#I'm exceedingly normal I swear

[bosbas]

Chapter 13: it's never too late to come back to my side

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, some swearing

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: ahhhh we're getting close to the end i'm so emotional i love them so dearly

August 15, 1814 - It has come to this author's attention that Mr Benedict Bridgerton will be in attendance at Aubrey Hall this year in time for his family's country house party. This comes after almost two months away in the countryside. Will Mr Bridgerton be shocked to find out that his best friend and his older brother have been courting while he was away? Or has he been kept up to date on the ton's happenings, perhaps by this very column? The lucky guests at Aubrey Hall will find out for themselves in a few days, and the remaining members of the ton in London will surely find out through Lady Whistledown's society papers in the coming week.

"Benedict it's been three days. You have to come downstairs at some point," groaned Hyacinth. She was tired of watching her older brother mope around aimlessly, refusing to participate in any Bridgerton-Beaumont activities.

Knowing bits and pieces of what had happened between you and Benedict, Hyacinth was inclined to leave him to rot in his room forever, completely unsympathetic to his low mood. However, she couldn't help but notice your eyes searching every room you entered, looking for your best friend, only to visibly slump your shoulders when you realized that Benedict had once again failed to show up. So, after three days of watching your disappointment grow exponentially, Hyacinth had taken matters into her own hands. Except for the fact that Benedict was not particularly enthusiastic about Hyacinth's efforts, lying on his bed with a half-open book on his abdomen as he rolled his eyes at his sister.

"Go away. I'm not going to play Pall Mall, just leave me alone," he responded, laying an arm over his eyes.

Hyacinth scoffed in response. "I'm not here to ask if you want to play Pall Mall, brother. If I were, you wouldn't have a choice. Not that you have much choice now, anyway."

Then, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him as hard as her eleven-year-old strength allowed, she tried to make him see sense. "Y/N is even more miserable than you are because you won't even come down for dinner. I don't care that you're the one who upset her in the first place, she wants to see you!"

Seeing Benedict move his arm away from his eyes and give her a questioning look, Hyacinth sighed, exasperated. "Yes, I know about that. Which is how I know you're making it worse by staying cooped up in your room while she's downstairs with no one to talk to."

"She can just talk to Anthony," shot back Benedict, knowing it was a weak argument even before the words came out of his mouth.

Hyacinth did all she could to hold back from screaming at her brother, who was being exceedingly petulant. "You are such an idiot that it's hard to imagine how you lead a semi-normal life," she settled for saying, knowing she would get a lecture if she used any stronger language.

Benedict rolled his eyes, but his gaze shot over to his bedroom door when he heard hushed voices just outside whispering fiercely.

"Yes?" he snapped, loud enough that the voices ceased talking. The door creaked open and a very sheepish-looking Theo and Bastian popped their heads in, stumbling into the room unceremoniously.

After slapping Bastian on the shoulder, only a tad aggressively, Theo cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse our entrance."

"We're here to talk to you about Y/N, obviously, but it seems Hyacinth has beat us to it," finished Bastian, scratching the back of his head.

Benedict grumbled some expletives that were most definitely not appropriate for Hyacinth's ears at the prospect of two of your brothers, and the most athletic ones at that, giving him grief for the way things had played out between the two of you. He was already nursing a piercing heartache and the insurmountable guilt of having ruined his chances at being with you by an ill-timed attempt at a kiss, and he most certainly did not need half of your siblings making him feel worse about it. Having Hyacinth in your corner, and therefore against him, was difficult enough.

"Well, go on then," Ben relented, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could go back to wallowing in his sorrows. Perhaps his intense heartbreak would lead to some magnificent inspiration for his next piece, and he could find comfort in the fact that his art would be massively successful, even if he couldn't have you. A poor consolation prize, but a consolation prize nonetheless.

Bastian looked at Hyacinth pensively, assessing how crude he was going to be with such a young girl present to hear what he was saying. He knew she had probably heard it all before, given that she grew up with four older brothers nearby, but Bastian was hesitant to be the direct cause of any colorful language the youngest Bridgerton might employ. Deciding the benefits of being as direct as possible outweighed the possible lecture he would receive, Bastian spoke quickly, "We just think you're being a fucking idiot."

"Sebastian!" exclaimed Theo, hitting him on the shoulder again and ignoring that Hyacinth was currently dissolving into a fit of giggles. "What he means to say is that we think you're being rather foolish. Though the strength of Bastian's words do communicate how we feel about this, foul as they were."

"Why, thank you. I was sick with worry wondering what your opinion on my relationship with my best friend was," retorted Benedict, not able to help his sarcastic tone even though he knew your brothers were not the best people to provoke right at this minute.

"Don't forget your best friend is our younger sister, so I do imagine we're allowed an opinion," replied Bastian, wanting to keep Benedict in place.

Theo, the more level-headed of the twins, looked at Ben with what could have been construed as a look of sympathy if it weren't also laced with unimaginable anger. "We're quite serious, Benedict. We know what happened a few days ago in your studio. Why can't you just talk to her?"

Benedict sat up and put his head in his hands, rather sick of having everyone know his business. "How on earth does everyone know what happened?"

Theo and Bastian exchanged a glance, unsure whether they should reveal their source. But Hyacinth saved them from an explanation. Quite matter-of-factly, she explained, "Eloise overheard your argument pretty much in its entirety. And, of course, she told everyone. Though I'm sure the twins have heard some bits and pieces from Y/N herself, and perhaps Anthony, too."

Seeing Benedict look from Hyacinth to Bastian to Theo in disbelief, loathing that it was nearly impossible to keep a secret from his family, Bastian commented, "Perhaps if Francesca had been the one to overhear we wouldn't have known so much. But all the better for us that Eloise, quite inexplicably, knows absolutely everything about everyone."

Shaking his head, Benedict accepted the current predicament he was in. "Right, then. I'll have to remember to thank Eloise for allowing me to have this wonderful conversation the next time I see her. Regardless, this makes it easier to tell you that I can't 'just talk to her,' Theo. I can't act like nothing happened."

Bastian immediately rolled his eyes upon hearing Benedict's excuse. "It's truly a wonder your friendship with her has lasted so long. Of course she wants to hear from you! She always wants to hear from you. Even when she's upset with you."

"It's all she ever talks about, usually. How long until she can see you and talk to you about whatever trivial matter she wishes to spend hours talking about," added Theo, hoping to remind Benedict that you needed him. Twenty years of being best friends meant that you needed Ben even when the two of you were fighting. Especially when you were fighting, actually, since Benedict was the only person who knew how to properly console you when you were upset.

"They're not trivial matters," said Benedict defensively. He loved hearing you talk on and on about whatever plot hole was plaguing you, and he found it rather interesting, too, but now was not the time to get into that particular point. "Anyway, that doesn't resolve the issue. It doesn't matter if I talk to her or not, she still doesn't love me back. And I have been doing a splendid job so far of trying to get over her before she marries my brother, so if you could very kindly allow me to continue to do so, I would greatly appreciate it," he finished curtly.

Hyacinth scoffed, in disbelief at her brother's blindness. "She doesn't 'not love you back,' you big baby! I'm eleven years old, I shouldn't be the one telling you to grow up!"

"Hyacinth, stop it. That's unusually cruel, even for you," protested Benedict, feeling an almost physical pain at the impossible possibility that you might love him back after what happened in his studio. He had considered the possibility incessantly in his mind the past few days, of course. But to hear someone else say it, to hear the words spoken so clearly by someone else rather than hearing it in his internal monologue or seeing it written down in his sloppy handwriting in letters he had never sent, was enough to make him feel nauseous.

Up until fairly recently, his love for you had been quite manageable. Even unnoticeable, at least to him, for the first few years. However, now he was quite pointedly aware that every time his heartbeat faltered it was undoubtedly due to you, whether you had laughed in a particularly adorable way or worn a gown that made your figure look quite irresistible. And he had lost any chance he had with you because he was too overcome by his desire to be by your side in a more-than-friendly way and had had awful timing in attempting to kiss you. So, yes, Hyacinth was being quite cruel in his eyes. Even if the cruelty was warranted, seeing how you looked as distraught as he felt.

"I do believe Hyacinth is right," Theo spoke, causing the youngest Bridgerton to beam, radiant, beside him, contrasting Ben's positively ghastly expression. "Y/N has loved you for years. It's been painfully obvious to the rest of us, but apparently, you're too thick to notice."

Bastian piped in to agree with his brother. "Precisely. So we're spelling it out for you. She does love you back, you just decided to confess your love for her at an inopportune moment. If Eloise's memory serves her correctly," which earned him a snicker from Hyacinth, "Y/N never said she didn't love you back."

Theo nodded, "She just said nothing had been resolved. Which it hadn't. So resolve it."

As if trying to romance the woman Ben had been helplessly and irrevocably in love with for the better part of a decade was as easy as taking a stroll, Bastian shrugged and added, "It's simple, really."

Benedict swallowed thickly, hearing a loud ringing in his ears. He found he couldn't focus his eyesight on anything, vision growing blurry as his eyes aimlessly scanned the room. He had taken your abrupt exit from his studio as a complete rejection, a sign that he had ruined any chance of moving beyond the boundaries of the friendship you two had built so lovingly. But apparently, the rejection had not been because you did not love him back, but rather because Benedict had behaved quite like an ass.

The absolute bliss he should have felt was overshadowed by a tightness in his chest that he could easily attribute to fear. There was so much more to lose now. He was scared out of his wits that he'd mess up again and lose you in any way that mattered, friendship and all.

"But what if it's too far gone? What if I don't fix it?" asked Ben, voicing his fears shakily.

Bastian laughed dryly and Benedict felt it more than he would a physical blow. "That's not really an option, is it? That's our sister you're talking about."

Theo growled lowly, not opposed to resorting to violence when the matter concerned the possible heartbreak of his younger sister. "Fix it or we fix you."

And the two walked out, Hyacinth skipping happily in front of them, without acknowledging the garbled groan that came from Ben's throat. He would have to make it count, then. One last chance to make you his. To make a reality the only way he could truly be happy. But it wasn't an impossible task. He knew you better than you knew yourself, after all.

