#I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY BUT MY HEAD HURTS FROM WATCHING AN UNINTERRUPTED MOVIE SO I WILL WAIT

[boyhowdy5]

Saw atsv and no one is ever allowed to say that art is dead again

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hey there!! First things first, I love your writing so much 😭😭😭 I’m obsessed with your blog

I have a request for the seven brothers from obey me!

I was wondering how each of them would react to their s/o who got in some kind of trouble and comes home covered in blood, in shock, not being able to speak at first?

If you can write it I’d be really grateful 💖

Obey me Brothers + Bloodspattered MC

Lucifer

He had been waiting up for them when he finally heard the door open.

They were supposed to be home an hour ago. Lucifer appreciated that time could get away from a person, especially a human, but it was incredibly rude for them not to call or text that they were going to be late. So, he waited up for them. One to make sure they were ok, and two to give them a talking to.

Closing his book, he stood up from his large leather chair and stepped into the foyer. “I certainly hope your watch is broken. Otherwise, I have no idea why you would be so….” He trailed off as he came around the corner, saw [Y/N], and felt all the blood run from his face as he saw them covered in it.

“[Y/N]! What happened?!”

He rushed to their side. Trying to do a preliminary assessment as they muttered and stumbled over some words. Clearly still to jarred to speak.

Lucifer sighed as he couldn’t see any physical injuries on them. Thankfully, in a way, the blood wasn’t theirs. “There, there. Let’s get you cleaned up first then we’ll talk. I’ve told you. Going out into the Devildom alone was dangerous.”

He ushered them up the stairs and to the bathroom. He hated to say he told them so, but he did. Why did no one ever listen to him?

Mammon

Mammon was pissed. He hated being stood up. Not only did it leave him with feelings of inadequacy and neglect he was all too familiar with, but he wasted a perfectly good outfit.

[Y/N] was supposed to meet him at the Hellfire club for the launch of his new campaign for Belle Nuit Couture. One of the newest and hottest fashion lines in the Devildom, and he was the star. This was a party for him and he had invited [Y/N] as his date and they stood him up!

He couldn’t enjoy the party at all after that and, after several glasses of champagne and free tote bags, Mammon left to go home and give [Y/N] a piece of his mind.

The car dropped him off at the gate and he walked up. The front steps coming into view as he got closer, and seeing [Y/N] sitting on them.

“Hey! Ya got some nerve standing me up!” He called as he came closer. “I got you on the guest list for the most exclusive party in probably the world, and ya don’t even show up! Man. You’re really selfish if you think—” His rant stopped mid sentence as [Y/N] turned their head up to look at him. Face covered in blood. Along with the rest of them, he realized.

“I don’t have my key.”

Mammon dropped the gift bags and raced over to [Y/N]’s side. “What the hell happened!? Who did this to you?!”

“I don’t….I don’t….”

“Why didn’t you call me?!”

“They took my phone.”

“They?! Who’s they?!” He could feel his blood boiling. His shoulder blades tense and itching as his wings tried to come out, along with the rest of his demon form. Who would hurt his [Y/N]?! “I’m calling the car back.”

“Wh….Why….”

“To get you to a hospital!” Mammon shouted. Already on the phone and telling the car to turn around. “Here. Lean on me. No wait, I’ll carry you.”

“Your shirt….”

“Who cares about that?!” He was already picking [Y/N] up bridal style. The blood sticky and messy as it pressed against his expensive new BNC attire. No one else in the world had this line yet, and he’d already ruined it. But [Y/N] was more important.

Levi

Most people knew to leave Levi alone when he was on a new game grind.

He expected no less than 72 uninterrupted hours of gaming when the cellophane seal came off the packaging, followed by minimal interruptions for the next 7-10 business days.

It was why, when he first heard the knock, that he thought that he had imagined it. This was a horror game after all. Creepy noises were expected to come up now and then. But, he quickly realized, door knocks did not come up in forest sequences of a game, so he went to go check the door.

“Oh, hey [Y/N]. Wow! Is this a new cosplay for the game?! What dedication! I didn’t even know that there were characters like this in the game. You must have gone real otaku and checked the forums. Good for you! This blood looks so real too. What did you use? This doesn’t look like syrup or a synthetic mix or….”

Levi suddenly realized that the reason the blood looked so real was because it was real. His beautiful [Y/N]-hime-sama, was covered in blood, and just staring at him with these big, sunken doe eyes. He felt all of his blood drain from his face. His stomach felt sick. He had a very low threshold for non-animated blood, and he was starting to feel woozy.

“Oh…oh no…I must have triggered another real world game experience. That’s it.” He tried to rationalize. “Y-Yeah. That’s it. This is just like the otome game we got stuck in before. D-Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. Let’s get you cleaned up first and then we’ll beat the game together [Y/N]. Just like always.”

Yes. Right. This was just a game. This was just a game. This wasn’t really real. It was all a game.

Satan

When reading a good book, Satan lost all track of time. Many a night he had been alerted to the time by the sun coming up, or his alarm for school, breaking through his intense focus, only to realize he had been up all night. He wasn’t sure what time it was when he heard the knock, but he was pretty sure it was late. It just felt that way.

Saving his place in his book, Satan got up from his bed to answer the door and was shocked to find [Y/N] there. Covered in blood.

“Good gods [Y/N]! What happened?!”

“It…It was….They….” They could barely speak, their hands shaking as well, and Satan wanted to feel sympathy for them. However, all he could feel was anger swelling up in his chest.

He heard the word ‘they’ and his mind quickly deduced that someone or something had done this to [Y/N]. A being out that had the suicidal gall to touch them. Hurt someone precious to him.

He could already feel the violent storm of his rage building within him, ready to smite any and all who played part in this. But then, just as quickly, he took a deep breath and tampered it down. [Y/N] and their safety was more important right now. Nothing else but that mattered right now.

“Come inside. I’ll get you some towels. We’ll get you cleaned up and we can talk about it. If you want.”

Hopefully [Y/N] had names, because he really didn’t want to go student to student hunting down whoever knew anything. Not that he wasn’t willing to.

Asmo

Asmo was pretty irritated.

[Y/N] was supposed to come home straight after the committee meeting and they were supposed to have a cute night in together. Movies, popcorn, facials, pedicures, maybe some light petting under the covers; though that last one was all Asmo’s idea. But they never showed up!

He got that sometimes these committee meetings for events could take a while. He had certainly been involved in a few due to his popularity and excellent party planning skills. But all night??

He had been so irritated that Asmo snuck into their room to wait for them. Sitting on their bed with his best ‘and just where have you been at this hour?’ look to let them know that he was annoyed they missed their date.

But, the hours ticked on, and eventually Asmo fell asleep on their bed. Drifting to sleep rather peacefully, until the door opened.

“[Y/N]….?” He said groggily. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “Where have you been?” Ok, maybe not as accusatory as he originally intended, but the spirit was there.

His eyes eventually adjusted from sleep and the dark to spot them. Back lit from the hallway, but with just enough light for him to see they were covered in blood. “[Y/N]! What happened?!”

Asmo quickly sprung from the bed and raced over to them. “Oh no! Your poor clothes! Your hair! Are you alright?!” They looked a mess, but intact. Not that their outfit could really be saved. “Come with me. We’ll get you cleaned up in my bathroom. No one will bother us there. I was so worried [Y/N] but I never dreamed….oh never mind. Here, take my hand. We’ll get you cleaned up and into bed before you know it.”

Beel

Beel was always happiest when he was in his room with Belphie.

It was quiet. Just them. And he could finally relax after a long day just in his room with his twin. He had missed Belphie a lot when he had been banished to the attic, but was very happy he was back.

Beel was sitting on his bed, eating snacks, and getting ready to hit the hay when he heard a knock at their door. Belphie was already asleep, so he went to go get it. Thinking one of his other, equally important brothers needed him for something.

He was shocked to find [Y/N] on the other side of the door. Their face pale, except for the blood all over it. “[Y/N]!”

He cried out their name in alarm and pulled them into the room and close to look at them. “What happened to you!? I just saw you an hour ago, how could you….” His mind was suddenly racing with ideas. None of them good. His mind was also racing towards memories of the past. Deep in the past. Of the last time he actually saw Lilith before she was lost to them forever.

‘No, no, no! Not again! This can’t be happening again! This isn’t happening again!’

“What’s going on…..”

Belphie

Belphie sat up in his bed, hearing the commotion.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes, asking what was happening. In this family it could be anything from a blown fuse to the world was ending, so no reason to get excited until it was necessary.

He fully opened his eyes and saw Beel standing there with [Y/N]. His brother, wide eyed with a terrified look, and [Y/N] just standing there was a dazed expression. The only color in their expression was the blood actually clinging to their body. “What the hell happened?!”

“I..I don’t know!” Beel answered. Terrified, and still holding on to [Y/N]’s shoulders. “They just showed up like this.”

“Well are they injured or hurt or something?” Belphie asked as he came over to look at them.

“I don’t know!” Beel just repeated. He sounded like on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Belphie could feel his own panic attack rising. Funny how, not long ago, he actually dreamed of doing something like this to [Y/N]. Now the thought of losing them made him sick and impossibly fearful. “We…We should go get Lucifer.”

He didn’t know what to do or what happened. And whenever he didn’t know anything his brain immediately thought ‘we should get Lucifer’. Though he pretended to hate him, and said mean, cruel things to the man, he still needed his big brother.

“H…He’ll know what to do. He always does. I…I’ll go get him. You stay here with [Y/N].”

Beel nodded, but Belphie didn’t see it as he took off with a speed not often seen from the youngest brother. He just had to get Lucifer. He would make everything alright. He always did. It would be alright.

[smallndsoft]

tw: cnc

“on your knees, puppy.”

i almost feel bad for the pathetic look on your face, just inches away from the bulge in my jeans. almost.

i would feel bad if you hadn’t kept interrupting the baseball game i was watching. i had asked you this morning for a few hours of uninterrupted time in front of the tv so i could watch the game.

being the dumb little mutt you are though, i only got an hour into my game before you were pawing at the zipper on my jeans like your life depended on it.

“hey! hands off.” i push your hands away as they greedily try to unzip my jeans again. taking things into my own hands, i grab the back of your head and shove it into my crotch.

“touch me with those dirty hands of yours and your ass is going to be bruised tomorrow, pup.”

i feel you struggle to nod as you put your arms behind your back. i can feel you taking small breaths, as that’s all that i’ll allow before letting your the back of your head go.

i tangle my fingers in your hair and pull you back as i unzip my jeans. i can’t deny that i’m hard, but i would much rather be watching the game than dealing with you right now.

“what’s wrong, puppy?” i ask as i pull my cock out. the tip is glistening with a small bead of pre-cum. “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? why do you look so scared now?”

“i-” whatever you were going to say is cut off as i jerk your head back. you squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth.

“i didn’t say you could fucking talk. puppies don’t talk and they certainly don’t talk back. you really are asking for it.”

i chuckle and shake my head as i tighten my grip on your hair. you wince and i can tell it’s starting to hurt a little. not like it really matters though.

“you’re going to suck my cock. i don’t give a shit if your jaw gets sore. since you wanted this so bad, you’re going to suck until the fucking game is over.”

i see the protest in your eyes before i shove your head forwards. you know better than to argue now as your mouth opens and your eyes shut.

i throw my head back, a small groan leaving me as your lips wrap around my cock. “fuck. open your eyes.”

your eyes flutter open as you look up at me. i smile down at you before i push you all the way down on my cock.

i let out a low moan and slowly maneuver us to the couch. i sit down and pull you closer to me, your mouth still flush against my pubic bone.

as you start to choke, i let out a small laugh and unmute the tv. i missed enough of the game to be more than frustrated. it’s a good thing i have a little puppy to take my anger out on.

“you’re doing a good job, puppy,” i mumble as i keep my eyes on the tv. you may be trying to protest and i can feel you trying to move off my cock, but you made your choice when you were bothering me.

the inning ends and, getting bored of just having your throat wrapped around my cock, i start to move your head. normally i would thrust my hips, but that would take too much effort on my part.

“fuck that’s it. such a good cocksucker.”

i stare down at you as moans spill out of my mouth. with each bob of your head, i pull and push you onto my cock faster and faster.

i can feel your nails digging into my thighs to tell me to stop, but if you really wanted me to stop, you’d use our signal.

“i knew you’d enjoy this. that’s all you’re good for, huh? just a cocksucker for me.” i say this through gritted teeth as i finally pull you off of my cock.

you cough and sputter, a long trail of spit connecting the tip of my cock and your puffy lips.

even though i’m still more focused on the game than you, the slightly dazed look in your eyes and your still open mouth force me to reconsider.

before you have even a second to protest, your underwear’s on the floor and you’re up on the couch.

i make sure to lay you down so i can still see the tv. i rub up and down your dripping hole once before slamming into you.

“oh fuck you’re tight.” i have to close my eyes for a few seconds because you feel so good.

the muffled yelp you let out spurs me on further as i throw your legs over my shoulders. “fuck this is my hole to use, puppy.”

thrust after thrust, i push into you harder and harder.

tears are running down your cheeks now but i never hear that word. all you say is “please no” and “stop it hurts”.

“you know what to say if you want me to stop puppy,” i growl as i lean down. i bite the soft skin where your neck and shoulder meet. this draws a startled whimper out of you.

“just let me fuck you, puppy. just take it. it’s for your own good.”

at this point, the game is background noise. the fans cheering on tv and the crack of the bat fade into the background. the almost cramped space surrounding us on the couch is filled with the sounds of your sobs and skin slapping against skin.

“you should have just left me alone. but no,” i pant out as i thrust faster. i can feel my climax slowly building with each hard thrust. with each press of my tip against your cervix. “you’re too much a cocksucking slut to leave me alone for a few hours.”

your mind’s too cloudy to form a coherent thought. so through your sobs, all you can manage is a choked out “n-no.”

that’s all it takes before i pressed on top of you, my hips stilling as i pump my cum deep into you. i bite down on your shoulder, needing an anchor for the force of my orgasm as it tears through me. “fuck,” i grunt out, mumbled by your shoulder.

i only give you a few seconds to recover before i lift off of you. i’m breathing heavily still as i start to move my hips again.

exhausted, you weakly shake your head. fresh tears form at the corners of your eyes as you whimper out a weak “please,”

“you know the safe word, puppy.”

[mattmurdocksscars]

Injuries and Confessions

Hello, hello! This is my first Lucanis fic so I hope I did alright! Let me know what you think in the comments or with a reblog 💖

Characters: Lucanis, Fem!Rook, Emmerich, Teia, Viago, unnamed healer

Word count: 2184

One moment, Rook, Emmerich, and Lucanis are owning the battlefield. They move together as a unit, taking down foes and quipping to each other about their kills. Lucanis is sure they're going to win this fight. 

The next, Rook is shoving Lucanis out of the way of an enemy and taking the blow meant for him. Lucanis watches in what feels like slow motion as Rook falls and doesn't get back up.

“Rook!” Lucanis isn't sure the sound comes from him at first. Spite is raging behind his eyes, and Lucanis forces himself to focus on the fight at hand. Spite's wings come out and Lucanis is unsure whether it is him or Spite that finishes off the remaining enemies. When the last one falls, they run to Rook who still has not moved. 

Carefully they roll Rook over and Lucanis immediately sucks in a sharp breath.

“Mierda.” The wound is deep, and Lucanis feels dread fill him. Emmerich kneels across from him and examines the wound. 

“We must get her to a healer. For now, see if you can get a potion in her.” Lucanis reaches for his supply of potions and pulls one out. He quickly uncorks it and holds it to Rook's mouth. 

“Come on, Rook. Drink for me.” Her eyes flutter behind her eyelids before cracking open. He presses the potion to her lips and she manages to swallow most of it.

“W-What happened?” Rook croaks. Lucanis breathes a small sigh of relief, seeing her awake. 

“You're hurt, Rook. We're going to get you to a healer.” Emmerich tells her. Her eyes flutter close again and Lucanis panics. He puts a hand on her cheek.

“Stay awake, Rook. You have to stay awake for me.” It doesn't work though and Rook's body goes slack in his arms. 

“We need to move. Now.” Lucanis slips his arms under Rook’s back and legs and carefully picks her up, trying not to jostle her too much. She still makes a sound of pain and Lucanis can feel his heart break at the sound. Spite immediately responds.

“Get. Rook. Help!!” 

“I'm trying.” Lucanis grumbles back to his other half, adjusting his grip to make sure he wouldn't hurt her further. Lucanis and Emmerich hurry away, heading for the casino. Lucanis hopes the healer is close by and not away on business. It takes some adjustments to make it to the casino but once they do, they hurry through the doors. Emmerich is first through and immediately calls for help. Teia and Viago are drawn in by the sound and gasp upon seeing Rook.

“What happened?” Viago asks as he leads them to a room on the side. Lucanis carefully sets Rook down on a bed. Teia takes the time to get a healer and she brings the older woman in. Even she lets out a curse at the sight of Rook's wound.

Lucanis feels his throat close. This was his fault. If he had been paying more attention, Rook wouldn't have had to shove him out of the way. 

“Not. Our. Fault.” Spite says but Lucanis shakes his head and stays silent. Emmerich answers in his silence.

“It was the Antaam. She took a hard hit and went down.” The healer peels away Rook's top and Lucanis grimaces at the wound. 

“Everyone out, except Teia. There's too many of you gathered around and I need quiet to work.”

“No!” Spite does not like being told to leave but Lucanis grits his teeth and turns to head for the door. But Spite apparently feels more strongly than Lucanis anticipated and the spirit rushes to the forefront of Lucanis's mind. 

“No. Leave. Rook!!!” Spite growls. Everyone in the room turns to Lucanis, who is struggling to gain back control. 

“Spite, it's to help her. We need to leave so that the healer may work uninterrupted.” Emmerich explains slowly. 

“Lucanis, get your demon under control.” Viago tells him. It takes a minute but Lucanis is able to wrest back control from Spite, but the spirit shows his unhappiness by making their nose bleed.

“Lucanis-”

“I'm fine. Let's go.” Viago, Emmerich, and Lucanis shuffle out of the room, closing the door behind them. Spite rages in his head, throwing a tantrum that would rival a toddler's. Emmerich even grimaces at the volume. Viago watches the two of them warily. Lucanis pretends not to notice.

That's how they spend the time it takes for the healer to work on Rook. Lucanis is unsure of how much time actually passes but knows it feels like a lifetime. When the healer and Teia walk out, Lucanis immediately turns to them.

“Go. See. Rook.”

“Not yet.” Lucanis mumbles. He waits impatiently for the healer to speak. She sighs and cleans her hands with a rag.

