews world wide. That’s less than half of Kanye’s Twitter followers. Kanye got suspended from Twitter not for the anti-semitism but for posting an unflattering picture of Elon musk, showing that the man in charge of the worlds most powerful social media platform is fine with hate speech unless it’s against him. AND one of Kanye’s most outspoken supporters, who obviously agrees with his views, is running for president again. Do I think he’ll win? No, but I’m genuinely afraid that if he does, we may be looking at 1939 2: electric boogaloo.

Being Jewish is a great time. It’s also fucking terrifying. Once a century, someone tries to wipe us all off the face of the earth, and this century hasn’t had their try yet. Anyone, Jewish or otherwise, who’s ever read a history book knows that Kanye’s words have real, awful repercussions.

And if you’re making this about some petty shit that happened at the VMAs 13 years ago, then congrats. It’s you, you’re the problem, it’s you.

[conditioned-to-obey]

do you & your pets have large age gaps? does age play into someone’s attractiveness to you? i’m turning 29 on the 13th of this month & i’m scared that doms won’t give me the time of day bc i’m “too old”. a lot of them are looking for a bigger age gap, even when they’re in their mid to late 30s.

First of all, happy birthday.

Secondly, no. Most of my pets are very close to me in age. I have one or two that are younger, like you, but they are special cases. I treat them as such.

So I'd say no, age gaps do not accomplish much in attraction to me. If anything I rarely find anyone 18+ who is younger than 25 attractive at all beyond a passing glance.

You are still very young. I have seen plenty of followers who are owned subs, pups, little girls, fuckdolls, kittens, bunnies, that are 40+ who are in happy long term D/s relationships. They have owners, masters, daddy's in varying ages. Anyone can be a "little girl" or a kitten. Anyone can put a pacifier in their mouth and color in a coloring book to proudly display on the fridge. Anyone can feel small or little. If that's what their angle is. But besides being 18+ (or in my belief 21+) anyone can be a sub.

Any reasonable Dom really shouldn't be focusing on age that much to reject a woman who is their own age. Who, let's face it, are probably much more suited to their needs and maturity level than any freshly 18 virgin sub would be.

I find a lot of men chasing younger subs based on age to just be predatory in their behavior. What are they so afraid of in subs over 30? Those aren't Doms, they're just predators. They aren't really looking for age gaps. They are looking for inexperience, naivety, uncertainty, low self esteem, easily swayed opinions, limits they can push with little to no repercussions. Simply because younger subs don't know any better, or lack confidence to advocate for themselves.

Just be very mindful of anyone who would see 29 as too old to be a sub. That's just delusion on their part. Delusion and insecurity. Hell, to me 30 somethings can still come across as a little wet behind the ears. It's all a matter of perspective and life experience. Aim high, doll. There's plenty of Doms out there that can and will appreciate you.

Let's just say, that older Dom isn't getting any younger. It's silly to waste one's time limiting ourselves from fulfilling and deep connections with others in exchange for age gaps and numbers. All subs kneel the same at the end of the day. Whether they need a therapeutic cushion below them or not. I know I would, my knees aren't what they used to be.