---

You were making your way upstairs to your bedroom after another torturous dinner without Ben when Anthony touched your arm and asked if he could walk you back. It took less than five seconds for you to burst into tears and nod sorrowfully as he led you out of the sitting room where the rest of your families had migrated and were now settling into cozy conversation. Thankfully, no one else noticed, or at least didn't think to call you out on your sudden burst of emotion.

"It's going to be alright, one way or another," Anthony whispered as he led you down the hallway. And though he felt it was appropriate given the circumstance, he refrained from calling you darling or really any other pet name, knowing Benedict was usually the only one to refer to you as such, and thus it might cause you more undue stress.

"I know," you responded tearfully. "I just miss him."

You hiccuped and leaned your head onto Anthony's shoulder. As much as you enjoyed Anthony's company, you secretly wished that it was Benedict's strong shoulder you were feeling. But it didn't do to dwell on such matters now.

"Well, he did tell you he loved you," offered Anthony as the two of you climbed the stairs. "I think you're crazy to not immediately go after him." Perhaps he had been too worried about the fact that Benedict was an idiot to realize that you, too, were an idiot when it came to matters pertaining to your best friend and your very obvious love for him.

You shook your head decidedly. "He did tell me that, yes, but look at what's happened now," you said, flailing your arms in frustration. "He's ignored me for three days. You can't just say you're in love with someone and then not speak with them for three days!"

Anthony laughed softly when you sniffed sulkily, but you kept speaking. "It's too easy for Ben to swoop in after I've done so much work to get over him and found someone I want to marry," you gave the man beside you a pointed stare. "I don't just want to be with him when it's convenient for him. I need Benedict to actually want me and to prove that he wants me. Which he is doing a very poor job of at the minute because I haven't seen him since he confessed he was in love with me," you finished with a huff.

But Anthony was saved from having to respond, as Alex was waiting for you by your bedroom door, hands behind his back.

"Ah, Y/N. Just the person I wanted to see. Do you fancy a chat?"

Seeing that you didn't have much of a choice, you nodded and thanked Anthony, sending him on his way as you turned to face your older brother. "Very well," you relented.

The two of you went inside your bedroom and Alex, ever the unwavering presence in your life, closed the door firmly and crossed his arms as he stared at you. You were a tad nervous, not quite sure of what he was going to say. Ever since you had started courting Anthony, he had steered clear of the two of you, not exactly disapproving of the courtship, but not particularly supportive of it either. Needless to say, you were fairly surprised that he was being so direct with you now, asking to talk to you and staring you down in your room.

"Y/N," he started. "I mean this will all the love that I have in my heart for you, which is quite a lot, but you are being so, so stupid. It's almost painful to watch."

You were completely taken aback. "Excuse me?" you sputtered, not quite believing that your brother would speak to you like this. Although it was nice to hear him speak to you in any way at all, since you knew he had probably been holding back from saying this every time you spoke with him for the duration of your courtship with Anthony.

With a determined look on his face, a slightly furrowed brow, and downturned lips, Alexander pressed on. "You are so obviously in love with Benedict," and before you could protest, he continued speaking. "And he is so obviously in love with you, that I just don't understand the problem. He told you he was in love with you, from what Eloise has said, so I don't particularly see an issue now."

A flicker of confusion passed over your face. "He– What? What are you getting at?" you asked, knowing there was something else that Alex wanted to say.

It was imperative to him that you grasped what he was saying instead of focusing on how he said it. So he sighed a tad impatiently but spoke steadily enough that you wouldn't be put off by his tone of voice. "At the beginning of the season, I wasn't absolutely bricking it over my little sister debuting in society because I didn't think I would have to worry about you actually courting anyone. I just assumed that you and Ben would end up married, much like the rest of our families. In fact, I assumed you would be married already. It's mid-August now, and I thought you would have at the very latest married in June. Again, I mean this with a lot of love, but you're being a massive idiot. Every single person in our family can see that you're in love. So go be with the man you love!"

You were stunned. Alex had never made any indication that he thought that you and Ben would marry. But then again, perhaps you and Benedict loving each other came so naturally that he didn't need to.

Nevertheless, you shook your head adamantly. "I don't care what you thought, or what the rest of the family thought, or even what I thought! Benedict left me when I needed him, and Anthony was there for me–"

"So, you're marrying Anthony, then? You've decided you still want to be with him after all this?" asked Alex, on the brink of losing his seemingly endless temper.

"I don't know! Maybe? I haven't entirely decided, yet," you argued. "But it's either that or no marriage since Benedict hasn't exactly provided an alternative solution, and I would rather die than marry a man of the ton."

"But do you love Anthony?" asked your brother, voice clear as it cut through your rambling.

"Does it matter?"

"To you, it does," he responded firmly, but not unkindly.

And he was right. To you, it did matter. Perhaps not to Anthony, and perhaps not to Alexander, either. But to you, it did. Or it had, at least. And shouldn't it still matter? Even if you hadn't had the most linear season, and you hadn't found exactly what you were looking for. Shouldn't you still hope for love? And shouldn't you still fight for it, despite your best friend's terrible timing?

—

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[wileys-russo]

never being able to finish a movie with golden retriever unc lessi because she can’t sit still for that long and the two of you just end up messing around and making out instead 😫😫😫 I want her to kiss me SO BAD

golden girl II a.russo

you tapped your foot impatiently as you knocked on the door of your girlfriends dorm room, not having been able to see your favorite blonde all day which had felt like an eternity.

normally the two of you were attached at the hip, both exceedingly needy, but with her championship game coming up alessia was having to do extra training sessions almost daily, and with your finals in full swing you were needing to study.

things in which you were unable to help one another at all.

you were dangerously uncoordinated with a football and your girlfriend was dangerously distracting when you were trying to focus on your revision.

but you'd finally finished your last test today, and alessia had finished training early due to the heat wave which had decided to roll in just in time for the weekend. which finally meant the two of you could spend some quality time together again, both having been texting the other all day about how much you missed them, despite having seen one another just last night.

like you said, you were both exceedingly needy, and forever teased by your friends for your obvious co-dependency.

when she didn't answer you knocked again, in fact you knocked continuously until you finally heard footsteps hurrying closer on the other side of the door.

"oh my god i was literally using the toilet can you-"

"catch me!" you sang out, suddenly launching yourself at the taller blonde, jumping on her and wrapping your legs around her waist as she stumbled slightly but caught you, flinging the door closed.

"hi baby!" the blonde beamed happily, any previous annoyance at your feverish knocking completely wiped away. "hello gorgeous." you grinned, grabbing her face and smashing your lips to hers, pulling away with a slight smack as your mouths seperated.

"i missed you." alessia's entire face lit up as she placed you gently back down on your feet, drawing your body into hers and peppering your face all over with kisses. "i missed you more. how was training?" you both exchanged a few proper kisses and sat down on her bed.

"god it was awful. we were doing wind sprints and conditioning and it was so hot!" alessia groaned at the memory, collapsing backwards into the mattress, both of you shuffling around so you were sat up against her headboard and her head lay in your lap.

"if even i think its hot i can't imagine what its like for your poor british skin." you teased, tangling your hands in her hair. this then prompted her into an infamous ramble, the girl chattering away happily as you hummed occasioanly to show her you were listening.

"oh! hey i saw this video babe i wanna try something." she shot up suddenly, frantically changing subject, scrambling for her phone and tapping through for a moment. "no way, you'll drop me!" you shook your head in refusal at what she was propsing.

"no i won't! look at these." she made a show of flexing her muscles as you rolled your eyes, fake yawning and checking the time on your imaginary watch, squealing as your girlfriend tickled your sides for the action.

"come on." she stood, grabbing your hands and tugging you with her, laying down on the floor and assuming the right position. "like the video." she encouraged, propping her legs up and holding out her hands for you to grab.

"lessi i really don't think-" "don't think, just do. just trust me!"

you gave in with a sigh, shuffling closer and very carefully moving so you were stood basically on the balls of her feet. "see!" alessia grinned, pushing her legs upwards as you made a strange noise and your girlfriend held you up in the air.

"i'm gonna let go now." "baby no!" "it'll be fine, okay in 5, 4, 3-" "if you drop me i swear to-"

though of course your sentence was cut short as she dropped your hands early and you wobbled, going toppling down on top of her as the blonde let out a loud grunt as your body collected with hers.

"i told you! idiot." you smacked her shoulder and sat up, rubbing at your ribs which had copped the force of most of the fall. "oh that reminds me! lotte did this insane slide tackle today babe." with that your past activity was forgotten, alessia eagerly jumping to her feet.

you smiled in amusement as she threw her whole body into her story telling, hands flying around and legs kicking out violently as she avidly re-enacted various things which had happened to her today making you laugh.

your beautiful golden retriever of a girlfriend.

~

"babe can i braid your hair please?" you hummed with a nod at her request, adjusting your position laid up in between your girlfriends legs.

her slender fingers carefully let down your hair, combing through it gently as your focus remained on the movie playing on her laptop which was perched precariously on a stack of textbooks at the end of the bed.

both of you having joined your friends for dinner earlier in the evening you'd cut your time with them short, returning to alessia's room to shower and soak up all the quality time you could with one another before she'd be busy most of the weekend preparing for the championship.

to your surprise the blonde had suggested the two of you watch a movie, the heat still relentless and the air thick and humid, not letting up no matter how late into the night it ticked.

both of you were laid together with alessia only in shorts and a sports bra and you in a large shirt of hers opting out of shorts entirely, sleeves rolled up to your shoulders.

though given the shortness of your girlfriends attention span you were impressed you'd gotten even halfway through the movie, the heat seeming to calm her normally hyperactive behavior.

but it would appear, you spoke far too soon.

"baby i'm bored." the girl sighed heavily, growing tired of playing with your hair as her arms flopped back down to her sides. "watch the movie then." you smiled, craning your head back to press a sweet kiss to her jaw, grabbing her arms and wrapping them back around you.

that seemed to work for about ten minutes.

"baby i'm still bored." she whined, head thumping against the headboard with a groan. "we can do something else after this finishes lessi." you promised, squeezing her hands which were intertwined as your eyes stayed trained to the laptop screen.

"...or we could do something else now?" she husked in your ear, your body tensing in her arms as she started to kiss at your neck. "i really want to see how this ends babe, go practice your juggling or something." you shrugged her away, now only around a half hour left of the movie you were determined to see its resolution.