“Your friend will be alright, but she needs rest. I've done everything I can for her. Her body will need time to heal and recover.” The older woman says. Lucanis feels bad that he doesn't know her name but there are bigger concerns for him. 

“We should get Rook back to the Lighthouse.” Emmerich says but the healer shakes her head.

“You will need to wait until she awakens at the very least. Moving her now is not a good idea.” Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and nods. Emmerich nods as well and thanks the woman for her help. She leaves them with instructions on how to care for Rook's wound. 

“We. Need. To see. Rook!” Spite growls in Lucanis's mind, the spirit raging against his skull. Emmerich gives him a sympathetic glance then gestures to the room.

“Lucanis, why don't you watch over Rook? I'll return to the Lighthouse to let the others know what has happened. I'll return in a couple hours to see if she has awakened.” Lucanis is already walking towards the door by the time Emmerich finishes speaking. He says a quick thank you to Teia and Viago, then opens the door and steps in.

The room is quiet, aside from Rook's breathing. Lucanis hesitates for just a moment before he finds himself walking over to Rook. Glancing down at her when he reaches her side, he feels a lump in his throat. Her torso is wrapped and he can smell the elfroot from where he's standing. The bandages are already staining red over the wound. 

“Damnit, Rook…” he murmurs. “Why would you do something so foolish?”

Rook is silent, as expected. Lucanis drops down into the chair by her bed and puts his head in his hand. He itches to hold her hand that lies closest to him but he doesn't allow himself the luxury. 

Time passes by slowly. Every second Rook stays unconscious is a second of hell for Lucanis. Spite is oddly quiet now that they're in the room with Rook. But Lucanis's mind is a flurry of thoughts. He wonders why she would do such a thing, what was going through her mind when she did it, if she'll be angry with him for not noticing the attack sooner.

His thoughts distract him enough that he almost doesn't realize Rook is waking up. A soft groan pulls him back to reality though and his head snaps up to watch Rook.

Her eyes blink open slowly and she tries to sit up, only to hiss in pain and lay back down. Lucanis immediately lurches forward and gently puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Lie still, Rook. You're injured pretty badly.” He says softly. Rook's attention shifts to him then and he braces himself for her anger. Instead he sees relief on her face.

“Lucanis… you're okay?” She asks. He nods and she relaxes into the bed. 

“What happened? I remember we were fighting, but not much else.” She says. Lucanis swallows past the lump that suddenly forms in his throat. 

“You pushed me out of the way and took a hit meant for me.” Lucanis admits. Rook is silent for a few moments, making Lucanis want to squirm, before she nods.

“Sounds exactly like something I would do.” Lucanis raises his eyebrows in surprise at her nonchalance.

“You're not angry?”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I should have seen that Antaam coming. I should have been able to move in time. If I had, you wouldn't have been-”

“Lucanis. We all have blindspots. Even master assassins. Plus, in the heat of battle with that many enemies, it's hard to keep track. I don't blame you for something I chose to do.”

Lucanis lets out a soft breath, looking at Rook hard. It is her turn to raise her eyebrows at his stern look.

“Why did you even do it? You could have gotten yourself killed! What were you thinking?” Lucanis asks, a tinge of anger in his voice. Rook looks sheepish and Spite speaks up for the first time in a while.

“Do not. Yell. At Rook.” 

“Stay out of it, Spite.” Lucanis growls. Rook raises an eyebrow, curious over what the demon said. But Lucanis doesn't elaborate, he simply stares at Rook and waits for an answer. Rook closes her eyes for a moment then sighs.

“I did it because the thought of you dying does something to me. I can't… I can't lose you, Lucanis. I care too much about you.” Rook admits. Lucanis blinks in shock and feels his face warm at the idea of Rook caring for him. Rook looks away from him and sighs.

“I know you don't want to get in to anything because of Spite. And I respect that. But you deserve to know how I feel.” Rook continues. Lucanis feels his stomach twist at her words. Spite. It always comes back to the demon. Before he can say anything though, Rook is speaking again.

“You should also know that Spite doesn't bother me. If you ever changed your mind, Spite wouldn't be a problem for me.”

“Tell. Rook. How we. Feel?” Spite asks. Lucanis sighs through his nose. Being hit from both sides makes it seem like he's the one overreacting. But the idea of getting into a relationship with Rook is a terrifying one. While Rook has seen his mind and seen the darkest parts of him, he doesn't know if she really understands what all it entails. Spite and him are working together more often than not lately though. He can't deny that entering into a relationship with Rook is something he wants.

“Rook, I-” Lucanis cuts himself off though when Emmerich enters the room. 

“Rook! You're awake!” He says, not realizing what he just interrupted. Rook forces a smile at Emmerich. 

“Emmerich. It's good to see you.” Rook says. 

“We were waiting for you to wake up. I thought I heard voices in here so I thought I would check on you. Do you think you could make it back to the Lighthouse? I am sure you will feel better in your own space.” Rook nods and slowly tries to sit up. Lucanis can't help but to reach over and assist her. The smile she gives him is tight. He hates that he's once again made her feel like he doesn't want her. It couldn't be further from the truth. But he resigns himself to staying silent.

Together, Emmerich and Lucanis help Rook stand and then help her make her way to the Eluvian. She says a quick thank you to Teia and Viago on their way. Once back at the Lighthouse and back in her room, Rook lays on the chaise. Lucanis produces a blanket from somewhere and lays it over her. Emmerich quietly excuses himself and Lucanis finds himself sitting next to Rook on the chaise. He debates saying anything but then steels himself.

“Rook. You can't put yourself in danger like that again. The world can't afford to lose you.” Rook's face screws up but before she can say anything, Lucanis cuts her off. “I can't afford to lose you. Especially not like that. You were right earlier, about me not being ready for anything. But you also deserve to know how I feel. How we feel. Spite cares about you just as much as I do and we'll do anything to keep you safe. But we can't do that if you throw yourself into danger every chance you get.”

“Lucanis…” He places a hand on her face and she leans into it.

“I can't give you a relationship right now. And for that I'm sorry. But never doubt that I, we, care for you.” Lucanis is afraid of her response but she simply nods and breathes out a soft okay.

“Will you stay with me? Until I fall asleep?” Rook asks, her voice timid. Lucanis is helpless against her plea. 

“Of course, Rook.”

And so he stays by her side, long after her breath evens out and she slips into sleep. Watching her be so vulnerable so willingly around him stirs something in him and he vows in that moment to figure out his shit so he can finally be with her.

Until then, he'll watch over her like an avenging angel.

[romanitas]

peers out into the abyss, in the year 2024. dusts off spy au tag after nine (??????) years. anyone still here?? hello. i finally bring more of it. here it is on ao3 if tumblr is rude about it.

-

It all comes out rather mechanically and professionally, but Annabeth thinks that might make it all worse.  She knows there are aspects of her life she isn’t allowed to share, and she avoids details like who exactly she works for. It’s almost like she’s giving a summarizing report to a superior, not a boyfriend. But at the look on his face as she unweaves her life, she realizes she should probably stop thinking of Percy Jackson as her boyfriend. She is an infiltrator who steamrolled her way over his life, and he watches her with a deep undercurrent of hurt and hostility.  “I was just supposed to find out more about what was happening with Jason’s dad,” she says, her voice hollow and apologetic. “With the company. I didn’t expect…” Luke and gunshots. Dragging Percy through a dangerous situation when he was only meant to be a window into information. Piper and Jason to be solid, lovely friends. Percy Jackson to arguably be the best relationship she’s ever had. 

“I’m sorry.”

Percy’s quiet. He’d stayed quiet the whole time she spoke, graciously allowed her the uninterrupted time to explain herself, even when she knew she hadn’t deserved it. Annabeth feels like she’s standing on glass, but she’s not about to make the next move. He looks at her, then looks around the room, then back at her. Percy is an unexpectedly thoughtful guy, but this level of silence churns her gut.  She swears she hears the clock ticking. “So, do you like, not even care about penguins?”

She stares at him, befuddled. “What?”  Percy crosses his arms, angrily tapping his fingers against his bicep. “That’s what you talked to me about, when we met. You asked me about penguins.”  The fact that he remembered really shouldn’t surprise her. Her face falls; her reply is haphazard. “Everybody cares about penguins.” “Good, because if you lied about penguins on top of everything else, we might really have a problem.” His tone is bitingly sarcastic, a bullet of its own kind, and she flinches, however deserved.  “I’m sorry,” she mutters, again. “Annabeth, you lied. About everything. About - about - ” He trails off and throws his hands up in the air, before grabbing his water and chugging about half to cool himself down. She doesn’t really know how much it’ll actually cool him down, but it’s his go-to.  “I was going to tell you. That’s why I wanted to meet you - before Luke showed up -” Percy glowers. “Then what? You just - you thought everything would be fine?” She shakes her head. “I didn’t know what! I just knew I had to stop lying!” “Yeah? Took you how many months?” He pauses. “Months. You’ve been pretending to date me for months.” It’s like the reality of that finally, wholly sinks in for him, and his anger flashes with heartbreak heavy enough to punch her own. She can’t even reach out to him. The urge is there, but she restrains it, knowing full well she’s lost the privilege of touching him.  “It was my job, Percy,” she says after a moment, a weak attempt at some sort of defense she knows won’t hold up.  “You’re not even an architect.” He says it like that surprises him most of all, but she supposes she had been rather passionate about it. She knows as much about design as she does intelligence. “No,” she admits, then admits something else not many people do know.  “But I almost was.” He looks at her again, with regret, anger, and even a sort of empathy she doesn’t think she deserves. “I watched you shoot someone.”  Her demeanor betrays her, as she feels her eyes well up. “I had to.” “I know,” he says quietly, frowning. He closes his eyes and turns away from her, pressing his hands against the kitchen counter and leaning against it, like somehow it’s another realization that hammers in the reality of his girlfriend. 

Annabeth uses the brief respite to furiously wipe at her eyes. She doesn’t know how to salvage this. She wants to, badly. She’s simultaneously done one of the best and worst jobs she’s ever been assigned. Discovering Luke changed the game. Falling in love with Percy altered her life entirely. 

It takes a few minutes, but Percy finally turns back around to look at her. He watches her like she’s a stranger despite the knowing flicker to his eyes. He knows a lot about her, the side of her that isn’t a spy, the side of her she sometimes wishes could be present more often. But she is a spy too, and part of the job description includes sabotage. She’s always been very good at that. She’s just never sabotaged herself before. 

“I told you I loved you,” he says, and that hurts most of all, because it sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Like he can’t believe he’d gone and fallen for her, that he played right into her hands. 

Her expression shatters. “I know,” she says, the words catching. She has to tell him now, because she doesn’t know if she’ll get another chance. It’s a ruinous confession but there’s no escaping it. “And I - I fell in love with you too, Percy. I wanted to tell you so badly.”

He looks gobsmacked. “How? When it was all just - just bullshit to you?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “No. It wasn’t. It might have started that way, but -”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Annabeth? How can I possibly know anything you say to me is going to be the truth at this point? I just watched you - watched you take on some guy, shoot him in the leg, and work with a whole team of super spies, and now you’re here trying to tell me you love me?” He almost sounds desperate to believe it himself. Like he doesn’t want to not love her. He runs a hand through his hair, and Annabeth doesn’t know what to say to any of that. “Fuck. Jason and Piper, they trusted you too.” 

“I -”

His face darkens. “I introduced you to my mom.” He whirls on her, eyes hard. “Is my mother safe?” 

Annabeth nods immediately, and the look he gives her might be the worst one yet. “I had a team check on her apartment. And someone’s watching outside, just to be sure.” 

Relief washes over him, but anger still bubbles under the surface. Maybe she never should have gone to meet Sally. Maybe this wouldn’t be happening now, because somehow it feels like Sally Jackson is one of the pieces that made everything feel more real. But that’s wishful thinking, because there was no future with Percy Jackson in the cards under the circumstances in which she first came into his life to begin with. She foolishly allowed herself to feel like maybe there could be - like the laughing and the cuddling and the smiling and the happiness that swarmed inside her could be genuine, if she let go of so many other pieces. If she stopped being a liar. 

Luke always did bring out the worst in her, but she doesn’t even know if she can wholly blame him. Percy’s reaction to the truth was doomed to exist, no matter how she admitted herself to him. Perhaps they were doomed from the start too. She knows that. She just wishes she didn’t know that. 

“It explains some things,” Percy says slowly, like he doesn’t want to say it at all. “I guess I tried to ignore them. I really wanted this to work. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Percy.” 

His face is crestfallen. “And I feel like I don’t even know who you are, Annabeth.”

He looks at her for a very, very long time. Annabeth doesn’t keep track. She’s run out of things to say, run out of excuses, run out of apologies, and Percy looks burnt out on his anger. He’s cradling it, afraid to let go, but tired of holding it. 

He deflates. “I can’t…” 

Annabeth swallows. Waiting. It feels like something of an end. 

“Get out. Just go, please.”

She does.

[stargazer-sims]

The Art of Redemption

(part 9)

previous // next // story index

—————

"You would've made a great parent," Stan says.

Stan and Beth-Anne are sitting at a table by the window in their favourite waterfront café. From their spot, they can see the wide wooden boardwalk and the grey expanse of the mist-veiled harbour beyond it.

The pewter coloured sky is promising more snow, but Beth-Anne doesn't mind. Winter is her favourite season. She loves how soft and harmless everything looks when covered by a fresh snowfall. The snow creates a dreamlike image with no deep shadows or sharp edges, and nothing that hints at the harshness of the real world.

At this time of year, the boardwalk is quiet and mostly deserted, and that's how Beth-Anne likes it best. She prefers an uninterrupted view of the sea, and it's much easier to gather her thoughts when there isn't a crowd. Even from behind a window, the sight of the empty boardwalk and the slowly undulating ocean water helps to settle her.

She's not entirely calm, but she reflects that she's certainly felt worse.

She has just finished pouring her heart out to Stan about the metaphorical roller coaster she's been on. She told him all about the confrontation between Brett and Nikolai, her chat with Brett afterwards and her misgivings about the stability of his home life, and her persistent worry that Nikolai isn't showing much progress in recovering from the incident, even after several days.

To add to her troubles, Eden's parents seem to have developed a sudden and deep-seated fear that their child will get seriously hurt at the rink, and informed her this morning that they want to pull him out of both group classes and individual training.

Although they didn't come out and say it directly, Beth-Anne suspects this has to do with Nikolai and his injury. The Seong family doesn't know Nikolai. He and Eden are definitely aware of each other, but they've never met. Still, if Evie and George Seong are even half as tuned-in to the skating world as their son, she doesn't doubt they know all about what happened at the Four Continents.

Predictably, Eden didn't take his parents' expression of their concerns very well. The skating-obsessed little boy had reacted by creating the most dramatic scene possible; refusing to take his skates off, throwing himself to the ice and howling for all he was worth when his mother and father came to pick him up.

Beth-Anne sighs. All she needs now is for something to happen to make Mariah cry, and her students will have completed a streak.

"I'd be a shit parent," she says to Stan. "I can barely cope with the six kids I've got, and they're not even mine. Well, five I guess, since Nikolai is hardly a kid. Four, if I lose little Eden."

"You're not going to lose him," Stan predicts. "Kid with that much talent? Christ, from what I've seen, some day he might even be better than Nikolai. His parents would be out of their minds to make him quit."

"Tell that to them."

"I won't have to. If he can't make it clear to them himself, what's gonna happen if they pull him off the ice will do the job. I've watched him skate, and I swear to God... that child's entire body language shouts pure joy when he's out there. What do you think would happen if they took that away from him?"

"I don't want to think about that," she says. "I can't think about another one of my boys fading away." Her throat hurts, and the half-eaten slice of raspberry cheesecake on the plate in front of her no longer looks appetizing. Her stomach clenches as if she might be sick. "Everything's so fucked up right now, and I don't know what to do."

"Beth, look at me." Stan reaches across the small table and covers her hand with his. "Take a deep breath, and then tell me how much of the shit that's going on right now is actually something you can control."

She tries to meet his gaze, but her eyes start to sting and she lowers her head so he won't have a full view of her if she starts crying. "I... I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Stan's tone is firm, but not unkind. "You have no control over other people's choices. You have no control over how they act or what they feel. The only person you have control over is you, and when shit gets bad, the only feelings and actions you're responsible for are yours."

"Yeah, but—"

"No 'buts'. You know I'm right."

"I guess."

"No 'guess', either."

"Sorry."

"Tell me something," Stan says. "Are you being kind and fair? Are you really listening to your kids and doing your best to understand what they need?"

"Yeah."

"And are you helping them get what they need?"

"Of course," she says. "As best as I'm able to."

"Then, you're doing fine." Stan squeezes her hand lightly. "Those three boys and Mariah, Katie and Ruby, they love you. Anyone can see that, and anyone can see how much you love them. You don't need to be able to fix everything. You just need to be present for them, and it sounds like you are, so how about you stop beating yourself up, yeah?"

"I want them to be happy. I hate it when they're hurting."

"I know." Stan still hasn't let go of her hand. He grips it a little tighter and adds softly. "Just like I hate it when you're hurting. You think I don't wish I could wave a magic wand and take all the pain away from you? If I could do that, I would, but I can't."

She turns her hand so she can finally grasp his fingers in return. "This is enough," she says. "You being here with me. Being my friend and listening to all my problems."

"It's enough for your students too," he tells her. "Most people aren't looking for miracles."

"Is it going to get better?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Yeah, but... can you just tell me, please? I need to hear somebody say it."

"It'll get better. It always does." He smiles. "Your boys will be fine. Little Eden will get to keep skating, and Brett will grow out of needing to be constantly reassured, and Nikolai won't grieve forever."

"And what about me?" she asks.

Stan's gaze on her is steady. "There's more on your mind than all the stuff with your boys."

It's not a question. He knows her well enough that he doesn't need confirmation. What he's really doing is offering her an easy entry into talking about it. Stan is good at that, getting people to open up to him.

She closes her eyes and concentrates on the warmth of his hand. Stan isn't a physically affectionate person, but he knows when she needs grounding and he knows how to do it.

He'd sat with her and held her hand for hours when she'd been recovering in the hospital after her accident. He'd read books to her, some in English and some in his native Czech, so that she could hear his voice without having to say anything in reply. He'd dried her tears like no one else in her life had ever done. Stan has never been repulsed by her scars, never been afraid of her past.

Stan Kovac loves her like her parents should have. There's never been any question in her mind about that. He's not her real father, but he's the father she needs.

"It's the nightmares," she practically whispers. "The nightmares are back. Flashbacks too."

"How long?" Stan asks.

"I've been having nightmares since Four Continents. The flashbacks... they started up again a few days ago."

"And the drinking?" he probes gently. "That too?"

She shakes her head. "No. I promised you I wouldn't, and I meant it. I almost slipped up, but I got scared. Of what would happen, I mean. What I might do."

"You should've called me."

"I was scared."

Her voice is barely audible, but Stan still catches her words. "I wouldn't have judged you, little bee. You know that," he says. "Milena and I would've taken care of you. You and your Nikolai both."

"I'm sorry."

"No," he murmurs. "No, miláčku. You have nothing to apologize for. You're doing your best, and I know you've been trying very hard to manage everything. No one should expect more from you than that."

She tries to keep it together, but hearing him use the same term of endearment for her that he uses for Alžběta, his own daughter, causes something inside her to break. She's been holding so much in, fighting so damn hard to be strong for everyone, when all she really wants is to let go. She longs for somebody to take over the fight for her, just for a little while, so she can rest and not have to worry or be afraid. She wants someone to protect her like a parent protects their small child, to shield her from all the monsters waiting in dark closets, hungry to destroy her.

Without warning, an involuntary whimper escapes her. She pulls her hand away from Stan's and presses it over her trembling lips instead. Her eyes are streaming tears, blurring the world around her so that her surroundings no longer have meaning.

Stan doesn't say anything. He stands up, pulls some cash from his pocket and places it on the table between their two unfinished dessert plates. Then, he’s standing next to her chair, taking the hand that's not covering her mouth. He leads her toward the door, and then outside into the chilly February air.

Out on the boardwalk, Stanislav Kovac who rarely hugs anybody, pulls her into his arms and holds her tight. The last vestiges of her self-control disappear. She buries her face in the scratchy, vaguely peppermint-scented warmth of his old wool coat and lets out all her frustration, self-doubt, exhaustion, pain and fear in sobs that threaten to take her breath away.

She has no idea how long they stand there, but eventually her tears run out. She feels drained, and she doesn't want to move. In the back of her mind, she even wonders if she can. It would be nice to stay in the safety of Stan's embrace forever, as impossible as she knows it is.

"Let's go home, little bee," Stan says.

She tries to reply, but the only sound her aching throat produces is a tiny, pitiful squeak. She wants to tell him she likes hearing him call her 'little bee'. The pet name he gave her years ago is hers alone, and it speaks volumes to her desperate heart.

"We'll stop by your house first," he continues. "You'll need some things if Milena and I are going to keep you for the night."

"Wh-what... what about Nikolai?" she somehow manages to ask.

"We'll bring him as well, if he wants to come," says Stan. "There's plenty of room for both of you. He can have the downstairs guest room, and you can have Alžběta's old room. We've redecorated it. I think you'll like it."

She moves her head against his shoulder in her best version of a nod. "Okay."

"You can have a nice meal and a hot bath and a good long sleep. If you're feeling better in the morning, then we'll talk. Okay? And if you think you need a professional, I'll help you get in touch with somebody."

She sniffles. "No. I had my fill of shrinks a long time ago. I just... I need to tell somebody everything. And I need someone to tell me I'm going to be okay, that I'm not too fucked up to be normal. That I'm not broken."

Stan strokes the back of her head, just once, smoothing down her windblown hair. "We're all broken, Beth. Every one of us in our own way, and that's all right. It's okay to be broken. The important thing is not to let yourself believe you can never be mended."

[autistic-creature-appears]

Thanks for the save - Sonadow Prime (ONESHOT)

A/N: Anything will bold, italics, and underlines is an A/N. 

Literally screeching at the show it feeds my sonadow brainrot sm!!

This was more of writing practice than anything (and I felt bad for not giving yall stuff for a long time)

Sonic

By the time I registered the fact that missiles were headed toward me, it was too late. I closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion that would surely launch me far away from my current position.

But it never came.

I opened my eyes and saw Shadow carrying me. I heard him say the words "Probably gonna regret that," over my shoulder. 

"Aw, I heart you too, Shadow," I replied.

While it was really just a teasing joke thrown his way, there was a bit more... depth to the phrase too. 

We got back to the fight.

--

Shadow

I was fighting the "child-like" member of the Chaos Council when my guard fell and he grabbed me. I felt the robot's crushing grip more and more each second. I couldn't move. He pointed something I can only think to be a missile launcher at my face, preparing to shoot me dead. 

In that instant, I heard Sonic call out to me. I turned my head and saw him running toward the robot and me. In a split second, he was here, attacking the robot. I fell to the floor.

I wanted to get up and help, but I was incredibly tired. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Sonic's battle with the two Chaos Council members. He was moving much faster than he normally does, I noted.

--

I sorta forgot how the episode ended or what happened after these scenes, so forgive me-- Just think of this as an alternate ending. (although it wouldve been that anyway)

3rd-person POV

After Nine left Sonic by himself, Shadow walked over to provide some comfort. After all, depression gets in the way of efficiency, so he wanted to do away with that problem. At least, that's what he told himself. He knew deep down that he didn't like seeing Sonic sad. The sight of Sonic being hurt sent pangs piercing through his heart, and he didn't know why. But he knew the cause of it. 

Sonic's sadness.

"..."

He wasn't good at comforting others. Hell, he usually made them feel worse. 

So he decided to distract Sonic from Nine's betrayal.

"...Thanks for saving me earlier." Shadow noticed the rotation of Sonic's ears in his direction.

"You're... thanking me...?" 

Shadow understood the confusion, at least partially. He wasn't one to thank others. At most, he would dismiss it, or reply with anger instead. Still, it sort of hurt to think that Sonic wasn't capable of thinking Shadow had the decency to thank people once in a while.

"What else would 'Thanks for saving me earlier' mean?" 

Sonic chuckled, with a bit of nervousness lining his reply. "N-Nothing, it's just unlike you, Shadow."

"I still have the decency to appreciate actions too, you know." 

"Since when did I say you couldn't?" 

Shadow was slightly taken aback by Sonic's response, but managed to regain his composure enough to give a response of his own.

"Hm. You didn't." 

"Exactly, Shads." Sonic teased. "Stop assuming things about me and how I feel about you."

"Shads? Since when have I ever been called Shads?"

"Since now, obviously, you goofball!" Sonic stuck his tongue out easily. 

Shadow chuckled, "Of course."

A moment of uninterrupted silence unfolded, as the two hedgehogs sat together. Until it was then interrupted.

Sonic looked at Shadow. "Since we're on the topic of thanking people..."

Shadow's ears perked up just a bit.

"Thanks for the save earlier, when the missiles were headed for me."

"Well, I couldn't just let you die, now could I?"

Sonic laughed a bit at that. Shadow noted how joyful his laugh sounded, full of happiness and with a charming ring to it. 

"Well, yeah, but you could've also continued fighting and finished off Dr. Deep. I probably would've survived anyway." Sonic added under his breath, "Although maybe not in fighting condition..."

Another moment of silence hung between them.

"I don't like it when you're hurt."

Sonic looked mildly surprised at Shadow's statement, but he managed to reply with a tease anyway.

"Ah, so do our fights not count?" 

Shadow smirked back.

"I should've said 'I don't like it when someone that isn't me hurts you.' " 

Sonic laughed again, this time much more than before. Shadow let out a few laughs of his own.

"I like spending time with you, Shadow."

"Me too, Sonic."

--

Aight so if i remember correctly, Shadow actually isn't fighting Dr Deep when he saves Sonic, he's hiding from the Chaos Council (they think he died). But this is a fanfiction so I do whatever I want. Hell, I could've made Obama appear out of nowhere and recite the vaporeon copypasta (although I'd never live it down if I wrote that)

[consistentlyamess]

We'll see about that - Chapter 2⎮‘Cause you’ve got too many scars to hide

[4.8K] who?me?getting carried away? never!

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: You just wanted a fresh start but you might get more than you bargained for when the sleepy town of Hawkins lives up to its reputation.

warnings: takes place after season 4, 18+ , MDNI, slight age gap (reader is like 2 yrs older than Steve), canon typical violence, mentions of a lonely childhood, mentions of difficult relationship with parents, swearing, eventual smut, abusive relationship, brief stancy storyline, strangers to friend to lovers, pining, storm, pnaic attackish happening, mentions of blood and injuries, slowburn, flashbacks in italics, i changed a tiny thing compared to the sneak peek but i think it's better this way, sorry and lmk if i missed anything!!

A/N: HI HELLO!! thank you for your patience and all, it did take a lot longer to churn this chapter out that I expected but here we are!! comments, like reblogs are apprciated as always or just come chat at me! And as always 💜💜💜 TY for reading!!!!💜💜💜 Fic Masterlist Previous Chapter I Next Chapter Coming Soon

���You sure you have everything?’ Laura asked with a worried look in her eyes. 

‘Yeah, I think so. Wasn’t much to begin with really.’ You tried to laugh it off but it came a little broken. A little less careless than you would’ve liked. 

‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more.’ Laura almost whispered and gave your upper arm a light squeeze. She tried to be encouraging but it was more along the lines of ‘I’m sorry’. 

‘You did way more than you ever signed up for Lore. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now.’��

‘I just-‘ She tried to finish but couldn’t. She just shook her head instead and searched your face a little.

‘How’s your nose?’ She touched the gauze for a second. 

‘I’ll be fine Lore. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. The doctor said I won’t even be able to see it in a couple of months. The stitches in my eyebrows might show a little. But you’ll have to be really closely. It’s all gonna be fine. I promise.’

She nodded hurriedly, fervently. Willing your words to be true. 

‘You’ll call me when you get there?’ 

‘Of course! And I’ll write and maybe you can come to Hawkins sometime.’ You smiled whistfully. Maybe someday. 

‘Okay. Are we completely sure that the old car is taken care of?’ 

‘Hundred percent, yes. The plate is gone and it was sold like two states away.’ She said a lot more confidently. That they could take care of. The least they could do, she felt like

You took a deep breath.

‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’ 

You hugged each other and suddenly it did feel a lot more like saying goodbye. You cried in the past few weeks. A lot. But it was mostly out of frustration. Maybe anger. The sadness of it all you tried to keep hidden, even from yourself. It was too much to bear all at once. You had to keep going and if you let yourself consider the full weight of it all, it might crush you and the hole thing would fall apart. You couldn’t let that happen. For Laura. For your mom. For yourself. You kept it together though, the roared up, you watched Laura disappear in the rearview mirror and your were off. You drove about ten minutes before you had to pull over and cry for a good five minutes, uninterrupted because the tears just kept blurring your vision. This was it. You did it. You got out. 

——

Fall arrived with full force in Hawkins in the middle of September. Leaves started ruffling slightly more dryly in the trees, the sun became less punishing, nights started to feel a lot more cozy with a cup of tea in your hand. 

You did meet Miss Kelly in the end. As well as the other teachers. Well, the remaining ones. You never really had difficulty with creating connections. You were nice and open to people. You had a good sense of humor and way of putting people at ease fairly quickly. One of the reasons you thought Robin gravitated towards you. The teachers of Hawkins Elementary? Not so much. You, yourself were a little bit rusty. You became a tad more guarded and careful but that was nothing compared to them. They avoided eye contact, dodged every invitation and initiation of conversation. The children were a lot similar. The reward stickers didn’t work, you scaresly got a chuckle or a smile when you made jokes or tried to ease conversation. They came in, they did the work and that was it.

In this environment it didn’t take long for an uneasy feeling of impending doom to set in the pit of your stomach. It was unsettling to say the least. With work kicking in and trying to crack the code to the good graces of your students or at least easing their worries a little you didn’t really have time to hangout with the crew. You shared a coffee with Nancy here and there and you really cherished those mornings. You totally got what Steve saw in her. She was smart and kind and made you feel welcome. But under the demiour exterior she still had a kick to her. Some fire and fierceness that made you quite sure that she could kick anybody’s ass if she wanted to. Will slowly became a regular after classes to hangout, talk about art and get some tips as well. You felt a lingering sadness in him that you were all too familiar with. But you could also feel how he softened up after being shown kindness. It broke your heart a little bit but you were happy to provide those moments of serenity. A little relief feels like a lot at certain times. Jonathan usually picked him up and you chatted sometimes. You felt a kinship with that you couldn’t really place, until it was made clear that their father was also an asshole and he, just like you, was somewhat of a weird kid in high school. Everytime the topic of Nancy came up however, he immediately became more guarded and tried to avoid the subject as much as possible. You were extremely curious but didn’t want to push him. 

—-

The third hiccup happens when you and Robin are arguing about a movie at Family video. 

‘What? No fucking way, there’s nobody who’s hotter that Pheobe Cates!’

‘Thank you!’ You hear Steve shouting out from in between the rows. Robin gives you a ‘see?’ look. 

‘Okay, not the best company, but I do stand by it. Phoebe Cates and maybe Molly Ringwald.’ 

‘Are you sure you’re straight?’ Robin asks you with a playful tilt in her head. You don’t have a chance to answer because the whole store shakes. It’s an earthquake. You heard about them but never experienced one. Your balance is thrown off, some tapes hit the ground but the shelves stay and for a second you’re not sure if it’s really happening. Robin then disappears behind the counter, Steve calls out and from 83 you to 92 percent certainty that it’s real. Robin emerges, Steve gets back and a blind man wouldn’t miss the look they share. 

‘Peach’ Steve comes up behind you. ‘ You okay?’ He asks. He’s holding your elbow and at this point you’re not entirely sure where the disorientation is coming from. He squeezes a little harder. ‘Hey, everything’s alright, we’re all good.’

‘What was that?’ You ask in a voice that’s a little weaker that you’d like it to be. 

‘It was an earthquake, they happen here sometimes, we’re all good, but I’m gonna need you to go home now, okay?’ 

‘But-’ 

‘No! Sorry, but no.’ you can feel the way he softens from one second to the other. ‘No, I need you to go home. We know how to handle this, we’ll check in tomorrow and everything will be fine, but you have to go home. Please.’ He’s pleading and the honey brown eyes have their charm whether you’re willing to admit or not. You tell yourself that he’s right. That you’re gonna be safer at home.

So you go. While you’re driving home a storm breaks out. And not just any storm. It was properly raging. Lighting after lightning came down from the sky and the thunders were just sort of blending into each other. You fucking hated storms. The wind was howling and the second you got into the apartment, you cowered away into the corner of your living room. How did it get so bad, so quickly? How was this even possible? Was this the curse everybody was talking about? Catching yourself in the whirlpool of your thoughts, you gripped your knees tighter to your chest. What a fucking pathetic sight, you thought to yourself. It’s just a fucking storm and you’re crouching in the corner like a frightened puppy. Look at yourself, and you think, you can take care of yourself. Adorable. It made your skin crawl because it was him talking. It was his words, his voice, even without him you had him in your head. Grabbing at the sides of your head you tried to stop it. Tried to physically squeeze the thoughts out. But it didn’t work. Turning the TV on also didn’t help much. Your breath quickened, you could feel your heartbeat in your ears and the tears started flowing down your face. You don’t have a sense of time anymore. It might have been a few minutes, it might have been hours. You don’t even have it in you to glance at your watch. 

‘Nonononono’ you practically whined. ‘No, please, stop it. Just stop it please.’ The storm, this feeling, the fear, all of it. You couldn’t drown it out and it made you feel paralyzed but also clenching all your muscles at the same time. Laura told you that her therapist suggested a check-in with herself about every 30 minutes to unclench her jaw. She told you it really helped her. You tried. You really did. But you couldn’t tell your jaw from your shoulders anymore and nothing worked. 

Another shock came to your system when there was a knock at the door. Everything became even more blurred around you and you thought you might throw up. You wanted to go get the gun but you couldn’t move.

‘Go away!’ It was a guttural scream. It came from somewhere deep and instinctual that has been secluded for so long. You were sobbing at this point and then you heard it. Through everything, you still heard it. 

‘Peach?! Is that you? It’s Steve. Are you hurt? Can you open the door?’

Steve. It clicks in your brain and you could swear your heart stopped the same second the thunder and lightning miss a beat. Everything is quiet just in that second and you feel like the world changes settings just for you. Like a personal little raining cloud fizzles, disappears and a warm light appears above your head that starts to melt your frozen limbs and fried out nerve endings. Your movements are still rigid but you feel your fingers twitch.

‘Steve-‘ You whisper in front of yourself and lean forward. He knocks again and you call out a little louder this time. Shedding your blanket, your body starts cooperating. Just keep crawling toward the warm voice. Still, by the time you make it to the door, he’s saying he will break it down if he has to and is not leaving until he sees you. 

The door opens up and he’s standing there, relief washing over him when he lays eyes on you, just to quickly be replaced by concern again. 

‘Hey, what happened, ‘re you okay?’ He wants to hold you so bad but for now is satisfied with finding your fingers in the dark and touching them. You nod, as best as you can, which admittedly is not very good. 

‘W-why didn’t you ca-call?’ You ask just to regret it with the next breath because your throat and voice are wrecked from the sobbing. 

‘Phone lines are out. I also didn’t want to spook you. The last time you got a phone call, you acted a little funny...’ He gets it out in one breath, rushing through the sentence. ‘What happened, did you get hurt?’ He looked you over, searching for something. Teared fabric, blood, something. You put your hands on his shoulder in an attempt to calm or at least slow him down and it only registers properly then that he’s fully drenched.

‘Shit, you’re completely soaked through! Come in, let’s get you dry.’ You’re still unsure of your movements but you usher him in, despite his muffled and somewhat weak protests. He wanted to stay but unlike you he did have some teared fabric and blood on him that you were yet to notice. He didn’t want you to see that but he did crave some comfort after watching Nancy holding Jonathan’s hand while Robin patched him up. He was selfish, he knew that. He tried to tell himself that it has to mean something that after his arm was bitten by a demobat his first thought was to check on you on his way home. He just wanted to see your house, maybe some lights, possibly you moving in front of a window. But he couldn’t see anything other than the flickering of the TV and after the night he didn’t take it as a good sign. Or just really wanted to see you. He thinks both might be possible, even if the letter might make him a little creepy. 

You lead him to the bathroom, the new purpose giving a little stillness to your limbs and voice. 

‘I can put your clothes in the drier for a quick round and get you something to change into. The guy who lived here left some st- Jesus fucking Christ what the hell happened to you?’ the moment you turned on the light you saw it. The cuts, the bruises, the blood, some dried, some fresh. 

‘You should see the other guy’ he tried to give you a cheeky smile but you could tell he was hurting. 

‘Did you get into a fight? Who did this?’

‘Yeah, something like that. But I’m gonna be fine, I promise, I’ve had much worse. Ask anyone, Dustin we’ll gladly tell you about every single time I got my ass handed to me.’ His face is hurting, he’s cold but all he can think about at this moment is that he hates you’re worrying about him. He hates the way your eyebrows crease together as you try to assess the damage he’s taken. He hates the way your hands hesitate to reach out. You clearly had a rough night yourself and he hates he’s making it worse. You open your mouth like you’re gonna say something but it closes again.