"it's too hot for that." the blonde pouted, chin resting on your shoulder as her hands left your own, creeping their way up your body and you knew where she intended them to land. "alessia." you warned quietly, far too used to the outspoken girls antics when she didn't get her way.

"mm?" she hummed, her hands sure enough dipping down the collar of your shirt and settling themselves on your chest. "no baby." you sighed in amusement, grabbing her wrists and removing them, holding them back around your waist.

"yes baby." she yanked them away and quickly reassumed her position, squeezing your chest teasingly. "no!" you laughed, removing them again much to her impatient protests.

"but i can't sit still babe, can we pleasee makeout or something." alessia almost begged, her knees starting to bounce beneath you as her lips peppered kisses along your bare shoulder. "there is like twenty minutes left lessi, play with your phone or something." you denied her again with a small sigh, eyes still refusing to leave the screen much to your girlfriends growing need and annoyance.

"you could pause it, we have a little smooch, watch the ending, continue to smooch...maybee a little extra afterwards." alessia suggested with a wry smile, teeth tugging playfully at your ear lobe.

"smooch? who the hell's been teaching you to say that?" you laughed, your girlfriend groaning as you ignored her request. she tapped your shoulders and grumbled she needed to use the toilet as you sat up to allow her to get up. you blew her a kiss as she continued to pout at you moodily, huffing when your head turned back to the movie.

she returned a few moments later, flopping herself down on top of you and ignoring your whines it was too hot as her legs settled either side of your hips. "what are you doing?" you sighed as she basically laid herself down on top of you, pressing her face into your neck.

"just watch your movie baby." she whispered, your eyes fluttering shut with a wince as her teeth suddenly sank into the tanned flesh of your shoulder.

"lessi!" you managed to breathe out as the girl left a feverish hickey, her tongue gently swiping over the bright red mark to soothe its sting, quickly moving onto the column of your throat, sucking aggressively at the skin making your hips buck involuntarily.

"no no, you just watch your movie babe." you felt her smile into the skin as she attacked your neck, holding your hands down to the mattress as you tried to grab at her. "shit." you hissed as she left a particularly nasty lovebite on your collarbone, kissing over it gently and murmering how much she loved you in your ear.

the movie long forgotten now your eyes closed and your head pressed back into the pillow with a needy whine as the taller girls knee came to slot in between your legs.

you exhaled shakily as the striker purposefully pressed down right where you needed her, but intentionally not with enough pressure to satisfy the way her lips destroying your neck right now was making you crave her.

"tell me how the movie ended baby, or no more touching." alessia grinned down at you with a wicked glint in her eye, loving nothing more than to rile you up so your energy levels matched her own which were constantly soaring.

"they all murdered him." you managed to get out as she pulled your shirt up with her teeth, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses up your stomach and sternum, the sight only driving you further toward insanity as she pressed her knee down a little more firmly, teasingly moving it round and round in slow circles.

"oh really? why?" she asked, nose tucking itself back into your neck as her kisses became sweeter, her tongue lovingly tracing its way across the scattered galaxy of marks you both knew you'd be yelling at her for later.

"he was-he was a bad man. ripped them all off!" you stammered out, the blondes mouth now hovering over yours with a hum. with expert precision she leaned back slightly, using her foot to slam the laptop closed, cutting off the sound and plunging the room into silence.

finally letting go of your hands you wasted no time grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her mouth to meet with yours, a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue as the two of you shifted and rolled against one another, quiet moans echoing around the dorm room.

you huffed as alessia again pinned your hands by your head, grinning down at you cheekily as she pecked your sweetly lips a few times. how the girl could go from assertively sexy to cute and goofy in a matter of seconds would always baffle you.

"my most pretty girl." alessia murmured affectionately, smiling at you lovingly for a moment before letting go of your hands and pressing a tender kiss to your sweaty forehead.

the striker then rolled off of you, claiming she was now far too hot to continue, leaving you hot and bothered in another way as you looked to her in disbelief, the blonde reaching over for her laptop.

"so, what should we watch next baby?"

[t4tozier]

consider: porter meets jace's family. would it be a mess or would porter flex the "paladin IS a charisma caster" so much that jace is like WHO are you

ohhh my god. those three levels of paladin are really pulling the weight here. okay okay this is my first time posting about jace's family in like. a relatively canon au so now i have to decide things.

ik i'm in the minority here but i feel like he actually has a pretty normal family? (normal being subjective of course) but i think he has a high elven mother, human or maybe half-elf father. i was pretty dead set on divine soul jace for a minute at the beginning but now i'm partial to wild magic sorcerer so i think he maybe got that from one of his parents and the other is a ranger. maybe elven ranger mom and wild magic sorcerer dad.

he's definitely an only child to me, so his parents were pretty doting, and it's a huge deal whenever he starts seeing anyone because they want to make sure the person is treating their baby right. when jace is in his 20s, he has a pattern of bringing people home to meet his parents and then, anywhere from a week to a year later, coming to them crying about how it didn't work out or he got tired of them or they got tired of him. and then there's a long stretch of time where they don't hear anything about jace's prospective partners.

so then, when he finally brings porter up to them, they're like. oh?? our boy has finally (maybe) settled down?? and he's like. you Cannot embarrass me okay. i Mean It. and they're like. well. we're going to embarrass you we're your parents.

and porter doesn't really know how to feel. he's met some partners' parents in the past, but not many, and most of them turned their noses up when they found out he was a goliath or a barbarian. so he's kind of on edge actually. and jace simultaneously is trying to comfort him being like no it's fine they're nice i swear and freaking out because he's like i haven't brought anyone home in over a decade they know this is a Big Thing i really need this to go well for everyone involved.

but it actually ends up being...okay?? they set up in the backyard so porter doesn't have to awkwardly make himself fit into their (modest, but not exceedingly large) house, and he brings them a nice bottle of wine that zara recommended and flowers and he is charming, so much so that it does throw jace a little, but it's not even that he's turning it up for jace's parents--he just genuinely is that charismatic when he's not being a dick. and he knows jace wants this to go well--and so does he, okay, he has feelings, too, sue him--so he does his best to be nice. but it's not even that hard, in the end; he bonds with jace's mom over her explorations into the mountains of chaos and only slightly humiliates jace with stories of his surges that his parents then proceed to top with talking about his surges during puberty.

as jace is saying goodbye to his parents that night, they both give him little thumbs up and are like you picked a good one. and jace flushes and goes off to the car as porter comes out of the bathroom, and jace's dad is like so. cliffbreaker. i expect to see a ring on that finger next time you two visit. and porter chuckles a little and nods and says, i'll do my best, sir, and heads out to the car where jace is wine-loose and smiley, and he reaches over to pull porter in for a kiss as he gets in the car and murmurs i love you against his lips and porter grins and kisses him harder before pulling out of the driveway so that he can show jace just how much he means it when he says i love you, too.

[lakesbian]

ok i was going to read 1.3 and then say things about 1.2 but i'm sleepytired again so i will read 1.3 tomorrow. world's slowest bookread ever this thing is far shorter than worm and yet i will manage to make it take forever via power of being distracted easily

first of all: i have once again lost the fucking plot. lost in the sauce of bad things happening. i respond to horror like a baby watching keys dangle. so long as bad things are happening to blake i am going to be watching and clapping instead of thinking carefully. that's a lie i am absolutely still thinking carefully but i am primarily more invested in the bad things happening

ok no seriously though. ahem. as for thoughts on the universe thus far: no groundbreaking updates in that department. we're obviously getting more on rose but i do not have solid thoughts on her or the mirror world presently. watching and looking and contemplating but we'll get there when we get there.

i presume blake is correct abt the horrors being given specific instructions vs acting entirely autonomously--presumably others sent after him by whichever random enemy no 234325 he inherited. i'm aware "people can make pacts with magic guys to go do things" is an absolute nothing-statement when it comes to a universe called pact that runs on fairy-logic and we've already seen an example of it previously but my point is that i presume there are other specific ppl and/or entities w/ more character responsible for directing the attacks, and we'll meet them sooner or later.

exceedingly endeared to the atmosphere in this. as always wildbow will write one million redundant poorly phrased little sentences and then somehow it results in a genuinely compelling atmosphere. love the visual of blake driving the car around The Horrors & then it breaking down in the snowy darkness. the lights slowly going out et cetera.

also particularly endeared to him hauling down on the car mirror, getting the tire iron, going on a little monologue to himself about conserving heat, and then immediately having his Horror Movie Protagonist Preparations do nothing and go to shit and then he panics and runs into the woods and trips and almost dies. and he also starts crying near-immediately. and then going "that's fine. that's because of the wind. crying because of the wind. i'm fine" to himself while hysterically screeching at The Horrors he just very unsuccessfully attempted to beat back with a tire iron. he's not doing bad but he's not doing good either. literally just an extremely normal average guy who throws his back out running. it's fantastic. like whatever fantastical circumstances happen to him he still has the heart and soul of a Normal Guy who should be sipping his 7 dollar latte while he walks to art college instead of crying while trying to beat the shit out of fairies. and that's so funny. blake crying throwing up vibrating back and forth saying every swear word he knows in alphabetical order because he has to sew his own hand up So so fucking funny. taylor hebert could do pact but blake thorburn could not do worm. i was right that he could not handle having a juicebox poured on him without calling someone a cunt and slamming doors around about it.

i do hope i find out more about what caused his [pokes around in his brain with a spatula] Issues sooner or later bc it's more interesting to pick him apart if i know what exactly was going on there. but he looooves not thinking about let alone talking about bad memories and he might be a little too busy experiencing New bad memories to ever wheel 'em out for my pleasure. so we'll find out. holding off on any firm thoughts about him until i see if we get any more detail but either way he's interesting. certainly a guy ever. very endearing i like him

[when-did-this-become-difficult]

Mike is probably tearing Kingstown apart to find Iris, terrified that Milo got her and something happened to her. Meanwhile she went over to him😭

Don't get me wrong I love Iris and her finding Milo is probably either some sort of trauma response or smth else is going on, but I'm so sad.