‘Okay’ you say finally. ‘Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit.’ 

He’s dumbfounded for a moment but ultimately glad you’re not asking questions. He’s agitated, he’s scared, he’s alone and he doesn’t trust himself with keeping a secret now. If you start asking it might all just spill out from him which he desperately wants to avoid. You can’t get anywhere near this. Well, not any nearer. 

You come back with hands full of stuff - dry clothes hanging off of your arm, a glass of water in your hand, the first aid kit in the other. 

‘Here’ you start by handing him the water. After laying the clothes on the side of the tub, you hand him an aspirin. ‘This’ll take care of the pain for now. You can take a shower if you want to, then I’ll disinfect your wounds, get some bandages and if you get a good night’s sleep, you’ll be better by tomorrow.’ You spoke so softly, he immediately calmed down and for a moment even forgot that he just barged in on you, on your weekend no less. He forgot to look away for a second though and his eyes started searching yours. Your face was puffy, your eyes were red and there were some sniffles here and there.

‘Were you crying before I got here?’ 

‘Thank you usually works in this situation.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry, I am very thankful but I came here in the first place to make sure you were okay and as far as I can tell, you’re not.’ 

‘I- It’s just… I fucking hate storms.’ Your arms come up, wrapping around yourself. Not being able to hold his gaze you glance down to the tiles and take a deep breath. ‘I’ll be fine, I just want it to be over.’ You start moving for the first aid kit. ‘But you’re a pretty good distraction, so let’s get you cleaned up, shell we?’ You leave him to change and when you go back he’s sitting on the top of the closed toilet waiting for you. You’re meticulous but soft, determined but attentive and the way you balance the disinfectant, the cotton pads is almost hypnotic to him. In return the sense of purpose anchors you and you’re able to tune out almost everything that’s not connected to helping Steve. When you get to a particularly nasty cut above his eyebrow, he hisses. 

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m almost done.’

‘No, you’re okay, this is what you’re supposed to do, right?’ He quotes you back to you and even as his eyes are shut tight you can tell that his face is about an inch away from slipping into a smug grin. He makes you chuckle and he swears it’s a better painkiller than the actual pill you gave him. 

‘Okay, there are a couple of pretty deep cuts here. I’m gonna need you to hold still. Hold onto something and tell me about a good memory.’ 

‘A good memory?’ 

‘Yeah. I learned it with kids. When I have to tend to them, making them talk keeps their mind occupied and lets me apply the disinfectant or put a bandaid on.’ 

‘Huh, that’s smart’ he looks up at you with a goofy grin and sparkling eyes and you have to clear your throat to remind yourself what you were doing. 

‘So, good memory. You have anything?’ 

‘Yeah, sorry, yeah, I got it. Do your worst.’ 

‘Alright, start talking, pretty boy.’ The nickname slips out so effortlessly, you almost don’t notice it. The way his lips part a little and the tip of his ears run pink clues you in that you did indeed say it out loud and he did hear you. 

‘Uhm, yeah, I, uh, the first thing that came to mind was the day I got my car. And before you roll your eyes, I know how it sounds and for a long time it was like that. Being the only 17 year old who was driving around in a brand new BMW instead of a banged up used car my parents passed down was pretty sweet. It was a guilt present from my dad because he forgot my birthday that year.’ A peng of pain hits your heart. He doesn’t sound very hurt now but you can imagine it wasn’t always like this. ‘I could drive my friends and girls around and it did feel like a sanctuary sometimes. Then those friends turned out to be not very good people, the girls turned out to be more interested in the car and pool in the backyard than me and shit happened and I got my heart broken and then I started driving this little shithead around and the car didn’t change and I basically still just drive people around but those people happen to really like me, for god knows why, and it got us out of some deep shit and I’m actually afraid of the day when it breaks down finally or I have to sell it or anything because half of my goddamn life is in that car.’ You pull away as he finishes his story and let his hair fall back to his forehead. You move back for a second to wipe a stray lock away from his eyes and then lean back to the sink. Your voice is barely above whisper as you speak again. 

‘You’re all done.’ He touches his face carefully and you watch him with soft eyes. ‘Thank you for telling me that. Technically it wasn’t one memory but I’ll let it slide for now.’ 

His smiles. 

‘What about you?’ 

‘What about me?’ You ask, tilting your head, crossing your arms. 

‘A good memory. I just laid my heart out for you, it would make me feel better if I wasn’t the only one.’ 

‘Okay, first of all, you told a semi-moving story about how much you love your car, ‘laying your heart out’ is a tad dramatic.’ You start packing the stuff you spread around the bathroom. ‘Second of all, I don’t need to be cleaned up or distracted, so maybe next time.’ 

‘Well, that’s not fair! C’mon, just one, just a tiny little story.’ 

‘God, you’re unbearable!’ You roll your eyes playfully. ‘This wasn’t part of the agreement and-’ You don’t get to finish the sentence because there’s a particularly loud crash, thunder and lightning coming down with a real fury. You jump with a gasp bumping your knee on the side of the tub. 

‘Fuck’ 

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Steve calls, coming up behind you. ‘You’re okay, it’s okay, it’s just a storm.’ He turns you to face him so he can find your eyes. He’s lying through his teeth but he needs you to believe that it’s just a storm. You’re too smart and stubborn for your own good. He can’t slip. 

‘I just really fucking hate storms.’ You say as you lay your forehead on his shoulder.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ He’s careful, he holds you so lightly because he’s scared you’re gonna come to your senses and pull away before he can properly figure out which floral scent is coming from your hair and which one is your perfume and can properly memorize the little baby hair on the nape of your neck or imagine how it would feel to be tickled by them in the morning. 

‘Just breath, I’m here. And maybe if you need some distraction, you could tell me about that good memory, now?’ 

You don’t look up, but you chuckle a little. 

‘Well, when I was a little girl there was this treehouse in the neighbor's yard. I was so jealous of it, I wanted it to have one so badly, or just go up in it, just once. But the house was mostly vacant and I got caught by my mom one time when I was trying to climb the fence, so I just stared at it and wished that someday, maybe I could play in it.’ 

Your voice was a little muffled because you were talking at the bathroom tiles but Steve was listening intently. He pictured you with a petulant little pout, sitting in a garden, burning holes in the treehouse with your eyes. It made him smile.

‘And then one day, out of nowhere, a family moved in. They had a daughter, Lilly, and she just invited me over one day when she saw me in the garden. We played and talked and given it’s not that hard to make friends when you’re eight, we did become inseparable almost instantly. I had such a good time, I almost forgot about the treehouse. I would’ve been happy to just spend the whole afternoon curled up in the grass, talking but then she said she wanted to show me her treehouse and I nearly started crying, I was so excited. We went up and it was everything I wanted and more. I think that was the highest I’ve ever been at that point, I could see the whole neighborhood and it felt like nothing could touch me there.’

‘We spent so much time there. It became like a sanctuary too. We went there when we got our first crushes, when she got yelled at, when we wanted to feel safe. On some summer nights we even slept out there and I think those were the best nights of my life.’ 

During your story Steve was stroking your arm up and down, soothing you, saying with every touch ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be your new treehouse, all you have to do is ask me’. 

‘Technically that wasn’t one memory either but I liked it, so I’m gonna let you get away with it.’ He squeezes your arm one last time and lets go slowly, trying to get you to look up at him. 

‘The storm passed I think. It’s just the rain now.’ 

‘Is it gonna come back?’ 

‘I’m not sure. Maybe. Hawkins has some weird weather sometimes.’ 

‘Hawkins seems to have weird everything sometimes.’ 

‘Yeah, that’s fair.’

With the weather getting back to something you can handle and the house quiet with the dim lights of the bathroom it starts hitting you how close the two of you are standing and how this whole thing has been very, well, for lack of a better word, cozy. Even if it was only the instinct to help someone, he quite literally saved your night. Maybe even you. You’re wondering why exactly he came here in the first place and you find some kind of answer in the way he's looking at you, the way he stayed with you in the storm. It’s the same need to take care of people. It’s the driving the little shitheads around even though they really are shitheads, it’s the trying to distract someone from pain and hurt by making them think about something nice, something happy, it’s the holding a burned hand under cold water and it’s the swiping a lock of hair away so it doesn’t land in their eyes. It’s not something that just leaves you. Heartbreaks and grief can suppress it for a while but the world has a funny way of bringing it out again in the most unexpected moments. Like in a tiny, poorly lit bathroom during a storm from hell, trying to wipe the blood from the cheekbones of the prettiest boy. You inhale sharply because your insistence to keep your distance might be wavering and you know it’s a bad idea. Steve’s still into Nancy, Nancy’s with Jonathan, Jonathan is acting weird, well, everyone’s acting weird. But you keep looking at each other and you’re almost a hundred percent sure, he has similar thoughts running through his mind. 

‘I uh, I should go, I think, I don’t want to bother you anymore.’ He starts talking finally, running a hand down the back of his neck.

‘You weren’t bothering me. If it wasn’t for you I would still be curled up in the corner of my living room.’

‘I can, you know, I can stay too. In a completely non-creepy way. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’ll gladly keep on distracting all night if needed.’ 

You don’t miss the slight double-entendre painting the words and you raise an eyebrow. 

‘In a non-creepy way, huh?’ He gets flustered when he fully understands what you mean and what he just said. He’s about to start protesting but his nerves prevent him from being quick on his feet. You save him, mercifully. 

‘I know what you mean, relax. And thank you, it’s very knight in shining armor of you but I’ll be okay now. You should go home, take a hot shower, drink some tea and get into bed. I’ll throw your clothes in the drier and get them back to you.’ 

‘Alright, yeah, you’re right. Thank you for taking care of me, Peach. You’re a lot better at this than I am or god forbid Robin.’ 

‘It’s alright. Thank you for distracting me, Harrington!’ 

‘Back to second names? Really? After all we’ve been through in the last like two hours?’ 

‘I mean, I gotta be careful. Can’t call you everytime there’s a storm, now can I? Gotta keep it professional.’ 

‘You can. You can call me in every storm. You can call me without a storm too, I left my number for a reason.’ You wince a little. 

‘Yeah, sorry I haven’t called, I guess. I’ve just been so busy with school and everything.’ You couldn’t let him know that you tried. You tried so many times but chickened out at the last second every single time. 

‘It’s okay. I can wait. You know where to find me.’ 

He starts walking towards the door and you follow him out. You fall back into silence again, listening to the rain on the roof and the remains of the wind quietly howling outside. 

‘Most of the bandages will last like a week I think but you should change the one above your eyebrow and the one on your left cheek sometime tomorrow.’ 

‘Thanks Doc. And seriously, call me if you need anything.’ 

‘Okay.’ You whisper with a soft smile. 

‘Good night, sweetheart. Get some sleep.’ He says as he comes close to you. He hesitates for a minute and then presses a barely there kiss to your hairline. 

‘Good night’ you whisper back. 

You clock the slight pause after he gets in the car and you watch as the maroon BMW leave. You wonder if this is going to be one of those moments you regret, wishing you could say what you wanted to say, wishing you could just ask him to stay or one of those moments you’ll see as dodging a bullet, wishing you could see everything in that moment.

[wall-legion]

May I

Rosie had never seen her best friend this way.

Guinevere Villemont had been a lot of things in the many years the two girls had been friends: impulsive, quick-witted (and quick-tempered), sarcastic, and sometimes overwhelming with her emotional swings. Rosie knew all this, and she appreciated all this. What she wasn't prepared for, however, was Ginny grabbing her arm when the Priory scholar who was going to help them walked out to meet them and squeezed hard.

"Gin, you're hurting me," she whispered.

"Sorry-!" Ginny hissed and let go, looking away from the tall charr who was looking down at Gixx as he was making introductions.

"Why are you being weird?" Because she was being weird: Ginny had never so much as looked at anyone back home no matter how many folks had sent love letters or how often she had been the target of pining looks as they had walked across the beaches and streets of Lion's Arch. Now she'd taken one look at this white furred charr with charcoal and smoke markings who'd joined them in Gixx's office, and suddenly she was acting like they were ten again and had been caught swiping pastries from that one woman who came into town every other week to sell.

"Who's being weird? I'm not being weird. You're being weird."

"Ladies." They both looked forward as Gixx cleared his throat, irritably, to get their attention back. "If we could continue uninterrupted?"

"Yes. Of course. My apologies, Steward Gixx," Rosie said in a subdued tone.

The asura nodded before continuing on. "As I was saying, Scholar Crispinus has been quite the asset to the cause since he joined us. A mechanical mastermind, which has been quite the gift with figuring out the dredge machinery in the aftermath of the Molten Alliance-"

"I had plenty of help from others, Steward," the charr interrupted gently. Rosie half expected Gixx to scold him as well, but the asura didn't seem to mind.

"Mm, quite. Well then! I will leave you all to get better acquainted." Gixx moved to open the door, clearly signalling that it was time for everyone who wasn't him to leave. The charr headed out first, while Rosie waited for Ginny to go first. She thanked Gixx privately before leaving as well, hearing the door shut behind her.

"Is he always like that?" Ginny said, in the tone of voice Rosie knew to be only half-joking. Rosie opened her mouth to start scolding her but Crispinus chuckled, surprising her.

"More often than not. You get used to it," he replied with the slightest grin pulling at one side of his mouth. "So. Guinevere and Rosamund, huh?"

"Rosie," came out of Rosie's mouth before she could stop herself, "and Ginny, actually. Sorry. Not to be rude."

"No, you're fine. I'd rather know now."

"So, what brought you to the Priory?" Ginny asked, folding her arms.

"Well… a lot of things. It felt like a better fit than the Black Citadel for me."

"So no warband, or..?"

"Ginny-!!" Rosie hissed at her.

The charr's face contorted slightly at that, as he looked down towards the ground for a moment before meeting only Rosie's gaze again. "There… was one. It's complicated. Nothing to weigh you two nice girls down with today. Here, let me show you around."

He took them on a brief tour of the Priory grounds- from what Rosie guessed, it was what he was permitted to show to outsiders, and was perfectly polite as he answered Rosie's questions as they walked around. Ginny, however, was uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. They said their goodbyes at the gate, and Crispinus stood and watched them leave until neither of them could see his tall, pale form at the top of the stairway any longer.

Ginny had left the Priory with a frown on her face, and Rosie could tell she was deep in thought about… something. She wasn't entirely sure what until the shorter girl suddenly exploded. "He hates me, doesn't he?"

"Who? Gixx?"

"What? No! Crispinus!"

"Well when you have to be so nosy about everything all the time," Rosie started before looking at her best friend. Ginny actually had tears in her eyes. "Oh gods. What's gotten into you? You've never gotten this way about anyone in the whole time I've known you!"

"I know, but… I feel really bad for offending him."

Sure you do, Rosie thought with an annoyed sigh, you're just embarrassed about the way you acted. "Well, you can apologize the next time you see him, I suppose."

She nodded, wiping her cheeks dry. "Yeah… yeah, I guess that will have to do."

She walked past Rosie, who just shook her head. She'd get over it in two minutes, tops. Something else would get under her skin, or her ire up, and she'd forget that she'd had this attraction to him in the first place. She could act normal the next time they had to interact, and that would be just fine.

***

It would be another month before they would need to call on Scholar Crispinus's help. In spite of her better judgment, Rosie had Ginny come along to the meet-up again… or maybe it had been Macha in her head, needling her to bring her along again and see what would happen. She swore sometimes her great-grandfather's best friend just provoked her into making decisions so she could bear witness to whatever messy aftermath came of it. Still, though, it had been a month: maybe she was over whatever flash in the pan infatuation that had come over her when they had first met Crispinus.

He already had set up camp by the time they arrived, and had traded his scholar robes for more practical engineer's armor. He was tinkering with something as they were approaching, but stopped and straightened up as they got closer. "Hello again," he said cordially. "How goes the commanding?"

"Well enough," Rosie replied. "How fares life in the Priory?"

"No one's burned it down yet, so I suppose much the same," he said with a chuckle.

"What are you working on?" Ginny was already over and looking at the device that sat on the ground next to Crispinus's tent.

"That? It's just a side project. Trying to reverse engineer a dredge spike trap but something inside isn't firing..." He laughed as Ginny turned to look at his notes. "Those won't help you, I wrote them in-"

"Old Charr. I can see that."

"You what." Crispinus looked from her to Rosie.

"Someone my mother knew taught her how to read it..."

"It was Uncle Tiran, the spring I was trying to jump roofs and I fell and broke my leg," Ginny interrupted. "I was bored to tears so he came over and taught me. He taught you, too, so we could write in code."

"I'm sorry that it's not something I could remember easily after the thing with my head happened," Rosie shot back before sighing. "Anyways. Yes, she knows Old Charr."

"It looks like you put a decimal in the wrong place, Crispinus."

"Did I?" He went to look where Ginny was pointing. "...burn me, I did. Good catch, Ginny. Thank you."

...she's blushing. She's actually blushing!

Yes, Macha, I am aware of that.

"Just glad I could help, Crispinus."

"Oh, you can call me Cris. It's much easier. More efficient too."

Oh now she's definitely blushing. Cogs and gears she is. You best hope this Priory business will let this guy join up with you, or Ginny might jump ship.

"Okay... Cris. You're welcome."

Rosie cleared her throat a little. "Ginny, we need to set up camp as well."

"Oh, yeah! Coming!"

[doublejango]

Blitz let them move away; don't smother him, he told himself, even if it left his heart aching because all he wanted was to be close. He stayed on his side of the couch, listening, taking it all in, and fighting to keep his expression calm as panic rose. This was going to be hard. Fuck, this was going to be so fucking hard.

When Stolas finished, Blitz climbed up to sit on the back of the couch. Resisting the urge to reach out, he held his tail on his lap and fidgeted with it instead, to keep his hands occupied. There was so fucking much that needed to be said and all of it was ridiculously important; if he started with the wrong thing, would it make everything worse? That was a tempting spiral, but Blitz had to force himself to stay out of it. Things couldn't really get much worse, right? So as long as it was any kind of step forward, it was better than nothing.

Besides. He wasn't going to let his fucking fears get the best of him. Stolas needed to be able to let it all out right now. He needed to be able to mourn, to feel his emotions, to let them breathe. He needed space to break--which meant Blitz needed to be the strong one for them, and he accepted the burden with a fierce, if frightened, love.

"So, first of all... Stolas, you saved my life. I was what, a tenth of a second away from death? If even that? And you saved me. You know that like, is a huge deal, right? You were brave as shit, when you... you didn't really have any reason to be. Cause you don't know how much I..." Hesitating, his eyes dropped for a moment and he frowned. With a small shake of his head a moment later though, Blitz looked back up and met their eyes again.

Don't say that yet, he told himself. Keep it simple. Don't overwhelm the man you love.

"It was huge. You doing that. And I hear you on being upset that you think you almost tore us apart, but Stol's... the way we, I mean imps and Hellhounds, the way we live, we're only ever one bad day away from the end anyway. The risk of ruin is like, always right there for us, you know? We're always on the edge, but the ground is tilted so we're always slowly sliding. So it's not like... as shocking, I guess? For me to almost die? As it might feel to you."

He let go of his tail, holding up a hand. Blitz closed his eyes, needing a moment more to compose his thoughts, hoping to go on uninterrupted. When he had everything in order, he let out a tight sigh and opened his eyes again.

"I know you'll help out more. When you can, you'll chip in for the utilities and shit. Stolas, I know that. Cause I trust you, and know you have a good fuckin' heart. But you don't need to rush into that.

"Babe, you... you got wounded. Pretty badly. Maybe not on the outside, but you can't tell ne the wound isn't there. You got hurt. Bad. And the last time..." Blitz's voice had been calm up until now, but as shame heated his face, his voice trembled. "The last time you got hurt, I didn't even come see you in the hospital. I should've. And maybe if I had then everything would be different now and--" No. Fuck. Calm the fuck down. Blitz reined it in. Another deep breath. Back to gripping his tail with both hands.

"My point is, I know you've just been hurt again. So much worse this time. And when we get hurt, sometimes we need to take time to heal. So I think... if you're... if you're okay with this idea. The best way for all of this to start? Is for you to just.... just take a few days. Try not to worry about how to fix shit, or help out, cause we'll get there together. Just... take a few days to rest, like you got the shit kicked out of you. Watch TV with me. Maybe like, maybe you can talk some sense into that fucker in the corner," he added, nodding back over his shoulder towards a squat, smirking houseplant that had half a jacket firmly gripped in its roots. "Fucker stole Loonie's favorite jacket last week and won't let go. But I mean, keep the focus small for a few days. Treat your body like it needs some time, cause your spirits sure as fuck do.

"Maybe we can start with me getting a start on breakfast while you find a book to read? I don't got a lot of them, and they're all trashy romance, but that librarian lady's real great and she lets me check 'em out. Even if you don't got the juice to actually start reading, dig through em and find one that maybe you'll want to?"

He felt a little like a dick for giving Stolas a task, especially something that might seem so petty and small, but they were going to have to one-step-at-a-time this shit. And on the plus side, Blitz's reading level was still fairly low, so he was bringing more simply written books home as he worked on improving it; hopefully, without the language being complex, it wouldn't be so hard for Stolas to just sort of mindlessly consume them a little when he was ready.

Blitz didn't know if he was doing any of this right, but it was worth it to try. Whatever it took to try and help his baby, it was worth it to try.

A soft, barely audible self-soothing coo is emitted. It still felt surreal. Impossible. But seeing the light in Blitz’s eyes and the curl of his tail — his chest aches. A warmth blooms through him. Blitz is safe and most importantly, alive. When he feels the soft touch of claws against his face, Stolas can’t help but lean into it. Stars, he has craved this tenderness. He wants it so desperately. There was only one thing stopping him from pulling Blitz into his arms and holding him there until every last tear was wrung from him until his throat felt too tight, too dry, and the impression of the imp’s body was permanently etched into him. Himself. 

He listens, hanging off of every word like a hopeful and saddened flower turning towards the sun. That’s what he is, after all. . . his Sun; the brightest star in the sky. A constant and powerful thing that chases every lingering fold of darkness out of its path. But Stolas doesn’t feel as though he’s deserving of that patch of sunlight; doesn’t think he’s earned the warmth that radiates from Blitz, least of all now. No matter how badly he wants to sink into it and nest within the comfort and safety being offered to him. And though he holds Blitz’s gaze through it all, Stolas winces. His own hands rise, framing the imp's face, gentle and afraid — as if his touch might invoke some horrible event all over again. ❝ Blitz, you almost died because of me. How. . . How can you . . . ❞ He gives an exasperated sound, withdrawing to press the palms of his hands against his eyes. He can’t stay still. It was too much. The owl carefully extracts himself from the couch, practically climbing over it to put the furniture between them. Now he averts his gaze.

❝ How are you not infuriated with me? What I suggested, what I did, what I established between us put you in danger in the first place! I should have known better. There is so much of what has happened that I wouldn’t dream of taking back or changing, and Stars! If I would have thought of it sooner, if I could have — it would have saved us so much. . . and maybe, just maybe none of this would have happened. But you cannot. . . . You can’t offer me sanctuary and family when I damned well nearly ruined yours! You have a daughter, Blitz! You have friends and an established career and all of that nearly came crumbling down — you almost DIED because of what I did. I need. . . .❞ Tears spill from red eyes, bright but not shining. Stolas turns away, beak clicking the moment he thumps the top of his head on the ceiling fan once more. This time it doesn’t threaten to fall, and the impact is less jarring. Nevertheless, he glares at it before hugging himself tightly. 

❝ You say I do not need to earn a place here, but why not? I think I do. I should! How can you just give me a place to stay and care for me? How can Loona so readily offer clothes to the one who nearly took her father away and ❞ But Stolas can’t conjure the words. He dissolves, and with the trembling that overtakes him, doesn’t trust his body to move. So the owl lets himself drop rather ungracefully to the floor. Drawing his legs close, Stolas buries his face and lets the wreckage of his emotions spill. He could not keep it in, could not hold his mask. But he can hide his face and do his best to stifle the sounds. 

❝ I will. . . I will do my best. ❞ He resigns himself to that and does not dare promise anything outright. Because he was already half of who he was; he felt so empty, so lost, and everything was uncertain. He tried desperately, over and over to remind himself it was only one hundred years. But it already felt so impossibly long, and he had no way of knowing what Via would think of him. They would become strangers.

Stolas wasn’t certain he could survive the aftershocks. But he would try. Maybe not for himself. He could do it for Via, and even for Blitz, but not himself. There was something tragic in it all, and he felt like sand slipping through fingers. Too small, too insignificant, too easy to miss or let go of. Just a pretty decoration to put in a glass and show off.

[babyboibucky]

White Noise

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has a new neighbor and she's even grumpier than him.

Word Count: 2,490

Warnings: TW!!! Domestic violence (not from Bucky, he’s a sweetheart in this 🥺)

A/N: I’d say I’m on a roll for writing new shit lately but I’ve got two ongoing series and a part 2 of a oneshot that I haven’t even updated for quite a while lmfao

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling before forcing them close again. He focused on the hard floor beneath him and the soft blanket tangled in between his limbs. His television was left open but with the volume at the lowest level. Bucky always slept this way, so that the white noise would help him ground himself whenever he would wake up from his nightmares.

A few minutes later, Bucky finally felt himself begin to doze off. A couple hours of uninterrupted sleep were good enough for him, at least he'd get some peace before his past would come back to haunt him.

Just as when Bucky was about to fall into a deep slumber, loud music began to boom through his walls, stirring him awake. He grunted as he sat up on the floor, turning around and staring at the wall separating his apartment from his neighbor. He didn't even know he had one until now. The music was loud, too loud that it wasn't even white noise anymore. It was just...noise. And as much as Bucky hated how silence triggered his self-destructive thoughts, this kind of noise wasn't something that he needed.

Bucky let a few more minutes pass just to see whether his neighbor would turn it down but then a new song started playing right after the first.

Grabbing his shirt, jacket and some sweatpants, Bucky quickly dressed up and headed out the door. He stood in front of his neighbor's door and could actually understand the lyrics of the song playing. It wasn't his enhanced hearing, the music was just that loud. His neighbor didn't even hear him knocking until he decided to use his vibranium arm to do so. Bucky had to hold back a bit in order not to break down the door at how hard he knocked on the door.

Mid-way through his knocking, the door finally opened and out his neighbor stepped-- you. Bucky frowned when you didn't even bother turning off your music when you opened the door.

"How can I help you?" you asked, your expression matching Bucky's.

Bucky scoffed, "I don't know, maybe turn down your music? It's like fuckin' two in the morning. You're not the only tenant in this building." he snapped.

"I can't sleep without music. And no one else has been complaining, just you." you said and was about to close the door right into Bucky's face.

Bucky was appalled at your rudeness and slotted his foot into your doorway before you could even slam the door shut.

"I just complained and you're not really going to do anything?" he asked.

"No. If other tenants can sleep through my music then so can you. Stop bitching around and leave me be." you huffed out and kicked his foot before closing the door with a loud thud.

Bucky blinked, unable to believe that you just did that. You actually kicked his foot and ignored his complaint. He knew that he was a bit harsh when asking you to turn down your music, but it was two in the morning! Why would you even blast music at such an ungodly hour? Bucky rubbed his face with his hand and headed back to his apartment.

He'll deal with you tomorrow. It wasn't like he was going to sleep through the entire night anyway.

-

And deal with you, Bucky did but it always ended the same. Bucky was surprised at how aggressive you were whenever he paid you a visit to complain. The first night he kind of understood your behavior, he wasn't the nicest then. But every single encounter he had with you after that, you were just borderline mean.

Bucky just arrived from having lunch out when he saw you unloading your car with a few more boxes. Over the past few days, he had learned that you were indeed new and just moved in a week ago. He also learned that the rest of tenants on his floor either slept like a fucking rock or had impaired hearing for them not to care about your music.

You struggled to carry all three boxes when you stacked them above each other. Bucky chuckled in amusement as he watched you attempt to carry them all twice. Obviously, you didn't want to do multiple trips but with the strength (or lack thereof) you were displaying, it would be an impossible task. Being the gentleman he was, Bucky decided to set aside his feud with you to offer his help.

"Let me help." he said as he approached you.

Your eyes softened up at him for a brief moment and Bucky thought that maybe you'd be kinder to him this time. Boy was he wrong because you immediately shot his offer down and ignored his presence.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice here. Just let me help so you wouldn't have to do multiple trips." he explained.

"I don't need anyone's help. How hard is that to understand?" you snapped and carried one box, brushing past Bucky to enter the building.

Bucky rolled his eyes and quickly grabbed your arm to stop you. He's had enough of your attitude and if you weren't going to even try to be nice to him, then he'd stop being the gentleman that he was.

"Why do you have to be such a little bitch?" For the first time, Bucky raised his voice at you.

He just wanted to confront you, not scare you so when you gasped out loud and dropped the box in your arms, Bucky's heart fell. Your eyes widened at him in fear, your hand quickly wrapping around the arm that Bucky grabbed. He realized that he had used his vibranium arm to grab you and was quick to regret it.

"Please don't touch me like that again." your voice was soft, almost a whisper and Bucky didn't expect for you to react like that.

He was expecting for you to yell at him, maybe even land a slap on his face. But instead, you shrinked and for the first time in a long time, Bucky saw someone look at him with fear like that. It was as if he was back to square one, back to the old version of him that he's been fighting so hard to forget.

-

It's been two days since the incident and Bucky still hadn't seen you around. He’s been wanting to apologize to you and patch things up. Your music still blasted through his walls so at least he knew that he didn't scare you enough to move away. Bucky's nightmares got worse and somehow, the incident with you was what violently shook him awake.

Bucky stared at his ceiling once again, his television turned off because he knew that you'd be playing your music out loud in a few. He was actually starting to get used to it and as much as he hated it, he often found himself singing along to the songs you had been playing.

Two am and there was still silence. Bucky laid on the floor as he waited for your music. Three minutes have passed and yet it remained quiet. Maybe you weren't home? Although he did see you from his balcony as you headed back inside the building after bringing your trash out earlier. Perhaps something else was keeping you busy? Why was Bucky even thinking about what you were doing? If any, he should be jumping at the opportunity to get some shuteye.

Bucky sighed and turned on the television like how he used to, turning the volume down and then closing his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep.

For a while, Bucky felt at peace for falling back to his routine before you moved in. Hushed whispers and soft cries caused Bucky to quickly sit up. He wasn't sure whether it was from the television or if his enhanced hearing was picking up something else. Bucky quickly turned off the television and sat in silence, closing his eyes to focus.

There was a loud thud coming from your apartment followed by a muffled sob. Bucky knew that something was wrong so he quickly dressed up and went to your apartment, knocking on the door continuously.

"Hey, it's me. Open up." Bucky called out and continued to knock when you didn't respond.

"Is everything okay in there?" he asked again, the silence from the other side of the door bothering him even more.

Bucky heard a few shuffles before he heard the door click. It slowly opened until you showed up, gaze downcast and hands trembling as you prevented the door from opening any further. Bucky couldn't even see through you at how you were blocking his view of your apartment.

"I'm fine. Just go." you softly said and attempted to close the door again.

Bucky frowned and held the edge of the door with his vibranium arm, stopping you from closing it and instead, pushing it open. You just allowed him to do that, something that confirmed Bucky's gut feeling that you were hiding something, or rather, someone.

"Man, just get the fuck out of here!" a guy exclaimed as he stood in the middle of your apartment.

Bucky was quick to notice the mess inside your apartment— clothes and chairs were strewn across the floor. His gaze went back to you and it was then that he saw the bruises on your arms and legs.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

You kept mum but saw the slow movement of your head, affirming his suspicions. The guy walked over to you and gripped your arm, violently pulling you behind him as he stood face to face with Bucky.

"It's none of your goddamn business." he threatened.

Bucky refused to look at the man and focused on you. He finally understood everything. Why you had been so aggressive towards him, why you reacted like that when he gripped your arm. You were afraid, not of him but because of what you were going through. This man had been abusing you and Bucky doesn't need to know for how long for him to understand your behavior.

"You just gonna fuckin' stand there or what?!" the guy asked, irritated at Bucky's presence.

"I think you should be the one to leave." Bucky said calmly, finally lifting his gaze to look at the man.

The man snickered, "Who the fuck are you to tell me that? You got the hots for my fuckin' girlfriend?" he asked.

"Leave her alone and never come back. I'll only ask you this once." Bucky warned, his jaw tightening as he stared at the man.

"Or else? You threatening me, man? You're gonna fucking regret it." the man chuckled before lifting his fist up to punch Bucky in the face.

Bucky rolled his eyes when he easily caught the man's fist in his vibranium arm, twisting it until the man looked at him in horror, screaming in pain. He let go of the man's fist and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer as he glared daggers at him.

"You are gonna fucking regret it if you come back here. If you ever lay a finger on her, so much as look at her...I'll find you. That's a promise." Bucky warned.

The guy was nearly in tears as he nodded in understanding, not trusting his voice. Bucky chuckled and dragged him out of your apartment, throwing him to the ground before pointing a gloved finger.

"You understand?" he asked again, snickering when the guy almost immediately scrambled away without even responding.

Bucky waited until the man was out of sight before quickly turning to you. You merely stood inside your apartment, body trembling as you hugged yourself.

"You okay?" Bucky asked gently, brows furrowing in worry as he slowly walked towards you.

He bent down to catch your gaze, "Can I...?" he asked, asking for your permission as he attempted to hold your shoulders.

You meekly nodded and heaved out a shaky sigh, composing yourself. Bucky held you carefully, rubbing your arms to soothe you after everything that has happened. You let him touch you like that because it was the first time in a long time that you received such gentleness. It almost moved you into tears, how Bucky held you with so much care.

"Come on, let's get you patched up." Bucky said and led you out of your apartment, not wanting you to stay there after being beaten up by your asshole of a boyfriend.

Bucky kept a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his almost empty apartment. He almost felt embarrassed for having nothing but a couch, a chair and a television. You didn't seemed to mind though and immediately sat down upon reaching the couch.

Bucky fetched you a glass of water and sat down next to you, watching you drink it all in one go. Your hands weren't shaking that much anymore and the tension in your shoulders seemed to have subsided. You turned to Bucky and smiled at him for the first time.

"Thank you." you said. "And I owe you an apology. I know I was—“

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I understand." Bucky explained with a smile before it faltered, "I'm sorry for what you witnessed back there, I didn't mean to be violent like that but—“

It was your turn to cut him off, "Please don't be sorry. He deserved that." you bitterly chuckled.

Bucky found out that the guy was an ex-boyfriend and that he had been abusing you all throughout your relationship. You broke up with him a month ago that's why you moved into Bucky's apartment building. Apparently, you filed for a restraining order against him but the guy was obviously crazy to go against it, stalking you back to your apartment, hence the commotion.

"And the reason why I've been blasting music is because it keeps me from remembering the abuse he caused me. I can't think about anything else but that at night, when everything is quiet." you explained.

Bucky's heart ached because he understood, he truly understood your sentiments. His therapist taught him that peace isn't always a good thing. Sometimes, it is peace that causes chaos in the mind. Silence could be a dangerous thing, that's what you and Bucky have been experiencing.

"Would it help you if you talked to someone instead?" Bucky asked. "Because I'd love to have someone to talk to on nights I can't sleep." he said.

You offered a smile, "I'd keep you up every night then."

Bucky returned your smile, "Then it's a perfect set-up." he said, telling you that he too had trouble sleeping almost every night.

Bucky realized that he might have had a rough start with you, but he was glad for that. If it wasn't for your loud music blasting through his walls that one night, he wouldn't have found the perfect white noise to help him find solace at night— you.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar  @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @tcc-gizmachine @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @​thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb

Sign up on my tag list here - https://forms.gle/b5haFXewSKqnXxxh7

[violet-knox]

1 I would love to request a story for you if it´s still fine to do it, my request is a smut story with a quiet virgin female reader who is popular with opposite gender mostly because of her attractive physical appareance and for that when she confess that she have a romantic interested in him. He thinks is a lie or a joke to hurt him somehow but when she insist that her feelings are honest and she is willing to do anything.

Beauty’s Curse

Pairing: Young!Snape x Half-Veela!Reader

Summary: As Valentine’s day quickly approaches, you find yourself surrounded by more and more people asking to be yours, but you have your eye on someone else.

Warnings: (SPOILERS) Spiked drink, manipulation

Word Count: 6679

A/N: To be honest, I was a bit hesitant with this request because I knew it would be a rather big challenge. I didn’t want to write anything superficial or cliche, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to break the stereotype of “that pretty mean girl” and show that no one should be judged on their looks, even those who are considered attractive. 

I took inspiration from a situation I found myself in more or less recently, so please do read the warnings before reading this even though they are crossed out unless you really don’t want spoilers. 