Why couldn't Iris and Mike just be happy on the boat😭 (alright done venting now)

@tangerinesgf oh it's DEFINITELY a trauma response...idk I have a lot to say about this thank you for the opportunity lol

first off i wanna say I prefer them platonic, if this gets anywhere close to sexual im gonna throw a fit, she's so so young and traumatized but thank god so far it doesn't look like they're going that way

but anyways yes! Iris's choice is fascinating BUT I think it makes so much sense if you look at her response to everything and everything that she's experienced in her life...when Milo was in prison, he was still so powerful that he dictated the exact terms of her abuse, and once she was out she had a moment of peace with Mike, but I genuinely feel like the first two episodes of this season have demonstrated to her that Mike does not feel like he is in control. and that is totally normal and understandable from my perspective, and the perspective of like, any grown observer, but she's not...idk her whole life has been determined by these evil powerful men so it's like...to her there's clearly this choice between Milo and Mike—Milo, who is cruel but exceedingly powerful, even having managed to escape prison, and Mike, who is kind but very obviously overwhelmed and not all-powerful, who is clearly losing at the moment in the battle between Milo and Mike, right? Like, she sees Mike's stressed-out face when Milo's brought up and she knows because he tries to get her to go into witsec that he thinks Milo's definitely a threat...I'm so sorry I'm just repeating myself over and over, I'll stop. I will say, I absolutely adored the one moment she had with MIke's mom, even though I remain kind of furious about how the main women on this show are portrayed (not the actresses, god bless them) but like. Fucking Taylor Sheridan pull it together man

from Mike's perspective! Oh yes, he'll be tearing the place up, but unfortunately, now that she's physically with Milo, I think she's gonna have to save herself a bit here, because Mike's not gonna be able to do it like he did with the last guys she was stuck with. Milo's a different caliber (which I kind of hate lmao but that's a rant for another day) and even though he remains quite mysterious, we've already seen that he's willing to cross all lines (killing three feds!) and is very clever and quick on his feet (see: how he took advantage of the riot). So basically, no amount of knocking heads together/good luck/street friendships is gonna be enough to lead Mike to Milo's door. Iris is gonna need not only strength, but also guile, to survive this one. And honestly man...idk. Idk if she has that in her. I hope that she does and that they manage to deliver that to us in a way that's believable, but ffs if I have to skip past ooooooooooone more naked scene with this thirteen-year-old-looking girl like adfs;lklfsadjafds I'm gonna be the one rioting I swear.

I do feel really really fucking bad for MIke about all of this ngl. it's not his fault he's only human & can't protect everybody. and I hope this doesn't impact his relationship with Kyle (re: Kyle not wanting her int he house) because Kyle is clearly going through it as well and that's the last thing we need, a rift between those brothers

[delusionaid]

The act of unwrapping a present, while causing great joy to some people, is not Wriothesley's favorite part of the experience. However guessing its content by shape, weight and sound most definitely entertains him, and that requires the present in question to be wrapped. The one he's presented with tonight is hard to guess, even after it's freed from its non-descript box, because it is the first ever present he receives from her (the tea and snacks she's brought on occasion not counting because those aren't wrapped and thus a different kind of gift) which means he can't draw on any previous experience with her gift-giving. The weight of it tells him little and the shape is vague enough to be a number of things. Her smile, mysterious as ever, though pleasing to look at doesn't offer any hints either. A decorative item, perhaps? Some manner of apparatus from Liyue, or typical tableware from there?

Not rushed but unceremoniously Wriothesley unfolds the colorful fabrics wrapped around the bulbous shape and carelessly lets them slip onto his desk while his hand secures the secret that they held. Instantaneously his gaze turns from quizzical to delighted, a comment so close to escaping him that it dangles from his lip - until Yelan chooses to speak, and with just one word reverts the recognition he felt for a few joyful seconds. No. No? "A teapot ill-suited for brewing? Sounds like a criminal running a prison." There's a certain analogy in there somewhere, Wriothesley thinks, now more curious about its nature than even before unboxing his gift. He lifts the teapot with both his hands to get a better look at it, turning it from side to side. It's delicately made, its style and finish clearly marking it as a product of Liyue, but other than that it appears exceedingly normal.

"If there's tea you've already won me over," he adds, amusement tingling at his insides in the face of Yelan's secretiveness. His name, a cluster of syllables representing many things, has never sounded warmer than coming from her lips. What great secret could a teapot possibly hold? "When I'm ready.." he repeats without grasping the meaning, turning his eyes away from her and back to the teapot and then closing them as requested. It makes him feel a little silly, but birthdays, he found, are generally welcome opportunities to not take oneself so seriously. "Where am I going?" he chuckles while his fingers curl around the smooth surface of the teapot. For a moment he could swear he feels it vibrate under his touch but the sensation is so fleeting he forgets about it almost as it happens.

It's the sound of birds chirping up above that makes him open his eyes again and in his surprise of what he sees he lets go.. but the teapot doesn't fall. Instead, it floats in the air like a balloon where he let go of it, swaying softly in the breeze that shouldn't be around them by any laws of nature. "What.." Wriothesley mutters breathlessly, his eyes wide as they take in the scenery before him. Mountains, embraced by clouds on the horizon, lush meadows speckled with golden trees stretching in between them, and in the distance a harbor city shining with hundreds of lights in the descending evening (or fading night?) similar to and yet so unlike Fontaine.

The ground beneath his boots is softer than it was a moment ago, blades of grass bending under his weight as he sinks into the earthy surface. It feels as real as anything he's ever experienced, the sun on his face and the wind in his hair and yet it can't be. Without any malice a thought crosses his mind and slips away before he can hold on to it. She wouldn't. It's too fantastical to comprehend, too strange to punch through his confusion readily and so he stays stunned and paralyzed by wonderment, the world before him unchanging no matter how often he blinks. Before he can gather himself she appears at his side and only then he moves, spinning to meet her gaze with a most puzzled expression.

"What- what just happened?"

Finally removed from the box that had contained it for too long a time and too far a distance, her gaze softened in her watch of him. Or perhaps, it warmed simply at the sight of his confusion at this unusual, yet surely oddly familiar shape before him, one that was now left wrapped in fabrics from exquisite silks to colorful linens. Even they were gifts, and yet none of them would be warmer than what they held concealed tightly within them. She could have spoken then, could have uttered words of wit or promise, but she had chosen silence instead as she often had and would again, and again in his presence. In truth, observing him was often all that she'd longed to do: seeing that curiosity unfold amidst the countenance that she'd see even at the close of her eyes at night when he was impossibly far from craving fingers, and seeing the confusion tickle the corner of his lips. Every twitch of muscle and every glint in those eyes were things that she had come to revel, and they were things that she had lost track of when they'd come to matter as much as they did now. Somehow, and somewhere, he had become the one thing that she didn't understand, and yet understood far better than anything else.

"No." Ah, the need to comment had arisen, and the chuckle that'd come before it had been much too warm in nature. "It's not your regular teapot, I think it's even a little ill-suited for tea brewing." She'd pulled some strings for this numerous moons ago, cashed in favors with the traveler and Liyue's adepti alike, and then owed a tenfold more to a certain renowned Madame Ping. But she would owe another dozen if that was what it had taken her, for no price would be too much anymore. "Don't worry," she whispered in jest, "I promise that there's plenty of tea inside of it." She truly reveled much too fondly in the sight of him still. And so as she fought all urge to lean into his side for now, a smile lingered on her lips to prevail over any confusion that he might feel in reassurance. "When you're ready, lay your hand to it, and close your eyes." If he cannot see Inazuma, Sumeru, Mondstadt or any other of Teyvat's nations, then she would bring them to him. And first, he would see Liyue. He would see the sun and moon take their turns above its shore and he'd see its mountains to his back, and he'd witness its harbor in the distance. But most importantly, he would see a place amidst it all that belonged to no one but him, a place crafted for his escape, a place she crafted for his peace. "I hope that it's to your liking, your Grace," No, he was Wriothesley. He'd become it long ago, sometime before she became his. "—Wriothesley."

A finger rose to move in a slow stroke across his jawline, right up to his chin, as a whisper formed ever quietly on her tongue. It was warm, and filled with promise. "Go, I'll be right behind you."

Happy rebirthday, Wriothesley 💙 // @delusionaid

[commaclear]

.....hhhh........tnt duo..........beauty and the beast au.............quackity is the beast....................wilbur comes to rescue his brother tommy.........and gets captured himself.......................karl and sapnap are servants in the castle..................

*grabs you and shakes you* QUACKITY GIVES HIM A LIBRARY!!! WIL FUCKING TEACHES HIM HOW TO EAT SOUP!!!!!!

CAN ANYONE HEAR ME

[zorcskhakis]

ryou doesn't want to go to graduation so bakura goes instead

(Okay I know I promised no more emo shit but this one is the last one I SWEAR.

Not roommates au but a different au I thought up a while ago where the Millenium Items are gone but Bakura and Atem are still with their respective hosts.)

"I'm not going."

Not going?! After all the fuss you made every day about how 'we have to go to school', 'I have to graduate and get out of this place', all the times I had to drop my plans?

"Please, Bakura, you never dropped your plans for anything." Ryou sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed. "But I'm not going. If I go, I'll just spend the entire time fielding weird looks from everyone who will wonder how I'm graduating with how much I was gone." And he certainly didn't feel like explaining that he had pathetically murmured his way through half-lying explanations for his absences and missed assignments to teachers who had listened sympathetically, nodding along as he awkwardly stammered, some offering encouraging pats on the shoulder as they agreed to allow him to pass their classes so he could graduate.

He wanted to blame Bakura for the missed time - but he couldn't. Plenty of his absences fell on days he had full control, and there had been exceedingly few times Ryou hadn't passively gone along with whatever Bakura had going on at the moment. It was easier, somehow, than trying to deal with normal life.

Your friends will miss you.

"Since when have you cared about that?"

Come on, now. I've always cared about you having friends. Do you remember how many people I trapped in tabletop minis so you could have friends?

"Oh, right. I forgot, you thought that was helpful."

Got you the friends you have now, didn't it?

"No, it didn't."

Come on, you would never have talked to them again if our little Monster World escapades hadn't happened, and you know it.

"...Fine, maybe. Still, I don't feel well, and I'll get all the papers in the mail later anyhow."

I could go for you.