Nearly six years had passed and the comments from your peers had never once eased. Valentine’s day had become your least favourite holiday from the never-ending line of people asking you to be their Valentine, each year worse than the last as your popularity increased. You knew it wasn’t their fault, not entirely. You were half Veela after all, something you never dare tell a soul. Rumours went around in your fourth year when you hit puberty, an invisible glow seeming to surround you as you walked down the hall, heads turning as they ogled you in amazement. ‘It was a gift’ your mother would always tell you, but you could never see it that way, especially after you’d agreed to go out with that boy a few years above you last year, finding out his charm only extended so far until his true colours showed. Since then, you’d done everything you could to contain your influence over those who yearned for you, knowing you’d never know true love if the man you ended up with only did so from his inability to resist you. 

You wanted to know what love really felt like, real love not the admiration the Slytherin boys chatting you up now were showing. It irked you how they’d suddenly surrounded you like this, three of them, all taller than you, all of whom were doing their best to impress you. One spoke of his father’s status at the Ministry of Magic, offering to take you anywhere you liked on Valentine’s day. Another tried to persuade you with the offer of visiting his mother’s shop in Westminster; the most luxurious dress shop in all of London he claimed, anything you wanted his mother could have you fitted for. The last boy had the nerve to try and hand over a necklace with the most amount of diamonds you’d ever seen, saying he’d offer you anything you liked if you agreed to be his Valentine. You had to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes, the necklace barely managing to snap your attention back to them as your eyes instead wandered to the end of the hall where you saw another Slytherin sitting on the ledge of a window with his nose in a book. 

You could still remember back when that was you sitting alone somewhere in the castle in your first year, everyone passing you by like you didn’t exist, your own nose shoved in the tenth book you’d been reading that week. Of course, that part never changed, you were a proud bookworm, one who’d much rather spend the evening diving into the pages of a good book than surrounded by people gawking at you. The only difference now was it was much harder to find a place where you’d be uninterrupted, but you always found a way, a small corner in this giant castle to call your own and escape the real world if not for a short moment. 

“Sorry, but I can’t be any of your Valentines.” You spewed a quick apology to the Slytherin’s and pushed passed them, only to watch the boy you’d been intrigued by slam his book shut and dramatically swift away down the stairs. 

He’d seen enough, the necklace turning his stomach into knots as he thought about the stupid bet they made before walking over to you, how they each thought they could buy you over with some luxury he could never afford to have. They didn’t even acknowledge his presence as they spoke, didn’t even bother to notice he’d hung back, that he stood by to watch them get rejected by the person who’d been known to reject everyone since first year. You seemed so kind and of course, it probably helped that you were a Hufflepuff, helped your ruse of being everyone’s friend, but he saw through you. He was the only one that did just as he was the only one to see through Potter. Everyone who was popular with the entire school had a dark side, he knew it, even if he hadn’t seen yours. 

“Severus!” He turned around in surprise as he heard his name called out, unable to recognize the voice. His expression immediately turned sour when he realized it was you who’d run after him, calling his name to get his attention. He turned around and began walking away, one hand holding his books tightly as the other formed a tight fist. “Severus, wait!”

You were almost surprised to see someone so bluntly ignore you, shun you like you were nothing and you knew it was an act of dislike towards you, the way he looked at you making it very clear he did not want to speak with you. Yet you couldn’t help but yearn over him all the more. The only person in the entire school that seemed to see you as just another student, the only person who didn’t look at you like you’d blessed the very ground you walked on and he wouldn’t even give you a moment to speak.

“Severus,” you tried again, finally catching up to him as you placed your hand over his shoulder, Severus nearly twisting your wrist as he spun around, acting like your hand had burned the spot where you’d touched him. “I was just wondering, if you’d perhaps like to go out sometime?”

“What?” Severus rose his brow, wondering if he’d heard you correctly. It almost sounded as if you were asking him out, you, the person everyone in his life compared to perfection, the beauty of an angel, kindness comparable to no one else’s. You who’d chatted with the entire school, made friends with everyone, enemies with no one, would choose him?

“It-it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. But I just thought, well I thought it would be nice to have a chat with you some time,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your face as you tried to ease the tension. Severus' expression only darkened with annoyance as his suspicion of you grew. 

“Did Avery put you up to this? Nott? Or Potter?” he blurted out. He couldn’t believe you thought he’d fall for such an obvious ruse. That he’d be desperate enough to accept your deceptive invitation, and when he found out who it was that plotted this interaction, he was going to make sure they never tried something like this again.

“N-no! Why would you say that?” You looked at him with shock, your heart sinking as you felt yourself nearly knock yourself over as you hit that defensive wall he had built around himself. You knew he wasn’t exactly liked by the other students, that he had a much tougher time than he deserved, but you’d never imagined him reacting like this when you finally built up the courage to ask him out. 

“I’m not falling for this,” Severus shook his head as he dismissed your advancements. He turned around and resumed walking down the stairs, leaving you to your own failure though he wasn’t surprised to see you running after him.

“Severus wait!”

“Tell whoever sent you to piss off!” He brushed you off without stopping. Reaching the ground floor, he continued to walk towards the Entrance Hall without so much as glancing your way.

“Severus no one sent me, I swear,” you tried to make him see reason, to show him you were being genuine, but as he spun back around, his hair turning dramatically with him as his strands quickly settled back into place, framing the annoyed look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t willing to let his guard down for even a moment and consider your intentions to be pure. 

“Really? Then why?” His words came out more as demands rather than a question, but you wouldn’t let it scare you away. You didn’t want to give up the one chance you had at a genuine relationship with someone who saw you as more than just a pretty face. 

“Why what?”

“Why in Merlin’s name would you ask me out when you already have the entire school ready to put their heads on the chopping block just for a moment with you?” His tone made you wonder if he was asking the question out of curiosity for your answer or if he’d already made up his mind, that no matter what you said he wouldn’t believe you anyways. You had half a mind to walk away, telling yourself you deserved better, but this was what you wanted wasn’t it? Not to be run after, try to be bought over in some way? You wanted someone to go out with you and love you for who you were, to resist the natural attraction of your Veela DNA.

“Because you’re brilliant and love to read. Because you aren’t like everyone else. Because you make me feel normal.” You poured your heart out to Severus only to have him scoff in your face, rolling his eyes, clearly finding your words less than truthful. You’d never admit it of course, but you did, in a way, lie. You’d admired him for so long now. All you saw was his good sides, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit such a thing. “Please, Severus, give me a chance.”

Severus stared at you a moment, surprising himself as he actually debated your plea. He wanted nothing more than to believe you, to believe someone would be interested in him in the way you claimed. But it was you. How could he believe the most wanted person in the entire school would choose the most hated? He wanted to get the truth out of you, to embarrass you when you admitted to your real intentions and perhaps that’s exactly what he should do. Perhaps he could get you to blurt out the name of the imbecile that would soon regret trying to mess with him like this.

“Fine. There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend. I suppose I can spare a few hours with you.” He agreed to your invitation as he made plans of his own, immediately setting off to the dungeons when you smiled and nodded. You looked almost relieved that he’d finally accepted, almost like you had some other agenda and of course, he’d find out one way or the other. He was tired of the harassment, the humiliation from everyone in this school, tainting it with their insolence and stupidity. This was his home, the one place in the entire world where he could belong, and he wouldn’t let anyone push him around any longer. 

This was the last straw. He was going to make an example out of you and whoever it was pulling your strings. He’d make the entire school regret making him out as a punishing bag, a joke for everyone to laugh at. What more could he lose? His best friend had already abandoned him, his Slytherin peers eager to do the same, only ever defending him out of obligation for their own house. He had no one, nothing to care for except his own reputation. He’d come to Hogwarts wanting to make something of himself, to build himself a future better suited for a Prince than a Snape and that’s what he was going to do one way or the other. 

He made his way to his dorm first, retrieving the stash of potion ingredients he hid under his bed and cross referenced what he needed from the notes he’d taken in the back of his Advanced Potion Making textbook. He had nearly everything he needed, but he knew he could get the rest from the potion’s cupboard before Potion’s class today. It would take some time to brew and he’d probably have to stay up tonight, but he knew he could finish it just in time for his ‘date’ with you. 

 You’d spent all week excited for the weekend. Every day you woke up with a smile until finally the day of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. You were the first to wake, preparing for the day as your nerves grew, your friends questioning why you seemed so happy all of a sudden, but you brushed them all off. You didn’t want anything to ruin this day, knowing they’d laugh if you told them you were going out with Severus. You just wanted to enjoy your date, to be left alone and show Severus there was someone in this school who would love nothing more than to spend every second of the day with him. 

Naturally you’d show up early and of course you were prepared. You sat at a nearby bench with your nose in a book as you usually were when you were alone and despite the crowd that grew with every second that past, Severus had no trouble finding you, rather surprised you weren’t surrounded by people all laughing, waiting to see what would come of your plan to humiliate him today. You were reading Magical Theory, one of the most boring books he’d found in all of Hogwarts’ library, yet there you were, enticed by every word, flipping the pages like you couldn’t go another second without reading. 

“H-hello,” he said, startling you as you shot your attention up from your book to him. He felt his heart racing, his nerves escalating like this was a real date. But it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. He was here for one reason and one reason only; the truth. He shouldn’t be feeling guilty for something he had yet to do, but he did. A sliver of him didn’t want to hurt you, instead hoping that this was real, that you were here because you were genuinely interested in him, but he knew better. How could someone as popular, as liked and as beautiful as you be interested in him?

“Severus, I’m glad you showed.” You gave him the widest smile he’d ever seen anyone give him as you closed your book and stood up.

“I said I would didn’t I?” Severus rose a brow at you, taken back by the enthusiasm in your tone. 

“Yes, but you seemed reluctant the other day.” Truth be told, you half expected to spend the day alone in absolute despair trying to distract yourself in that book as you pretended like you weren’t hurt from being stood up. But he came and he seemed much less defensive than before. 

“Shall we?” He gestured to the group of students making their way down to Hogsmeade. You nodded your head and happily joined him as you walked side by side amongst the crowd. Severus was already suspicious of you and your intentions knowing if he was alone, he would have been called ‘Snivellus’ at least once by now. He felt shielded around you, like no one could touch him and for a moment, he was relieved to feel normal for once. 

“I loved your presentation in Defense last week,” you commented, hoping some light conversation would help ease the mood before you found a place to settle for the day. Severus glared at you in surprise, wondering if you were trying to butter him up or if you had actually paid attention during class unlike the rest of his useless classmates.

“Really? What did you like about it?” Severus questioned your honesty, wondering if he could catch you in a lie before your ‘date’ even started.

“I love how in-depth your research was on cursed objects and your theory of their origin was intriguing,” you said with a smile, holding back your enthusiasm in fear of scaring him away. But you couldn’t help it, you admired Severus and how brilliant he was. You felt the heat rise to your face as you thought about the first time you saw him with his nose in a book, the first time you’d ever found yourself pulled away from your own book. “I noticed you like to hang around the Defense section of the library, is it your favourite subject?”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Your question had the opposite effect that you wanted as you saw his wall rebuild itself around him thicker than before. But you’d never give up knocking and asking him to let you in, to give you a chance and show him he could trust you. 

“N-no, I like to hide in the library at times and I just noticed you were a regular as well,” you said, but you could tell Severus wasn’t convinced. He could almost see the crack in your claims, trying to cover them with some made up weak lie. 

“Why have I never seen you in the library?” The interrogation continued, Severus seeing his victory in his line of sight. He had you cornered and was ready to end the day now when you admitted your true intentions. A smirk began to grow on his face as he thought of the victory at the end of his fingertips. He could almost see the horrific look on the face of whoever is to blame for this day. 

“Pince lets me sit on the second floor overlooking the library, it’s only meant for staff, but she noticed my inability to have a moment to myself and rescued me one day from another mob of people looking to make conversation with me.” 

“That’s kind of her,” he said, gritting his teeth as you slipped away from him, freeing yourself from his near grasp. His lips stretched into a frown as his revenge faded away. The longer he spoke with you the more his hope that this was real grew. You surprised him with your lack of self-absorbent qualities and your interest in what the Hogwarts library had to offer. He never imagined having so much in common with someone with your popularity, always assuming you’d be a lot more like Potter than himself. 

He looked over at you as you nodded, your smile enriching the twinkle in your eye as you gleamed at him with joy. You were so happy to speak with him, to have a casual and light conversation, to share things with him you’d never shared with anyone before. It felt good to open up a bit, to show that other side of you that stayed hidden away when you spoke to your friends or classmates. It was almost freeing, and you only hoped with time, Severus could feel the same with you.

“So, where should we go?” You asked, unsure of what his favourite places at Hogsmeade was. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy a trip to Honeydukes and you knew he didn’t have enough money for the bookstore. 

“We could grab a table at The Three Broomsticks?” Severus suggested as he gestured towards the pub. You nodded your head and made your way over, opening the door and began to make your way to the first empty table you saw. You smiled when Severus pulled on your arm and pointed to the booth in the back instead. He was always such a loner, though you couldn’t help but wonder if he preferred the seclusion now because he didn’t want to be seen with you. You wouldn’t blame him for being skeptical and you were thankful he was giving you a chance, but trust was so important in a relationship and you didn’t want to start it off with an inability to trust one another. 

“Go ahead, I’ll grab us some drinks.” You nodded and made your way to the booth, making yourself comfortable as Severus walked over to the bar. As you slide to the middle of the booth, you began to appreciate Severus' choice in seating, realizing how well hidden you were from everyone, not wanting your day interrupted by someone who thought Severus had kidnapped you and forced you into a date because they thought someone like you shouldn’t be out with someone like him. 

Severus didn’t take long to bring you your drinks, setting them down before shuffling into the booth beside you, grabbing his drink and taking a few gulps. His nerves had finally settled in and he almost wished he’d ordered something stronger for himself. The moment of truth had nearly come and at any moment now he’d get what he came here for, but he was afraid. He feared what the truth may bring him, that if by some small chance you were being honest before, he was about to ruin a love that could have been.

“Thank you,” you said as you reached for your own drink and took a sip. “Not just for the drink, but for giving me a chance as well.”

Severus gulped down the guilt that grew in his chest. There was no going back now. He had to find out the truth, even if you seemed genuine with your feelings towards him. “I was curious to know why you’d want to go out with me.”

He dipped his toes in the water as you both continued to enjoy your drinks and as he hoped, you began to open up to him, though perhaps not in the way he would have thought. “I’ve admired you for quite some time and have been trying to build up the courage to talk to you for a while.”

You put your drink down in shock by your sudden outburst of words. You hadn’t meant to say all that, even if it was on the tip of your tongue. Furrowing your brows, you pressed your lips together, unsure of how you’d lost control so suddenly. You felt like someone was pulling your strings, like they had slapped you on the back so hard, the words just flew out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at you, doubting his own abilities and wondered how this could possibly be. He was so sure this was a trick, that you were being deceitful, put up by someone else to embarrass him, but your truth was far from what he was expecting. You were real, you were interested in him, and he’d made a terrible mistake. “S-so no one put you up to asking me out?”

“No of course not. You’re the only person I’ve ever met I felt like I could truly fall in lo-” You clapped your hands over your mouth before you could say anymore. Your eyes widened as you bit down on your tongue, muffling the words you could not believe were about to be heard by him. You looked at him in fear, feeling completely helpless. Your freewill had been stripped away from you and you found yourself unable to control what came out of your mouth. “W-what’s going on?!”

“I-I’m so sorry (Y/N). This was not how I imagined things would go,” he said, his sympathetic tone making it harder for you to stay calm as your heart pounded angrily against your chest. Every fiber in your body told you something was wrong, that you should run, but you couldn’t, you didn’t want to. You’d waited so long to be here, to be in this moment alone with Severus, you didn’t want it ruined.

“What are you talking about?” You let yourself speak just enough to ask for clarification, to give Severus the chance to explain himself, to give you the explanation you needed to stay here with him. 

“I-I slipped Veritaserum into your drink. I thought I could get you to admit this was a trick. I didn’t expect this. I’m so sorry.” You looked at him with absolute horror, your heart breaking into a million pieces as his betrayal sunk in. He’d manipulated you, used you like a puppet when you’d done nothing but open yourself up to him. You’d trusted him like you’d done with no one before, and he tossed that away like it meant nothing. Your eyes swelled with tears, unable to look at him any longer. Your legs immediately swept you from your seat as you glued your mouth shut, trying to escape the prison Severus had trapped you in

“(Y/N) wait!” Severus cried after you in desperation, unable to believe how he’d messed up something he could only dream of having. You were an angel that anyone would have felt lucky to be with and he was the demon you’d chose instead. The demon who’d scared you away from love, from happiness, from a good and honest relationship. He tried to grab your wrist, but his hand failed to hold onto you as your skin, your oh so perfect skin grazed his fingertips. You ran out the door with tears dripping down your face and a hand over your mouth, leaving him deserted. His eyes followed you until you were no longer within his line of sight, running to get as far away from the monster who’d broken your trust, your faith in him. 

Slumping back in his seat, he stared blankly at his hands, the hands that had spent all week brewing a potion that was meant to bring him peace, a sense of power and control over his own life, yet it brought him nothing but an empty heart and crushed aspirations. Your words rang in his ears, the kind tone you took with him, the loving look you gave him all sinking in much differently now that he knew for certain they were real. He looked up at the drink that had ruined his second chance, the chance at a happy life, a life where he no longer had to be alone and swung his arm at it in anger.

The pub fell silent as glass shattered, the drink spilling all over the floor as Severus pushed himself up and began storming out the door, ignoring the calls of the angry bartender who stood over the mess he’d made. Severus ran in the same direction he’d seen you head, but found no sight of you. He had no idea what he’d say or why he so suddenly ran after you without thinking. He just knew he had to find you. He couldn’t give up on the miracle he’d been asking for all his life, someone who truly cared for him, who liked him for who he was and could look past his flaws.  

He looked around and found himself in a lost haze, unsure of what to do next. You were gone, vanished like a figment of his imagination and he was left here to wonder how he’d managed to get so lucky to have the one person the entire school was after fall for him. He looked back at the road back to Hogwarts before he found his legs suddenly jolting him forward as if his body knew exactly where to go. He couldn’t understand what was happening, how he felt like he had no control over himself. His mind was cycling as it tried to comprehend what was happening, how he could be driven on nothing but emotions, his feelings for you pushing him to run as fast as he could back to the castle and up those flights of stairs. 

By the time he got to his destination, his hair was sticking to the sides of his face, his lungs gasping for air as he felt his entire body heat up. His heart pounded angrily against his chest, shouting at him to keep going, that he wasn’t done until he’d found you, but he’d never run so much in his life, never felt so unable to breath, even after the massive panic attrack he had the night after the Whomping Willow incident. 

Looking around the library, he found his way to the door he knew only staff were allowed to open. His hand bolted for the doorknob, tugging on it to find it locked. Pulling out his wand, he tried to unlock it with no luck. His fists pounded on the door in frustration, he needed to get in there, he knew you were in there, he could feel it. You’d trusted him enough to tell him about this place and as much as he was aware you didn’t want to see him, he needed to see you. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please open the door! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t think- I didn’t know!”

Severus hung his head low as he pressed himself to the door. This was as close to you as he knew he’d ever get again. He’d ruined any chance of a relationship with you and you were right to hide away from him. He was destructive, ruining anything he touched, anyone who spoke with him or dare come near him and perhaps that was why Potter felt the need to hex and curse him every time they saw one another. He couldn’t let it go on, he had to try and mend things, if not to at least make up for what he’d done.

“Please, at least let me undo what I’ve done. I can cure you and if you don’t want to hear what I have to say then I’ll leave. But please let me fix this.” Severus shut his eyes, tears threatening to fall as his forehead met the door. He stood there in silence, wondering if he’d hurt you so bad you’d abandoned the one place you felt safe in this school, if he’d done to you what Potter had to him. He’d become what he hated and was about ready to retreat to his dorm when he heard the doorknob turning, the door slowly opening as he took a step back, his eyes wide as he wiped away the tears that rolled down his cheeks. 

Your eyes met his and you felt your disappointment melt into anger. Your jaw hardened as you locked your teeth together, doing everything you could to keep from speaking another word to Severus. You watched him snap out of your gaze and begin to fumble with his robes, pulling out a small stone and presenting it to you. You stared down at it confused, wondering what kind of apology this was meant to be. 

“It’s a bezoar. I know it’s not the most comfortable solution, but it’s all I have,” Severus offered it to you, hoping you’d take it, that he could try and regain your trust once again. He held out hope as he watched your posture relax the slightest bit, your hand hesitantly reaching for the stone. He wouldn’t dare speak a word or move a muscle until you indicated what it was you wished of him next. From this moment forward, he would do nothing you didn’t ask for, say nothing you didn’t demand. 

Tossing the stone into your mouth, you swallowed hard and groaned at the feeling of its rough texture travelling down your throat. You heaved for air, but for the first time since you ran out of The Three Broomsticks, you found yourself able to relax your jaw, your fear of spilling your guts disappearing. Straightening your back, you looked at Severus who seemed unable to move or breath, waiting for your command to do so as his wide eyes stared desperately into yours. You’d never felt so conflicted, your feelings for him clouding your instinct to slap him for what he’d done to you. You never felt so humiliated, so used in your life. Severus had gone from the person who’d treated you like a normal human being to the one person in your life who’d hurt you worse than you ever thought you could be hurt. But you still couldn’t find it in you to shove him away and lock him out of your life. So instead, you closed the door behind you and stood your ground with your arms crossed, waiting for Severus to explain himself. 

“I-I’m so sorry.” He nearly choked on his words as they came out when he saw the look on your face, the frown you wore. No word would ever be large enough to truly depict how he felt right now and as much as he wanted to say more, all he could do was apologize.

“You already said that,” you mumbled in a whisper, speaking against your own trauma from the truth serum that Severus had given you. He looked so sincere, so desperate for your forgiveness. You’d never seen him like this before, clawing at someone else for something only they could give. He’d always been such a strong person even if others would disagree. He wasn’t presumptuous as he was proud of himself and his achievements, but the person who stood before you now had no pride left to show. He had nothing but regret and torment in his eyes.

“And I can never say it enough. I should never have put that potion in your drink and I wish I could take it back. I didn’t think you were being genuine. I was so sure you were lying to me.” He spoke honestly, hoping you’d have faith he was being truthful with every word he spoke, that you could at least put the trust in him he failed to put in you. 

“Why?” You couldn’t let go of the sheer stupidity of what he’d done. His reasoning didn’t make the slightest bit of sense to you, and if you could understand why he did it, maybe you could begin to forgive him.

“Why? Because you’re you and I’m me and why would I ever believe you of all people would be interested in me?” Severus went on as if the question was an absurd one to ask, the answer so obvious, even a house elf could see it. He wondered how you couldn’t see his hesitation, why you’d ever think he’d simply accept the fact you were interested in him.

“Because I said that I did!” you said bluntly, rather offended he questioned your intentions at all. Never had anyone second guessed you to this extreme before and you didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

“I know, I just-”

“Didn’t trust my word?” You looked completely heart broken, more so then when you realized he’d slipped truth serum into your drink. He could see trust was something you cherished between those you let close to you and he’d completely ruined his chance at gaining it from you.

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not after the way the school decided to brand me all those years ago.” Severus had no hope of convincing you what he did was justifiable because even he knew it wasn’t. All he could hope for was for you to understand his hesitation, to understand why he had to do something when you approached him to see if you were genuine in your intentions.

“I’ve never treated you that way,” you retorted.

“I know. I’m sorry and I’ll understand if you’ll never want to speak with me again.” He put the ball in your court, completely at your mercy. Whatever it was you decided to do, he would respect it, but every inch of him begged you to give him another chance, to let him have a proper opportunity to have someone in his life that would care for him, to have a happy ending. But as Severus stared into your blank eyes, he could tell he hadn’t swayed you in any way. It was his fault and as he had nothing more to say, all he could do was turn around to walk away from everything that could have been.

“That’s it?” Severus stopped as you called after him, turning around in surprise as he stared at you blankly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re just going to walk away? You’re not going to try and fight? For-for this?” You gestured between yourselves with a sliver of hope in your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t have expected much from him, but a part of you hoped he’d be a little more resilient to giving up on you, especially after all that time you’d spent admiring him from afar. 

“I-I didn’t think there was anything to fight for,” he said truthfully, looking at you with wide eyes as he walked back to you. He stared at you intently, trying to read you, to figure you out with all these mysteries surrounding you. How could someone so beautiful fall for him, want to be with him enough you’d be willing to give him a chance at redemption when his own best friend wouldn’t give him such a thing?

You took a step forward, wanting so badly to have all those talks with him you’d dreamed of having, to enjoy spending time with him if not to simply read together and find comfort in each other's company. You wanted to go back and give him a chance to redo the evening, to have it end much differently than yours and if it were anyone else, you would never have given him the chance to explain himself. But it wasn’t someone else, it was him. It was the one person in this whole world who you thought could break your curse, who seemed immune to it.

“Severus, why don’t you treat me like everyone else in this school?”

Severus stood in silence a moment as he thought back to how easily everyone worshipped the ground you walked on, how you always seemed to have a trail of people behind you, admiring you for no reason other than your looks. His thoughts wandered to Lily and how Potter seemed just as enchanted with her as the rest of the school did to you, how he’d only become intrigued with Lily after finding out she was a kind witch who lived in Cokeworth.

“I just-I suppose I just never thought of you in that way because I didn’t know you, and I never thought you’d be interested in knowing me.” Severus tried to be as honest as he could, watching you with hope. He held onto the fact you hadn’t run away, that you’d given him the chance to speak, to hear him and understand him. You were so kind, nothing like he would have ever imagined and he knew if he was ever so lucky as to get a second chance with you, he would never take it for granted again.

“Well, I am,” you said with a smile. You’d always been rather talented at reading people after the absurdity you’d seen from others, and Severus had truly wanted to make amends. You prayed your faith in him wasn’t misplaced, that he meant every word he said and that he saw what you saw. “If you are.”

“I am.” The words flew out of his mouth faster than he could process. He jumped at the chance you offered, beyond excited for the happy life he saw ahead of him. “Would you perhaps like to try again?” 

You nodded your head eagerly, excited for your do-over date. You almost wanted to forget what had happened today, to approach things with him from a fresh perspective. “Valentine’s day is coming up. Would you care to share a cup of tea with me at Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop?”

“Really?” Severus couldn’t believe how kind hearted you were, how willing you were to see the good in others and how tremendously lucky he was to have found you, or more accurately, have you find him. 

“So long as I’m buying this time,” you nodded with a laugh, eliciting a smile from Severus as you began making your way out of the library. You smiled as you finally got to see the real him, the person you grew infatuated with, the boy who you saw hope for love with. For the first time in your life, you felt content, excited for the spark you felt growing inside your heart. You could experience love for the first time in your life, real, pure love and you couldn’t wait to see what more it had in store for you.

[thewritetofreespeech]

roland fortis w/ an old vampire s/o? like she reluctently decided to take him to altus paris for a masquerade ball, and for the first time he sees a giant scar on her shoulder/back, and he's both concerned and curious, but then feels guilty once she tells him it was from the war with the chasseurs. could reader also be a little self-conscious about it?

“Wooow! Look at it all! Everything is so shiny!!”

You grin as you watch Roland look around like a kid in a candy store. You have to agree, Paris was dazzling, but Altus Paris was truly magnificent.

“May I take your coat Monsieur?” Roland seemed to come back to himself abruptly. Remembering where he was, and that he was a guest to this world & already out of place, he suddenly became very shy. He took off his coat and handed it to the man. Fidgeting with his magical mask that was keeping him truly cloaked in a nervous fashion to make sure it was still on.

“And your cloak madam?”

You remove your cloak with much less flourish or nerve, and hand it to the attendant easily. “What’s the matter?” You ask when you turn back to Roland.

“Sh-Should…Should you be showing so much skin??” He whispered. As if someone would hear and realize you were practically naked.

You were, in fact, not practically naked but instead just having your shoulders bare. Still scandalous, for this day & age, but no where near the scandal Roland was adorably, bashfully making it out to be. It was fun to tease the clergy.

“Come on. Let’s get a drink. You do drink, yes? I’ve never asked since we haven’t had the opportunity.”

“I…do.” Roland replied. Face still beet red as you linked arms and headed for the ballroom. “But I probably shouldn’t. Olivier says I get rowdy when I drink. I can never remember. He also says that new born babies have a higher tolerance.”

You giggle again and lead him towards the champagne. “Well then, why don’t we get me a drink and you a ginger ale? It’s all the rage amongst the sobers and mixed spirit drinkers.”

“Another vampire invention?”

“Actually, I think an Irishman made it.”

Arriving at the champagne tower, you release Roland’s arm and reach for one of the glasses near the middle. “What’s that?” You look at Roland with surprise, as his curious expression continued to stare at your shoulder. “You have a scar on your shoulder.”

Panic suddenly washed through you as you remembered the scar in question. You never ‘forgot’ about it, but there were times it wasn’t in the forefront of you mind. And you suddenly remembered why you didn’t like to show skin as well. “It’s nothing. Let’s just drop it.”

“No. Tell me what happened.” Roland insisted, as usual. Following you as you tried to literally leave the conversation. You should have known it wouldn’t work. He was nothing if not persistent. “It looks like an old injury, but a bad one. Were you hurt by someone?”

“Roland, please. Just drop it.”

“Did you fall out of a tree? I feel out of a tree when I was 6 and hit my head. There was blood everywhere.”

“I didn’t fall out of a tree. So please just drop it.”

“Were you attacked? Of course you weren’t attacked. That’s silly. Who would attack someone like you.”

“A chasseur did.”

Roland’s string of uninterrupted questions, more his own mental ramblings than anything, suddenly came to a halt as he looked at you in surprise.

“A chasseur did. During the war….or..whatever they decided was a war, I was attacked. Luckily it was only one and I managed to get away, but not without them shooting me in the back.”

“Coward.” You hear Roland quietly curse.

“Look…it was a long time ago, and I don’t like to talk or think about it. Can we just….enjoy the party?” You down your champagne in one gulp and go back for another.

“Why did you want to be with me then?” It was a startling question, and one you really didn’t know the answer to you. “If someone like me hurt you so badly, why would you give someone like me a chance?”

“Because I like you.” It was as simple as that. His earnestness. His bright light of a personality. Even, though it was perhaps only recent, his ability to change. “I perhaps don’t like your profession, but that is not a person make. Humans have very short lives. They must make decisions for their safety based on limited information and go from there. Usually fear. Which turns to prejudice. Vampire have very long lives, so we can make more informed decisions. Not to say that someone of aren’t still prejudice assholes but….living forever in fear is a very long time to live.” You weren’t sure if Roland understood, but he seemed to accept your answer.

You came back over to him and linked arms. “Would you still like that ginger ale?”

He perked up a little at that, and immediately perked up the minute he tasted bubbles. No, none of them were perfect. Vampire nor humans. But Roland was trying to change and see the world in more greys than before. And, hopefully, seeing the bright lights of Altus Paris for a night would bring even more color into his world.

[mypoisonedvine]

for the sleepover yandere prompts - 💫 + ddlg + sonophilia

💫- "Stay still! You don't want to make me angry"

I'm doing this one with jefferson because he has been living in my head rent free lately; noncon under the cut, also watch out for forced age regression, some degradation, a slap, and drugging (via needle)

He watched as you started to slowly wake up, his eyes trailing over your innocent face as you started to realize what was happening.

He'd already taken the liberty to dress you up, and the frilly pink gown looked so good on you he could hardly stand it. God, how he wanted to just rip you apart... but not yet.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he cooed as you started to wiggle against the restraints that kept your wrists bound above your head. It wasn't exactly morning yet, it was still a few hours until sunrise, but his point was made anyway.

Just as you started to open your mouth to scream, he clamped his hand down over it.

"Shh, no need to get fussy," he whispered, "the fun is only just starting."

He gave you a pacifier gag to make sure you'd stay quiet, and finally his hands were free to touch you as he pleased. At first he just took his time, feeling the warmth of your skin through the pretty dress he'd put you in, but when he suddenly groped your tits you whined and tried to turn your body away.

"What's got you all squirmy, huh?" he asked playfully. "You gotta stay still, babydoll..."

But then he tried to tweak your hardening nipples through the lace and you did it again, making him get more stern.

"Stay still, damn it! You don't want me to get angry," he warned.

He sighed as he looked down at your face, twisted in fear-- you were clearly scared and he regretted getting a little too aggressive.

"I'm sorry for cursing at you, it's just important that you follow the rules, okay? I don't want to punish you, but I will if I have to," he explained. You nodded slightly and he smiled. "I knew you could be a good girl."

Finally you let him play with your tits uninterrupted, and each time you shivered when he pinched your nipples, his cock throbbed against his trousers like it was trying to break out.

After a few more minutes of that, he let his hands move lower as they started to push up your skirt and tickle your thighs. There was already a wet patch on the panties he'd given you, and he drank in the sight with a hungry grin.

"Oh, you really want it, don't you babydoll?" he purred. But when he went to rub your swollen button through the fabric, you twisted your hips away again; he instantly spanked your thigh as you yelped around the gag. "I said, say still!" he warned again, but you didn't listen, thrashing and crying anyways

He sighed with disappointment, pulling back to reach into his bag. "Well, since you wanna be a brat, I think we're gonna have to give you a little extra help being a good girl tonight."

You instantly started to tug at the ropes harder when you saw the syringe, watery eyes going wide, and he laughed. "Don't act so surprised, you should know this is what happens to bad little girls-- now hold still or this is gonna hurt a lot worse."

He used one hand to hold your jaw and keep your neck exposed so he could prick you, the solution taking effect instantly as he felt your body go limp beneath him.

"There you go, just relax baby... now you really are like my babydoll, can't move at all, can't do anything except blink those pretty eyes at me."

But that wasn't totally true: you could still cry, warm tears streaking down your temples as he looked down at you proudly.

"This formula is extra special because it keeps you from moving but doesn't stop you from feeling anything," he explained as he placed a pink hello kitty bandaid on the needle wound. "I made it just for you, I can't have my baby all numb for our first time together..."

Finally, with your body not only pliant but soaking wet, he could pull your panties down and spread your legs, admiring the bounty before him. "Waited so long for this," he admitted with a groan. "Waited to find the perfect girl to make into my pretty little baby... waited for the right time to make you mine..."

He positioned his swollen head at your opening, spreading your slick over himself with a sigh. "And now you're finally my babydoll, forever."

He pushed into you and even though you couldn't cry out, he could see the pain in your eyes.

"Fuck, so fucking tight," he hissed. "No wonder it hurts, baby, don't worry, it's gonna feel so good in a minute..."

As much as it would've been the gentlemanly thing to do to slow down and give you time to adjust, he just couldn't help himself, already thrusting into you faster than he meant to. Your body rocked beneath him with every thrust, those precious tits bouncing perfectly-- especially when he tore your dress down to free them.

"Oh god, that's it, that's my pretty girl... fuck, taking Daddy so good, huh? Squeezing Daddy's cock nice and tight for me?"

He almost heard you make a little noise behind the paci, and he smiled, knowing the drug made it pretty hard to speak.

"Aw, are you trying to say something, babydoll?" He slapped you across the face instantly, growling through his teeth. "Shut the fuck up. Fucktoys don't talk."

He pinned you down to start thrusting faster and harder, already so close to his peak and needing nothing more than to fill you with his seed.

"M'gonna come," he slurred breathlessly, "this tight little cunt is gonna make me come, babydoll..."

It was only a few more erratic thrusts that sent him over the edge, your walls milking every drop from his sensitive, softening cock.

He sighed and slumped down on top of you, kissing the tears away from your face before he freed you from the gag (since you couldn't talk anyways) and kissed your slack, motionless lips.

"My beautiful babydoll..." he whispered against your ear. "I'm gonna play with you all the time, sweet little girl... Daddy's gonna fill all your holes."

[ageofevermore]

The Autocomplete Interview

Summary → your favorite thing about interviews is how cuddly tom gets afterwards, almost like he’s a life size teddy bear.

Warning(s) → literally nothing but fluff and tom getting teased by the reader and zendaya 

Word Count → 1.5k

add yourself to my taglist 

Tom has his arms wrapped around your waist, rocking your bodies while the makeup team touches up your eyes and hair. He’s in a conversation with Harry and Zendaya, occasionally humming as if he thinks you’ve said something, before he goes back to them. It’s heartwarming. 

Buzzfeed is your last interview of the afternoon, and then you’re free until nightfall when you’re expected at the Hilton across town for another round of press. It’s days like these that remind you of elementary school field trips, only instead of an ugly yellow school bus that was kept together by duct tape, you’re riding coach. 

When both you and Zendaya are cleared for camera, you bring Tom towards the chairs, shoving him back, and forcing him down on the one furthest left. A few laughs go around, watching your boyfriend get shoved around in his expensive slacks and neon yellow turtleneck. You’d teased him earlier about the denim jacket he wore, asking if he took it straight from your closet back home. He grinned as if you we’re the funniest thing he’d come across, placing wet kisses into your skin until you begged him to stop, laughing nonsensically and promising he looked ‘hella hot’. 

After a sound check, and a screen test to make sure none of you we’re washed out, cameras counted down from three. You squeezed Tom’s hand twice before you dropped it, eyes directly down the barrel of the camera. 

“Hey, it’s Zendaya here.” 

“Y/N” 

“Tom Holland.” 