"No. Bad idea. Very bad. No one even knows you're still here."

I'll be good! I can do a very good 'you'. Ryou could practically feel Bakura's gleeful grin forming at the back of his mind. Hello guys, it's lovely to see you all again! Look at us, we survived high school! Isn't this just smashing?

"I do not sound like that. You're awful at pretending to be me."

You do. Maybe you're just awful at pretending to be happy.

Ryou drew in a breath. Bakura had developed a nasty habit of sprinkling genuinely astute insights into the inane nonsense he usually spoke, and it had only gotten worse since the Ring was gone and Zorc was no longer holding him back.

"Fine. Maybe I am--"

Ryou felt the familiar tug-at-the-back-of-the-neck feeling he always did, and found himself suddenly watching from within himself.

"Besides," Bakura said as he went about preparing to leave, "I want to see Marik later. I haven't seen him since all that business in Egypt happened. He's back in Domino, isn't he?"

...Yes. I meant to tell him you were here, but...

"But you've been too busy moping in your apartment. No more! Off we go."

Ryou passively observed as Bakura made his way out of the apartment to the bus stop, where he boarded and headed for the back of the bus. It seemed he was planning on behaving.

Ryou noticed a few of his classmates were on the bus as well, watching from where they sat. They peered curiously at him, but it somehow felt less hostile and piercing than the last time he had been stared at. He would never have admitted it, not in a million years, but there was some strange sense of safety and comfort watching the world from behind Bakura's control.

They arrived to the graduation late - it had just started when Bakura hurried in through the doors of the auditorium and found his seat near the back of the room. Ryou listened as the ceremony proceeded, a faint guilt eating at him as he thought about the fact that he probably should not have been here, finishing high school with the rest of his classmates who had worked hard and done their assignments and attended their classes.

He lifted his eyes and looked ahead. He could see Joey, Tristan, and Téa... and Yugi, standing up to walk up to the stage. He remembered, then, that Yugi was the valedictorian... and the guilt bored through him even deeper.

Can we go home now?

"Come on now, we're almost done," Bakura whispered under his breath.

Ryou listened through Yugi's speech, wishing he was anywhere else. It was a good speech - a great speech. Yugi cared about all of his friends, and he was genuinely happy that they'd all made it to the end of this together, and it showed. He was a good friend - better than Ryou deserved.

Finally, the entire affair was over - and Ryou felt Bakura starting to step over toward the door, but then his course abruptly changed.

What are you doing? It's over, let's go--

"I'm making sure you keep your friends around," Bakura huffed aas he made a beeline to the place where Yugi stood with his friends. "Again. The right way this time."

Before Ryou could object, he was standing before his friends - and Bakura had forced him back in control.

Yugi glanced over to him, and his eyes widened. "Oh, Ryou! You're here! I didn't see you before."

Ryou grimaced. "I got in a little late..."

Yugi smiled warmly, reaching out to grab his arm and tug him closer to where everyone else stood. Ryou wanted to resist, but he followed along. "That's okay, I'm glad you're here. We're going back to the shop... I thought maybe we could order a pizza, and play some games. Would you like to come?"

Ryou took a breath, readying himself to make his excuses, but he looked up to see Joey, Tristan, and Téa looking at him with expectant smiles. There was none of the judgement or revulsion he thought he had seen in their gazes before... and he was starting to wonder if perhaps it had never been there at all.

He smiled. "Yes. That sounds wonderful."

[thorxthunder]

can you do something with a really posessive but also sweet norman osborn

So um... this is my first Norman request so if anyone has advice, let me know!!! <3

In The Lab (Jealous! Norman x reader)

Norman isn't jealous.

He especially isn’t jealous when you’re at the other side of the lab, getting stared at and admired by a legion of brats, and when one particularly blatant scientist casts an appraising look down at your (admittedly incredible) ass, Norman's hands don't tighten around his pen, and he is most decidedly not jealous.

He makes a point of not listening to them talk, keeping his attention focused on his notebook, and if some of their conversation brushes against his ears every so often he can't really be blamed for eavesdropping, can he?

When you start to pour some unknown liquids together and a scientist licked their lips and purred, "Those forearms are better than porn," Norman doesn't quickly write his findings on the notebook with more force than necessary and doesn't imagine aiming the pencil and near-by lab equipment at their head.

"Student Chambers, observing my forearms instead of the experiment may explain the exceedingly low scores you achieved on the last test," you retort, the slightest hint of a reprimand in your impassive declaration, and Chambers flushes a bright pink as the assembled researchers chuckled.

Norman doesn't chuckle. He needs to let out a bit of breath occasionally to avoid straining his rib cage. It has nothing to do with you being your usual super-competent self and putting junior researchers in their place with the carefully controlled deadpan most people don't seem to realize is your form of snark. Even if said deadpan seems to call up a flood of fondness and warms Norman's heart when he feels threatened.

The 3-hour-long program Norman has set up in order to keep his skills polished has transitioned from small chemical reactions, and when some less-focused researchers let out gasps of astonishment, well, maybe he smirks just a little. The smirk quickly falls off his face when you began to type your findings on a nearby computer, and Norman swears he doesn't tense up when Chambers sighs, "Imagine what those fingers could do in bed."

You level a glare at him, your face carefully set in the bland mask Norman has seen cripple people with confidence several orders of magnitude above Chambers's, Norman included. " Chambers, I hereby request you desist flirting with me. Any other references to my skills in the bedroom will hereby be construed as harassment and will be reported personally to Mr. Osborn."

You glance at Norman, apologetically. Norman definitely isn't looking at you.

Chambers pouts. "What's a guy to do for some attention, ya know?"

"Maintain professionalism and work hard," You state, unflappable as always, and calmly resumes the lesson. Norman could kiss you, but Harry has already yelled off his ear for mentally scarring the researchers, so he bites back his disconsolate.

"So I'm guessing coffee is completely out of the question?"

Norman is normally a rational, logical human being, and he knows that it's a throwaway line, a casual jab as Chambers concedes the point to you, but the snarling cacophony of “Mine MINE MINE Y/N IS MINE MINE MY Y/N MINE” thundering through his ears is a bit distracting.

Your voice cuts through Norman's internal screaming. "As your immediate superior, I am obligated to inform you that fraternization is outlawed by paragraph 7 section C of the Osborn Internship Program" you intone, the barest hint of a growl in your tone, and Norman's heart sinks because really? You’re rejecting him over the manual, and not because you and Norman are-

"While I’m happily married," you continue, unaware of Norman's internal monologue, "I'd just like to point out that my husband is extremely protective and won't hesitate to stake his claim if you are ever so forward again."

When you smile at Norman, Norman finally stops pretending that he's not jealous and smiles sheepishly back, because you are the only person Norman trusts with his heart, and you trust Norman with your own heart too.

With a light heart, Norman snaps his razor-sharp focus back to his computer to type, berating himself for getting distracted by you. Though he doesn't blame himself, you are incredibly distracting, he can't stop staring at you while you sleep, your face soft and open in a show of unadulterated trust Norman still doesn't quite believe he's managed to deserve.

Chambers stutters out an abashed apology as a murmur of dissent rises from his fellow researchers, and Norman is heartened when some go so far as to shake their head in revulsion.

Norman smiles, breaking out of his (apparently eerily terrifying) resting face. "My partner has done an admirable job in rejecting your advances, Chambers," he informs them. "They’ve made it clear that they are unwelcome, and I'd like to ask you not to continue."

The rage inside him was itching to sink its teeth into the target of his frustrations, and he lets his smile harden "If you try anything like this again," Norman continues, and lets some of his simmering fury color his words, "I will deal with you faster than Y/N can file the requisite paperwork to rebase you far to the north of the Arctic circle."

He puts every ounce of his anger, his resentment, his outrage into the glare he shoots him, communicating very clearly that his method of dealing with any infractions will be similar to what he's experienced today, and he quailed under his eyes, looking away with a hastily aborted whimper.

"Considering Osborn has granted me executive permission to kick anyone off out of this program," you pipe up, and Norman definitely doesn't jump, "You can rest assured, Chambers, that Mr. Norman’s method of 'dealing with it’ will be unexpected, quick, and..." a fond smile plays across your lips, "Decidedly brutal. Do keep in mind that I currently lay claim to the record of the fastest paperwork submission, a record I have been itching to break for quite some time."

Norman can't help his fond smile. "Fucking paperwork ninja."

After a moment, your expression turned bland, but Norman can read love loud and clear in the crinkles around your eyes, in the quirk of your mouth. "Mr. Osborn, would you perhaps like to demonstrate how dangerous it is to let chemicals react to each other if you don’t know what they are?" you asked, and Norman shoots to attention with a snappy, mocking salute.

"Yes!" he barked, and he heard you snort softly in amusement as Norman turns to the new interns, staring at him warily, fear in their eyes, and begins enthusing over the different experiences Osborn Co. offered, and he's secretly relieved when they slowly relax, one by one, caution fading at Norman's exuberance, realizing his wrath was only aimed at Chambers and not at them as a collective group.

Let us just say… Chambers would never try to flirt with you or anyone ever again…

[siriusmydeer]

breakup with your girlfriend, i’m bored.

james potter x fem!reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, james potter x lily evans

summary: james’ journey onto finding love; just not with you.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: unrequited love, angst, swearing, crying, mentions of food, self doubt/insecurity, pining, mentions of murder, mentions of marriage and kids

— 0:00

‘You got me some type of way

Ain't used to feelin' this way

I do not know what to say

“so, mates, i think m’finally getting somewhere with lils!” the tone of excitement thickly lacing the bespectacled boys words. “m’sure of it.” he continued, a bit of confusion in his words but still the same amount of excitement as before.

his brows were furrowed and he picked at the skin of his fingernails trying to relieve himself, further wringing his hands a few times before looking at his friends for their input.

“m’so— m’so happy for you, prongs. really, that’s great.” your voice faltering as you continued to speak, trying to scoundrel up a tone of excitement that would’ve played off well enough. instead all you were feeling stone cold truth of dejection.