Your boyfriend sounds entirely british as he pushes his fingertips together in his lap. He's tired, the long day wearing him thin. You can’t wait to strip your skin of makeup, let your dress fall in a pool around your ankles, and take a much deserved nap in his arms. As much as you love press, and being with your friends, you need your boyfriend's skin against yours. You need to decompress before you start all over again at sundown. 

“And we’re uh, about to do our,” Zendaya looks to you, grin on her face. She’s tired, you all are, but unlike you she’s miles away from anyone to cuddle with. Maybe you’ll ditch Tom, fall asleep with Zendaya instead. 

“Wired,”

“Autocomplete,” 

“Interview.” 

Zendaya’s handed the cardstock first, questions for Tom beneath strips of paper. You shudder, the same as Tom, when she scratches her fingers along the board and peels the paper away. You’re hardly as dramatic as your boyfriend, who coils into himself and raises his hands to his ears. You laugh, but your spine is still cold from the hideous noise. Your hand reaches out, and you tenderly pat him on the thigh. 

A joke about your wedding comes into mind, but you pocket it for later, not willing to risk your intimacy making it into the final cut of the interview. You may be open about your relationship, and the fact that yes, you are banging Tom, but you’re still reserved with most things in your life-- including the engagement ring that’s tucked away back at your London apartment. Maybe one day, after the wedding, you’ll be open to sharing the ring, but for now, it’s your perfect little secret. 

“Alright, first question. Does Tom Holland do his own stunts?” 

“I do actually, I do my own stunts, but there are some stunts that I can’t do,” Tom’s eyes shift to you when you mumble beneath your breath, entirely displeased with the many times he’s come home hurt after he insisted that he could do his own stunts. He had too much faith and pride in his limited gymnastics background, “and then I have my stunt double Greg and Luke, who are incredibly talented, and have made some of the action sequences in this film, I would say, some of the most incredible sequences ever. Um, yeah, so I do do my own stunts, but I can’t take full credit.” 

You smile softly, proud of all the work your boyfriend puts into not only his projects, but keeping himself in shape so the filming process isn’t so grueling. He’s missed out on a lot of sleep, but he takes his wins with his losses. He’s somebody you look up to. 

“Does Tom Holland play video games?” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. You look towards your partner expectantly, lips coiled into an unimpressed pout. He’s the worst. No matter the hour, if he has a console with him, he’s chatting to Harrison until you either unplug the system, or crawl into his lap and beg with him to come to bed-- usually it’s the latter, but Harrison’s heard quite a few squabbles take place in your flat. 

“You know, every now and then.” He shrugs, and your jaw drops. You raise your eyebrows, eyes locked with his. His cheeks flush, but nothing needs to be said. Your expression give away that his habit of video games is definitely more than a ‘once and a while’ occurrence. 

Zendaya laughs, shaking her head at the pair of you before she pulls another sticker off of the board, looking down at the next question, “Does Tom Holland have a spidey sense?” 

“If he did, he wouldn’t have answered the last question lying through his teeth.” You say before Tom has a chance to respond. Your boyfriend, ever the bashful boy, ducks his head down into his hands as he laughs, shoulders shaking. 

You bear a smile at Zendaya, subtly winking. You’ve seen the compilation videos of YouTube and Instagram. You know that the fans have caught onto your relationship with the former disney star. You’d be lying if you said friendship wasn’t built on the foundations of picking on Tom, but your boyfriend could handle the heat. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be in the kitchen. 

Somehow, you make it through the first round of questions for each of you. Zendaya’s cracked jokes, but your social timer is running low. Tom can tell. You’ve stopped laughing at the little things, only offering small smiles and giggles. His hand wants to hold yours, rub circles into your skin as a promise that it’ll be over soon, but he can’t. He won’t let the world in on such a private moment. You already share so much of yourselves. 

“How did Y/N become famous?” Zendaya read off a question, eyes lightning up as she nudged you with her elbow. 

“Uh, Disney Channel.” You responded, a cheeky twitch in your lips as you tilted your head towards Zendaya. You hadn’t actually had a history with the company, but for whatever reason a rumor had spread that you and Zendaya went up for the same role back in 2009. You hadn’t, but you poked fun at the obscure lie as often as you could. 

“Who is Y/N dating?” 

“Tom Holland. Somebody’s gotta do his wash, and I don’t think Harry wants the job again.” You taunt, your boyfriend scoffing as he crosses his arms over his chest and sends you a sweet pout. You grin, tapping your thigh with your finger twice, a silent saying of I Love You. 

“What is Y/N’s favorite color?” 

You laugh, reminded of a question Zendaya got earlier about what she’s been up to. Sometimes, people's intense interest in your lives was confusing. You didn’t think yourself to be entertaining, but the millions of follows and fans who dedicated hours to edits and draws said otherwise. “Purple.” 

“Who is Y/N’s favorite Holland?” 

The three of you burst out laughing, your forearms resting on your thighs as you came back to yourself. The questions towards you were random, but the ones directed towards you provoked the most laughs. “I-- Besides Tom? I think it’s quite obvious who my favorite is, if we’re including him. Sam. Sam’s my favorite.” 

You smile when the cameras cut, concluding your interviews for the afternoon. Tom pulls you back into his arms, whispering in your ear about how he can't wait to cuddle, curl up in your bed and sleep for a few uninterrupted hours before you’re sent back through the grueling process. You wouldn’t change your job for the world. Especially not when the constant conversation tires Tom out, and makes your already sweet boyfriend a life size teddy bear.

When you finally make it back to your hotel room, your eyes are barely open. You took your makeup off in the bus, and before Tom had even closed the hotel door you were kicking your high heels off and pleading with him to unzip your dress. He laughed, pulling his jacket off before he stepped up behind you. Letting it fall to the floor in a pool around your ankles, his arms wrap around you and tug you back into his chest. 

“I love you, you goof.” You mumble against his lips, turning your head to the side so you can kiss him just as sweetly as he holds you. His sweater is soft beneath your bear skin, but you shiver anyways with the new lack of clothing. 

“I love you more, Princess.”

☆ taglist (urls with a strike through won’t let my tag) →

@deionswannabegirl @killingbxys @mauvesdior @mischiefandi @dmonchld @waddlenut @tanakaslastbraincell @hollandsxheart @quacksonhehe @tothemoonandbackx3000 @stiles-o-dylan24 @tikapollak @tomthetease @spookybooisa @geminiparkers @teen--marvel @rogersparkerbarnes @sarcasticallywitty15 @anapocalypseinmymind

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: So, I’ve made some positive changes in my life. I am working away at original work, I’m drinking more water, I’m taking my dog on big walks and being more active, and I’m doing my best. So, I was struck with an old yearning to return to Birch. I’ll be updating here and there as I feel and won’t be pushing myself like I did before because I realise how unhealthy and stressful it was on me.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: It gets so sticky down here

A city girl in a small town. What could be sadder than that?

In the city, life went fast. In a place like Birch, the days dragged by as if to remind you of how helpless you were beneath the unyielding and inevitable tick of the clock. The hand wound around and around as you waited for what would never happen. The dreams of your childhood eroded beneath the rolling years leaving trail of crumbs you could not follow back to the beginning.

A woman just beyond her prime trapped in an antiquated career. The empty aisles between the shelves full of books bespoke of a bygone era. The forgotten library at the far end of the main street rarely saw a new face and those familiar were fewer by the day. The staff had thinned to three of you; Melissa was older than you with a daughter nearly your age and Colin was close to retirement if not well past.

You got on well enough, as well as you could given Colin’s faulty hearing aid, and Melissa’s wandering mind. They meant well but they shared the lethargy of the old small town. 

You weren’t nostalgic for the smog or the flashing lights of the city, but there was no life to this place. Only the impending reach of death rattling closer in the roar of the motorcycles and the rumble of the old railroad that ran through the middle of town.

The air nipped at your cheeks as you approached the library. A morning of yawning had you craving a latte from the bakery and the quiet girl behind the counter cheerfully steamed the foam before handing it over. Everyone in this town was familiar, everyone knew everyone else, and yet, you still felt like an outsider.

You felt the heat of the cup through your glove and you looked up as you sensed two figures by one of the thick columns of the library façade. Melissa stood chatting with her daughter, hugging her sweater around her as she’d left her coat inside. You peeked up at the grey sky as snow threatened at any moment with the mid-November bite.

As you thought to pass them and leave their conversation uninterrupted, your name drew you back.

“I was just telling my daughter,” Mel began as she waved you over with a chatter of her teeth. “About that podcast you mentioned. She loves those old Hollywood stars.”

“Oh,” you blew the steam away from the lid of your drink as you neared, “It’s alright. The stories are worth the narrator’s schtick.”

“Yeah? I’ve been closing at the bar and I like to listen to something once it clears out.” Mel’s daughter said. “You wouldn’t mind giving me the name?”

You told her the title of the podcast and helped her find it on Spotify to follow for later. Mel shivered and stood closer to her daughter who was bundled up against the onslaught of Birch’s blustering winter. You knew about her too. 

She was friendly but you saw in her a cynicism more common to city folk. You got along but you were weary of her associations. The local club of crass bikers were neither subtle nor savoury. In the city, it was easy enough to ignore the patch and all that came along with it. The seedy figures were distilled by the broader population but not in Birch. There, the club was the town.

“Mom, you can’t stay out here.” She poked her mother’s arm. “It’s too cold.”

“Little better in the library.” You grumbled and sipped your latte. “The radiator’s broken again.”

“You mean Colin broke it trying to fix what wasn’t broken,” Melissa shook her head, “and I’m fine, dear. I’ve spent more than fifty winters in Birch and been through worse than this.”

“Yes, but you were younger then--” Her voice dwindled as she turned her head to listen to the distant roar of exhaust.

You followed her gaze and noted the way her forehead creased at the noise. She swallowed and turned to watch as a dark rider turned onto the main road from the highway. It was the man who kept her entwined with the club, the one who marked her latent authority over all others. The only one who outranked her.

She swore and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother touched her arm. It was a telling and surprising moment. Her expression read of all the disgust you felt for the bikers.

At least a dozen bikes followed the first and Bucky raised his glove hand to signal the others to slow as he pulled up to the curb just before the library steps. You backed away as his breath clouded around him and he waved Mel’s daughter closer. He craned to kiss her as she bent, her fingers picking at her jeans as she did, then he nodded his greeting to Mel.

“What are you doing?” He asked tersely.

“Can’t I see my mother?” The daughter challenged and the biker scoffed.

“Of course,” he killed his engine and the others mimicked him in fine order. “I wouldn’t keep ya from her but you didn’t tell me you were going downtown.”

“You were gone.”

You listened to the conversation as you stayed close to the column, thinking of sneaking up the steps into the library before you heard too much. Your curiosity had you searching the crowd of leather jackets as their wearers tried to conceal their impatience with their boss’ impromptu halt.

Among them, a large man sat casually in his seat, his feet planted on the cold pavement as he rolled slightly back and forth. Strands of his thick blond hair were drawn back beneath his helmet into a thick braid as the rest hung around his shoulders. His patch was different from the rest, an old Norse symbol you didn’t know the meaning of. There were several others who wore the same cut, including a dark-haired woman who chatted with another golden-haired rider.

You tasted your latte again, it cooled quickly as the cold air battered the cardboard. As you sipped and sidled around the column, your eyes were caught by another pair. The very man you’d just been watching was now focused on you. You stopped, hoping like some frightened animal that your stillness would ward off his attention.

“Barnes,” the broad blonde man spoke as he finally looked away. “You’ve not even introduced me to your woman. I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”

Bucky shifted on his bike and sighed. You hadn’t expected the man to have an accent. His voice was deep but the subtle lilt defined his tone as unforgettable. The dark-haired biker of Birch rolled his eyes before he pointed to his girl and gave her name, then to Melissa as he explained their relation.

You sidestepped around the column to the stairs of the library and turned away. You were stopped again by the same voice.

“And that one? The quiet one?”

You spun back slowly and looked at each biker, many unconcerned with conversation, as a few stared back at you or at the viking-like rider. Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow at Melissa’s daughter. She hesitated before she gave your name coolly referred to you as just another librarian. She was trying to deflect the focus and you were thankful for it. You wondered at her own blatant spite for that breed of man.

“No one important,” Bucky grabbed his keys. “Come on, honey. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I can walk.”

“Get on.” He said gruffly and turned the keys.

The motorcycles thrummed back to life in a cacophony. You flinched and turned back to the library doors. Your lunch was almost over as it was and the cold was starting to make your head hurt. You heard the bikes tear off as you reached the door and you turned back to watch as Melissa ran up after you.

You held the door for her and paused as you watched riders tear away. The blonde remained and watched you with a smirk. He winked as he slowly rolled after the others and pushed off. You followed Melissa inside and pulled the door shut tightly behind you.

“I’ll finish the returns,” you slipped past her, “you should try to warm up.”

“Thanks, dear,” she rubbed her hands together as she neared the curve desk you all shared, “God, that man makes my skin crawl.”

“But your daughter--”

“She handles him as well as she can,” Melissa sat and logged onto her boxy PC, “she’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

You sat and chewed on the thought. You just assumed her daughter leaped at the opportunity to date the most powerful man in town. What else could a girl from Birch hope for?

“She doesn’t…”

“He keeps her safe, I guess,” Melissa muttered, “I don’t say nothing against it. I won’t, for her sake as much as mine.”

You lowered your lashes and turned to the stack of unscanned books. You took the first and opened the cover.

“I didn’t mean to-- I don’t really know anything about the… bikers.”

“Hope you never do, dear,” she said listlessly. “Those men, if you can call them that, are the lowest form of humanity.”

💀

You always took the same route home. It wasn’t very far. You lived in the studio apartment above Tammy’s, the clothes shop where all the local seniors got their outdated outfits. The store itself smelled like a retirement home but you were not often disturbed by the activity below. Like everything in Birch, it wasn’t very exciting.

Your walk took you past the diner and along the stretch across the street from the town’s sentinel, The Asp. The bar was the only place in town which always seemed to be bursting with life. You had an old Chevrolet parked behind the building but you never drove to work, only on your odd trip to the city to get away from the suffocation malaise of main street.

That day as you fumbled to get your earbud back in, you heard a whistle. You got a few comments now and again about your habit of blocking out the townsfolk and the town itself with your music. In the city, you didn’t just say hi to every person you walked by and you had little inclination to change that habit.

You kept going and the whistle came louder. You heard boots hammer across the street and you stopped as the earbud once more fell out of your ear.

“Eh, kitten,” you turned to the long-haired biker. A golden hammer hung from a chain and peaked out from the open collar of his jacket. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you faced him with blatant irritation. “We didn’t get to meet properly, did we?”

You stared at him and let out a foggy breath. You leaned on your left heel and shook your head with a scoff.

“No.” You said and turned back along your path.

“No?” He repeated and his footsteps followed closely. “I’m only being friendly, kitten. I’m not from around here and I’m just tryn’ ta make a few friends.”

“I’m not interested,” you march onward and stop short. 

You realised if you went any further, you’d lead him straight to your door. You didn’t need him knowing where you lived. You veered off and crossed the street, he stayed close just like your shadow. You’d stop by the liquor store and wait him out there.

“Where are you going, kitten?”

“Can’t you take a hint?” You nearly tangled your own legs as you pivoted sharply. “I’m sorry for your luck that you’ve ended up in Birch but I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.” You grasped the handle of the liquor store door. “Oh, and my name isn’t kitten.”

“I know your name. I remember it.” He grinned and you swung open the door. He caught it behind you and you let out a frustrated sigh as he trailed you inside. “It’s almost as gorgeous as you.”

“Do those work on the women where you’re from?”

You stared at the shelf of fruit wines and tried to ignore him. You were starting to build a real thirst for the bottles.

“I don’t meet a lot of women like you, kitten.”

“Would you stop it--” You blinked and stomped further down the aisle.

“Thor. My name’s Thor.” He offered gallantly. “But you can call me whatever you wish.”

“I could think of a few things.” You bent down to read the label of a wine from the Maritimes.

“Mmm, my thoughts run wild, kitten.” He purred and you looked up at him in confusion.

You swiped the bottle from the shelf and stood straight. His eyes clung to your ass and as you turned, they swiftly found your chest. Neither were well-hidden by your jacket, even as thick as it was. Your weight often deterred the whistles and the leers, but not this time.

“How many ways can I tell you to go away?” You hissed and move to step around him. He turned and watched you pass. He shivered as you brushed against him unwillingly in the narrow aisle.

“So, you got a man?” He questioned as again he tailed you to the counter. You grabbed a small bottle of Vodka from the rack beside it and dug out your wallet.

“Does it matter?”

He bent and leaned on the counter beside you and you ignored his attempt to look you in the face. You paid and took your change as the clerk bagged your purchase.

“To me, everything about you matters, kitten.”

You shot him a sharp look and took your paper bag. You hugged it close and glared at him as he straightened. “Stop calling me that.”

“Here,” he gripped the top of the bag, “I’ll help.”

“I’ll smash this bottle over your head,” you threatened. “Now I’ve told you to leave me alone.”

He chuckled and dipped his head. His hair slid down the leather and he scratched his thick beard.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I like to play.” 

He looked at you again, his blue eyes twinkling. You were startled as suddenly he ‘woofed’’ at you. You backed away and he kept close as is to chase you, ready to salivate like the dog he mimicked.

“Get away!” You shouted and raced for the door.

His barks turned to laughter and the bell announced your stagger out onto the street. You didn’t look back as you charged across the street and narrowly missed being mowed down by Linda Karling. You reached the other side as you heard the liquor store door clatter a second time. You sensed his shadow as you turned down a side street.

You walked until you were certain he wasn’t following. The cold blew up your jacket as you mapped out your way back. You could sneak around the back of the clothes shop and sneak up the metal escape. You peered back and forth, the old house just at the town limits nearly faded into the dimming sky and main street shrouded by brick walls.

“Hey,” a small voice surprised you as a woman neared, walking the same route as you. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?”

You stared at her dumbly. It was the woman who worked at the bakery. She hung out with the club too.

“Nothing, I…” You grabbed your earbuds and put them back in your ears. “I was listening to my music and got carried away.”

“Oh?” she chittered like a mouse. “No one comes this way. Only me to see my ma.”

You nodded at her and gave an awkward smile. “Mmhmm. Well, thanks. I probably would’ve wandered right out of town.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said forlornly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For your latte. And you always get the banana loaf when it’s on special and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”

You sniffed and rubbed your neck. You hated that. You hated that everyone knew you, that everyone knew what you did, and that they assumed they knew everything else. But she was sweet and you couldn’t hate her for never being freed from the prison of Birch.

“Oh yeah,” you squeezed the paper bag so it crinkled and pulled out your phone with your free hand, “tomorrow.”