But I know I shouldn't think about it

Took one fuckin' look at your face

Now I wanna know how you taste

Usually don't give it away

But you know I'm out here thinkin' 'bout it’

a fake smile plastered your face, trying to push back the tears that wanted to desperately prick at your eyes. you tried to further block them from escaping your waterline as you hear the boy jabber close to every single day about the red head he had been continuously fawning over.

the day went subsequently normal; potions, transfiguration, break period, plan pranks and dinner. but unfortunately for you, you didn’t have the privilege to share a messy dormitory with the four other boys leaving their conversations and discussions open about you and more your feelings.

“d’you think y/n was a bit off today?” peter asked abruptly from the place he sat on the oak wood floor, catching the attention of the three other boys who were seated on their separate twin beds. furthering to retain all memories of you from that day attempting to identify where you might’ve seemed ‘off.’

‘Then I realize she's right there

And I'm at home like, "Damn, this ain't fair"

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

“maybe a lunch a bit, she looked a little melancholy, i guess.” sirius answered this time, recalling the memory of you speaking in a very disconsolate tone. “y’think it’s anything major, or just stress?” he questioned again, beginning to worry about his close friend.

“dunno, i don’t think so.” the lycanthrope added to the conversation. he recalled james’ new confession about the red headed girl, and your extremely unhappy expressions following; of course noticing a bit at the time when it was occurring but just assuming you had a bad day with evan rosier pestering you for a date.

maybe... maybe she— but they’re best friends? his thoughts were extremely close to scrambled, remus was an observer, he was clever and sharp-witted; but this, he couldn’t figure out.

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right

“oi, y/n!” a deep voice called in the distance, putting your light jog to a stop in the middle of the courtyard leaving you to stand in the grass. swiftly turning around you were met with the taller fawn-haired boy, who looked tremendously determined.

“i’ve, uh, ‘ve got to ask you something, and it may seem foolish, but i think i just still ask you.” his voice hurried like his panting breaths from running across the school to find you, asking around the library and your dorm mates.

“yeah, moons, sure, anything.” affirming the boy who looked a bit confused, and worried but you didn’t know if it was for his sake or yours.

he grabbed your wrist in his palm pulling you on the prickly grass over to someone more private like to speak with you. “d’you— d’you like prongs? more than friendly...” the boy sputtered, further acknowledging your blown eyes like someone had just committed murder in-front of you.

But I don't care

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored’

“i— uhm, well, that’s a bit— why d’you think— remus, what the fuck!” your words taking a halt every few seconds with a recurrent sputter trying to figure out where the question had even came from, or how he even knew.

“i saw— i saw the way you acted at lunch the other day. i jus’ wanted to know if it’s true.” he asserted, no present lingering touches of judgement in his tone.

remus knew what it was like to be judged, so whenever you had the urge to jabber out all of your problems he was the boy you had always ran too first. knowingly, or not. but he felt particularly disappointed in himself that you hadn’t trusted him with this potential secret.

‘This shit always happen to me (Yeah)

Why can't we just play for keeps?

Practically on my knees

“yeah— i do.” you admitted with a breath, guilt taking a pang at your heart. and anger taking a swig at your brain; how could you be so fucking stupid.

“remus, but you can’t— you can’t tell him, or anything.” your tone was hushed, and only meant for remus’ ears. feeling a tinge of embarrassment warm onto your cheeks, knowing someone you loved clearly didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

“i swear, i won’t. but m’here for you, i don’t want you feeling like you can’t tell me anything.” his words soft, and his tone genuine. why couldn’t you have fallen for someone like him? but instead, you crush on someone who was in love with someone else.

But I know I shouldn't think about it

You know what you're doin' to me

You're singin' my songs in the streets, yeah, yeah

Actin' all innocent, please

“c’mon, y/n.” he beckoned you to follow him, resting his arm on the curvature of your shoulder feeling his side press against your smaller one and guiding you to transfiguration with him.

why? why did you have to be so damn foolish? because it was her, with her beautiful red locks, her perfect maroon lipstick, her exceedingly amazing grades, her ability to be silly for a moment and loosen up. why couldn’t you be her? why couldn’t you have what she has.

it’s because it’s simple; you weren’t lily evans and you were never going to be.

When I know you out here thinkin' 'bout it

Then you realize she's right there

And you're at home like, "Damn, she can't compare"’

“guys! guys! she said yes!” james announced whilst scuttling across the mahogany floor of the common room. his actions at a halt flopping his body over the scarlet-red couch and a grin on his lips.

“who said what?” sirius muttered, glancing up from the map for a moment before looking back down in ascertainment.

“lily-pad! i asked her on a date and she was like, ‘yeah, fine, potter. but if you’re late i’ll kill you.’ just like that!” he pretended to play out the conversation for a moment, his thrilled movements and inflection almost animated from how happy he felt.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right’

remus briefly glanced at you, concern swirling in his hazel irises, meanwhile, your eyes widened for a moment. you plastered yet another fake grin onto your lips, about to congratulate your crush on winning a date with his all time infatuation.

“prongs! oh my merlin, that’s amazing, i’m so happy for you!” putting on the best impression of exhilaration for your best friend, the act only remus could piece together and break apart.

“no way! prongs, mate, i knew you could do it!” sirius spoke, his tone fein for his best friend who had been in a pinning coma for the last few years.

‘But I don't care

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend’

the boys continued to congratulate the boy, remus only giving him a nod and a smile. the marauders paying no mind to it and instead james merrily talking about the red head; his red head.

you weren’t his, and you never would be.

yet another realization struck you, the urge and need to move on present in your nervous system almost begging you to find someone else and to hide away from all the pain that could swallow you whole.

‘With your girlfriend

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend

You could say I'm hatin' if you want to

But I only hate on her 'cause I want you’

you were now sat on the smooth ivory bedding that perfectly hugged your bed, remus’ body right beside yours. except you weren’t comfortable, you wanted to cry a valley of tears that could’ve lasted a life time.

“why is it her? why couldn’t he want me, am i not enough?” you spoke through broken sobs, feeling remus’ agile hands rub up and down the column of your back.

“you’re enough, y/n/n. he’s a bloody git for not seeing that.” remus spoke, sponging a kiss on your hairline. he felt the wet tears graze his shoulder, slightly contracting at the cold feeling but paying no mind to them as he comforted you.

‘Say I'm trippin' if you feel like

But you without me ain't right

You could call me crazy 'cause I want you

And I never even ever fuckin' met you

Say I'm trippin' and it ain't right

But you without me ain't nice’

“m’the bloody git! i fell in love with m’best friend who’s in love with someone else! next thing you know i’m accidentally setting dumbledores beard on fire, and accidentally spawning voldemort for christ’s sake!” your words mumbled and obstruct from the tears that had over come you.

you whipped your face free from tears for a moment, basically scrubbing the black colour of your mascara down your cheeks. “you’re not alone, you know? m’right here.” his tone, yet again, sincere.

you felt undeserving of his coddling, that your messy puppy love was so little compared to his issues. “i can tell your belittling your problems right now, you’re aloud to be upset.” he whispered, trying to assure you all he could, whilst disrupting you from your senile thoughts.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right

But I don't care’

“merlin, she’s fantastic.” the brunette finished his third speech of the day on how ‘amazing’ lily is. yeah as if him pining after her wasnt enough, then what the hell was this?

the devil poking at you for cheating on your herbology test in first year, the time you accidentally tripped peter when rushing to potions, maybe it was the time you put belching power in sirius’ drink everyday for a week because he said you had a flat arse?

what the hell did you do to deserve this incessant torture that had been inflicted upon you. we’re you being dramatic? probably. but the boy you were quite literally in love with could not stop talking about how he wanted to ask another female to be with him, companionship, life, marriage, children. he wanted everything with her.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, baby, girlfriend

With your girlfriend’

but then again it was also extremely simple.

he just simply didn’t want you.

he wanted lily fucking evans.

‘With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend

With your girlfriend’

taglist: @fathermarty @kittykylax @terr0rizer @aspiringsloth20 @maddoxsmythologicalmind @amourtentiaa @dear-luna @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

if your username is crossed out that means you gave me the wrong username or your settings for public display tags are off!

[starks-hero]

Onward and Upward

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Request: If it’s okay for a request for Tom x reader where they go to the Onward premiere and get very emotional during the movie, just funny and fluffy

Summary: You accompany Tom to the premiere of his new movie. But no one told you it was going to be so damn emotional.

Warnings: fluff, Onward Spoilers (?)

Word count: 1,361

You smiled as the camera's flashed, trying your best not to squint as the persistent blinding light filled your vision. Tom stood by your side, his arm around your waist, holding you close. He turned to you, offering a bright, reassuring smile. You were both well used to the premiere drill at this point. You would both smile, allow the press to take as many photos and ask as many questions as they saw fit, enjoy the movie and then, with any luck, make it home for a quiet night of celebration.

Tom leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek and the paparazzi lapped it up. More cameras snapped as people called both your names, desperate for a decent photo.

After a few minutes of posing and endless smiling, you were given the go-ahead to move on. Tom's hand slid into yours as you turned your back to the flashing lights and moved on down the red carpet.

The cameras were left behind, but next up was the rapid fire interviews. Cameramen and presenters from every channel imaginable were lined up, eagerly waiting to pull an actor aside and quiz them about the movie and sometimes, things that were considered a little more private.

You leaned in closer to Tom, whispering in his ear in favour of yelling over all the other merging voices. “I'll see you inside,” you smiled. The interviews really only focused on the movie stars and besides, you didn't fancy getting caught with a persistent interviewer asking questions about your love life. “Knock 'em dead.”

Tom chuckled, leaning in and kissing you gently, despite the very public setting, dozen of cameras and yelling fans and interviewers. “For luck,” he teased.

Smacking his shoulder playfully, you pushed him towards the waiting crowd.

You continued down the carpet and into the theatre, meeting Harrison, Harry, Paddy and Sam, all looking exceedingly dashing in their suits. You all made your way through the well-dressed crowds to the screening room, finding your seats in the reserved front row.

Within the next ten to fifteen minutes, the stars, directors, screenwriters and producers began to flood in, Tom among them. He smiled when he spotted you, his best friend and his brothers. He excused himself from his castmates and rushed over, kissing your cheek and taking his own seat between you and Haz.

Despite his cheerful exterior, you couldn't help but notice his bouncing leg and how he continued to pull his lip between his teeth.

“Hey.” You gently placed your hand over Tom's, he glanced up to meet your reassuring smile. “It's going to be great. Everyone's going to love it.”

It was common for Tom to get anxious before a premiere, though he was exceptionally good at hiding it. He doubted himself, his work, his acting ability. And you hated to see him doubt himself after all the hard work he poured into the project.

Tom smiled, intertwining your fingers and relaxing into his chair. You always put him at ease, always knew what he needed to hear.

“Thank you, darling.” Just as Tom whispered his thanks, the theatre darkened and the crowd quietened. You smiled in excitement as Tom exhaled slowly.

He'd put so much work into this movie, and you could tell he was proud of it and wanted people to enjoy it. It was only his second shot at voice acting, something he'd been incredibly anxious about. But the calming sensation of your thumb tracing the back of his hand was doing a wondrous job at calming his nerves.

As the narrators' voice flowed through the speakers and the bright animation lit up the screen you leaned over to whisper in Tom's ear.

“I'm not going to cry at this, am I?”

Tom hesitated slightly. “Nah.” He shook his head. “It's not that sad.”

Tom may have been a talented actor, but he couldn't tell a convincing lie to save his life.

Deciding to not question any further, you sat back as the opening titles filled the screen.

‘Onward’.

An hour later and you were weeping in your seat, with a good twenty minutes still left on the movie. You wiped at your eyes, trying to keep your crying to a minimum as to not disturb anyone.

You cursed the amazing screenwriting and Tom's incredible acting. You were amazed how powerful his performance was, despite his face being hidden behind the animated character of Ian, his emotions seeped into every word.

As Ian began to cross off all the things he never got to do with his dad and the music swelled, you bit back an audible whimper. You never imagined you'd be crying over an animated elf with unresolved daddy issues. Children's movies weren't supposed to be this emotional!

A gentle tap on your shoulder caught your attention and you pulled your eyes away from the screen. Tom was watching you with a sympathetic smile.

Opening up his arm he motioned for you to join him in his seat. That was the great thing about premiere screenings, the VIP seats were huge.

“Come here, it's okay,” he whispered as you joined him in his own seat. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your head. “If it's any consolation, I swear I don't die at the end.”

You giggled quietly, drying your eyes as Tom's hand ran down your side. Everyone else was far too infatuated with the movie to notice the small moment you'd shared.

You'd managed to stop your tears by the movie's conclusion, and as the credits began to roll, the theatre erupted in applause.

You turned to Tom with a proud smile only to see that he was now the one with tear-stained cheeks.

“What happened to it not being that sad?” you asked.

Tom simple chuckled, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeves and muttering a fond ‘shut up’ under his breath.

As Tom stood, he was met by a pair of arms wrapping around his middle as Paddy tackled him with a hug. The youngest Holland was quickly followed by the twins and Tom greeted them both with open arms. They were all a little teary-eyed.

You knew if there was one similarity between Tom and his character, it was his unconditional love for his brothers.

The crowd continued to cheer and whistle as Tom pulled away from the boys, pecked you on the lips and then made his way onto the small stage that had been set up below the screen for him and his costars to give some final words of appreciation and thanks.

Once the speeches and small talk were over, you and Tom, hand in hand, made your way back to the car waiting for you outside. Luckily most of the paparazzi had called it a night and cleared off, so you both got to enjoy the somewhat normal peace and quiet.

The moment after you both clambered into the car and muttered the address to the driver, Tom's lips were on yours. You were surprised, but you certainly weren't complaining. He pulled away slightly. “Thank you.”

“For what, Tommy?”

“Everything,” he replied, kissing you again. “For being so supportive.” Kiss. “No matter how long I'm away filming.” Kiss. “For always seeing the best in me.” Kiss. “All of it.”

You simply shrugged, running a hand along his jaw. “I'm just returning the favour.”

He leaned in to capture your lips again, and just as his hand began to venture down your body, you both realised the back of a taxi probably wasn't the best place to start something you couldn't finish then and there. You were both only twenty minutes from home anyways, you were sure you could both wait that long.

“So,” Tom pulled back but kept his hand locked with yours. “What was your favourite part?”

“Barley,” you said nonchalantly.

You smirked at Tom's mock expression of offence.

“The other brother was pretty fine-looking too.”

“Y/N, it was an animated movie,” Tom stressed with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Still,” you shrugged, leaning into Tom's side. “He had a pretty nice voice.”

[a-libra-writes]

Heey, welcome back and congrats on 700 followers! 😘 I'd like to request ❣😎😆 for my boy Ramsay 😛 I know I always request him (and seems like nobody else does, I'm not surprised tho, also I swear I'm actually a normal person 😅)but I really like your interpretation of him because it's close to my own headcanons about how would he behave with someone he actually loves lol 😄 (also, choosing only 3 prompts is soo hard ngl 😂)

hiya!! I remember you! :3  Im glad you request Ramsay so much; even if he’s terrifying, he’s fun to write... and this is all fictional so we can have fun hahaha. & you can always request more prompts after this!

Ramsay Bolton

❣️ What makes them blush/gets their heart pounding?

There are many things he fixates on once he finally has his significant other. One thing that seems to get him without fail is physical closeness. Even if it’s as simple as sitting closer to him and taking his hand, or holding his face to keep him still, he’ll freeze for just a moment. He always expects you to back away and recoil at any second, so often he’ll hold you tighter to keep you with him. Another thing he likes is when he unexpectedly makes you laugh.

😎 How do they impress their s/o?

His ways of impressing you aren’t... typical, but there’s an almost boyish earnestness in them. The hunting isn’t so bad - he knows what meat you like, he finds it, kills it, brings you back a trophy and dinner. You’re both pleased, even you have to remind him now and again to wash the blood off. He likes showing you his archery skills, which are impressive, and that’s when that strange, almost childish look of pride comes on his face. The problems come when he does things he thinks you’ll appreciate... dealing with a family member you don’t like, a servant who maybe stole a ring, a lord who supposedly acted inappropriately.

😆 How do they make their s/o laugh?

His sense of humor is exceedingly morbid and not for polite company, to say the least. It usually unsettles you, but once in a while, he’ll catch you in a dark mood or he insults someone you truly hate. That’s when you can’t stop yourself from snorting or giggling, and those chilling blue eyes just light up. 

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

House Calls (2/2 )

Hannibal (TV)

This part took much longer than the first. The muse eluded me for quite some time but it has finally returned! And the fact that this beautiful gifset from the show is making the rounds again certainly helped. ❤❤ Shoutout to @mongooseblues for inspiration for and assistance with this fic! A small note for those that read part 1, I'm retconning the fact that Hannibal had a digital thermometer that beeps. He would definitely have a mercury one.

Read part 1 here. (Recommended, it is referenced quite a few times in part 2)

Read my other works here (works best on desktop) (Also on AO3)

My asks are always open for prompts!

For the second time in one week, Will Graham was awoken by the phone ringing. Granted, a week ago it had woken him because it rang at an unusually early hour. This time it woke him because he was still getting over the godawful bug he'd caught, and he was going to bed earlier and sleeping in later. 

He fumbled for the device and picked it up with a groggy " H'llo?"

"Will, it's Hannibal." The doctor paused to clear his throat roughly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have a favor to ask of you, if you're up to it." There was a strange noise on the other end of the line, a kind of shuffling noise-- or perhaps a sniffle?

"Sure," Will said with a yawn and a sniffle of his own, rubbing his eyes. "I've been feeling pretty good since yesterday. I can help with whatever you need."

"That's very promising. As to the favor...  It appears I've left my medical bag at my office." Here he had to stop to clear his throat again and cough before he continued. "I was wondering if you would be able to collect it for me and bring it to my home. I'm… well, it seems I've caught your illness and I don't believe it would be wise for me to leave the house."

By this time, Will had slid to sit on the edge of the bed as he listened, stifling further yawns. The damn flu still had him feeling so unbelievably tired and groggy. 

"I'll head out right away," Will replied, rubbing his face. "And… I'm really sorry to have put you in this position, Dr. Leh--Hannibal. I never meant to get you sick."

"Occupational hazard, and I don't regret any of my actions concerning your care. But I appreciate your assistance in getting my bag. I will see you soon I hope."

"See you soon." Will ended the call with a small sigh. Now he felt guilty *and* tired. He was almost glad there was something he could do for the doctor to help assuage his own conscience. 

Less than an hour later, Will arrived at Hannibal's stately house. It had been no problem to retrieve the black leather medical bag from Hannibal's office. Due to the late hour of their therapy sessions, Will always arrived after the office front entrance was locked, so he knew the code to the building’s back door. The bag had been hidden behind a table leg and it was easy to see how Hannibal had overlooked it  Now it was simply a matter of delivering it.

 Already a bit overwhelmed to be approaching such a house, Will hesitated after mounting the porch steps. Hannibal hadn't told him what to do when he arrived. If the doctor was sleeping he didn't want to rouse him out of bed, but he didn't want to just walk in either. However, the safest option seemed to be to bite the bullet and knock. As he raised his hand to do so though, he realized the door was slightly ajar. A man like Dr. Lecter wouldn't accidentally leave a door open, no matter how ill he was. It stood to reason, then, that it had been left open for him. With more than a little trepidation, Will pushed the door open and stepped in.

The house was dim and still, and just as stately and pristine as everything else of Hannibal's. Will heard the sound of a harpsichord from somewhere inside. Hannibal was awake, then. At least that was something. 

Will followed the sounds of the music, which led him into the cavernous kitchen. The stainless steel appliances were silent and eerie without Hannibal's bustling presence giving them life. The music was louder now, seemingly coming from the next room, and echoing slightly against the polished surfaces. A strange sixth sense kept Will from calling out that he had arrived, as if there was a spell on the house that didn't want to be broken. Will paused before he approached the corner that turned into the next room. As he did, the music stopped abruptly, and instead a different noise punctuated the air:

"HrrrrRRISHyuu! ErrrrRREISH-shooo! ISSSHH-chuhh! Hh'rrrsshh'CHHOOF!" 

It was of course Hannibal who had sneezed. Logically Will knew this was to be expected when a person was sick. Yet it seemed so strange to hear such a mundane noise from such an extraordinary person. It was as if he'd accidentally witnessed something exceedingly private. 

Still, the sneezing had broken the spell. The doctor said something in Lithuanian that sounded suspiciously like swearing, then began to blow his nose. As he did this, Will retreated several steps and reentered the kitchen more noisily:

"Dr. Lecter! I'm here! I've got your bag!"

"I'm in the study," came the congested reply, annexed by a chesty cough.

Will found the man where he said, seated in front of the instrument as he tended to his nose. Yet still, the doctor tried to smile warmly upon seeing him, though his shoulders had a limp sag to them, and he shivered as he sniffled into his handkerchief. He was wearing a fine blue silk robe with a plain white tee shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, neat but still a far cry from his usual suits. His hair was combed but lacked the crisp, styled look it usually had, hanging more naturally around his face. His eyes were fever-bright, and his cheeks were flushed from the same. He looked overall rundown and quite unwell. 

Will handed him the black leather bag right away. Hannibal took it, looking grateful. 

"Thank you so much for coming, Will. I didn't know who else to call." His voice was husky and thick, more than hinting at a miserable sore throat. 

"No problem. But what are you doing out here? I thought the reason I fetched this was because you were too sick to get out of bed."

"I'm really not very ill. I was merely trying to avoid getting anyone else ill by my going out. But you've already had this illness, so you are safe from infection, which is why I thought to call you."

"That's logical I suppose," said Will wryly. "You look pretty sick to me, though."

"I assure you I'm fie- fine…. '' Hannibal quickly disappeared behind the handkerchief again, his breath hitching to sneeze. His shoulders leapt violently several times, and the motion made his hair fall across his forehead. However, any other sneeze side effects were thoroughly stifled into silence. After finishing the fit, Hannibal wiped his nose and flipped his hair back again with a toss of his head. Noting how familiar the doctor seemed to be with the gesture, Will could only guess at the number of sneezing fits he had had prior to this one. 

Seeing the poor man’s sinuses take such abuse from the forceful stifles though made Will's own still-congested sinuses start dripping in sympathy. He hastily pulled out a tissue and wiped his nose.

"Ah, but you are still ill yourself. Where are my manners? I'll make us both tea." Hannibal quickly stood, but staggered before he could take a step, a hand going to his temple. 

"Dr. Lecter--!" Will was at his side in a moment to steady him, one hand on the doctor's arm and the other at his back, just as Hannibal had steadied him earlier in the week. Will was prepared to do whatever was needed to keep Hannibal upright, though his swaying made Will more than a little nervous, for Hannibal was much taller than he, and would more than likely take them both down if he fell. 

Thankfully, the doctor quickly righted himself, pulling away from Will's grasp. "Forgive me, I stood up too quickly." Dr. Lecter cleared his throat harshly, rubbing a palm across his eyes. 

"Are you sure you--"

"I'm fine, Will. Now, tea." He strode away to the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation, as was his talent. 

Will held his tongue for the time being and silently followed, sitting at the kitchen island while Hannibal puttered around making tea. The silence was companionable, only broken by the doctor's soft sniffles and coughs. At one point though, the doctor was overcome with a nasty coughing fit that bent him over at the waist as he grasped the countertop for balance. When the barking coughs subsided and he could breathe relatively normally once more, he flipped his hair back into place yet again and proceeded with what he was doing as if nothing had happened. Will noted all of this without comment. 

Once the tea was poured, Hannibal seated himself beside Will, and they sipped together in continued silence. Will found it odd, though not unpleasant, to be sitting next to Hannibal without speaking, for their usual interactions dictated that conversation was necessary. Will found the quiet enjoyable. Yet Hannibal could not relax, for he was forced to tend to another harsh bout of coughing, turned away from Will and muffled into his elbow. His lungs sounded as if they were trying to tear their way out of his chest. Will could only look on in concern, and it was several long moments before he quieted. 

"My apologies, Will," the doctor rasped as soon as he was able, the exertion having turned his face an even deeper shade of red.

"You don’t need to apologize. But you sound sick. And you look like you're running a fever. You should be in bed."

"I rest better down here with my music and my cooking. I couldn't lie in bed all day."

"I don't think you should do any cooking. You're shaking."

The doctor quickly hid his hands, which were indeed trembling with chills. "Even so. I find it hard to rest in bed during the day. I have trouble getting settled. It's too… quiet I suppose." He sniffled wetly, and was forced to dab at his nose with his handkerchief.

"Hmm." Will thought for a moment, studying his own hands, currently wrapped around his mug. "I suppose I have the same problem. And it's worse when you're not feeling well. But you helped alleviate that for me when I was sick." Will met the doctor's eyes, reddening slightly. "You should lie down after we're done with tea… and if you want, I'll stay with you for a while... If you think it'll help, I mean."

Hannibal regarded him in his penetrating way. "Are you that worried about my health, Will?"

"You're sick, Dr. Leh-- Hannibal. And I know how bad this flu is. I don't want to see you get worse."

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, aside from another moist sniffle. "That is very kind of you to offer. I suppose you are right. Some rest would perhaps do me good."

Will nodded. "When we're finished, I'll stay here and do these dishes while you go get settled. I'll come see you as soon as I'm done. But let me know if there's anything else you need."

Hannibal gave a tiny smile. "Thank you, Will." With that, he obediently swallowed the last few gulps of tea and stood, moving toward the back of the house.

"Hannibal?"

The doctor turned.

"You don't… have to keep pretending you're fine. If you are pretending, I mean. I know how badly you're probably feeling better than anyone. You don't need to fake anything for my sake."

Will watched as Hannibal's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly--a thin crack in the veneer. The sick man gave the barest of nods, then proceeded on to what Will assumed was his bedroom. 

Will felt quite out of his element in more ways than one as he cleaned the dishes from their tea. Having no idea where anything went, he left it all out on a towel to dry. Once the kitchen was as clean as he could make it, he steeled himself to go check on his therapist.

The master bedroom was as luxurious as the rest of the house, and Will did his best not to gawk or make comparisons between this and his own tiny house. Hannibal had hung up his robe and was huddled in bed. He wasn't fully lying down, but was propped up against a stack of pillows, his breathing noticeably thick and raspy in the silent room. As Will expected, lying down evidently made the doctor feel the full impact of his symptoms (or perhaps he was simply done pretending). Hearing Will enter, he turned his head, lethargically opening heavy-lidded eyes. Against the cream sheets, the contrast between his pallor and fever flush was even more striking.

"It seems I'm more unwell than I thought," Hannibal murmured with a cough. "This is why I wanted to avoid lying down."

Will made a sympathetic sound. "That means you *need* to be lying down then. Have you taken your temperature recently? If not, we should."

Hannibal glanced at the medical bag he'd brought up with him. "The only thermometer I own is in there, so I have been unable to."

"A doctor that doesn't own a thermometer?" Will chuckled, moving to the bag. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"I do own one. I've never seen the need to own two."

Will deigned not to reply as he rummaged through the bag, quickly finding what he needed. He shook down the mercury as he returned to Hannibal's side. Hannibal held out his hand to take it, then shakily inserted it under his tongue. He leaned back to stare at the ceiling while Will stared at the floor, hands in his pockets.

Will waited what felt like an awkwardly long time before he finally shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "How long does it take to get a reading? I've never--"

Hannibal held up a hand and waited a bit longer, then removed the device from his mouth, glanced at it, and handed it to Will without comment.

Seeing the reading, Will gave a low whistle. 104.1… that's high, Hannibal."

"My body temperature is always above average. This is more pronounced when I'm ill." 

"Do you have some medicine? You should probably take something. Or do you want a cool rag?"

"I have just taken medication." The doctor gestured to his nightstand with a thick sniffle where there was a small collection of unmarked pill bottles. "And there's no need for cooling methods. A fever is a natural physiological response to infection. Nothing to be alarmed about." He swiped at his nose with his handkerchief, stifling a cough.

Will was skeptical, but before he could respond, Hannibal jerked forward at the waist, pressing the handkerchief to his face again:

"Gghnxt! Kppshht!" 

The expression on the doctor’s face indicated that he could have (and maybe should have) kept sneezing, but he harshly pinched his nose with a wet squelch and blew, forcing the tickle to subside. 

Will sighed and shook his head, then made a face upon noticing the state of the handkerchief Hannibal was using.

"That handkerchief is...sodden. It's practically dripping. I'll get you a fresh one. Where do you keep them?"

"I only have 3 others and they are in worse shape than this one. I've rather been running through them."

Will chuckled. "I can't imagine why." He rummaged through his pockets, finally producing a nearly full, cellophane-wrapped travel pack of Kleenex which he handed to the doctor.

Hannibal made a face. "I despise using these." 

"I'm not sure you have an option right now. These have to be better than your soaking wet cloth ones."

"Debatable," Hannibal muttered. Still, he shook one out and gingerly brought it to his face. He gave several thick, gurgling blows, productive to the point of starting to disintegrate the tissue. Seeing this, Hannibal made another face.

"You really need to use 2 or 3 of those at a time," Will said, trying not to laugh. "But let me get you a trash can."

"There is one in the master bathroom," Hannibal croaked, looking peeved and sounding more congested than ever. 

Will quickly fetched the bin while Hannibal tried again to blow his nose, using 4 Kleenex this time. The 2nd round of blowing was equally productive. When he was finished, Will held the bin out and Hannibal tossed the tissues in as if he were tossing in a dead rat. 

"This is most unsanitary Will," Hannibal muttered with a slushy sniffle, yet still pulling out more to continue wiping his streaming nostrils.

Will only chuckled. Hannibal was breathing slightly easier now, but his eyes were heavier than ever. 

"You should sleep, Dr--Hannibal. You don't have to stay awake for my sake. I'll be here when you wake up."

The doctor nodded, obediently closing his eyes with a sigh. 

Will didn't expect such a quick response, and for a moment he watched the doctor to ensure he was truly going to sleep. When it appeared he was, Will perched on a nearby chair, unsure what else to do. It seemed he was to be staying with Hannibal in the most literal sense, for he wasn’t about to go wandering around this house by himself.

Half an hour passed, the minutes dragging slowly. The doctor lay perfectly still the entire time, but Will knew he wasn't sleeping. His frame was too alert. Meanwhile Will, with nothing to do except scroll through his phone and listen to Hannibal's deep breathing, was struggling to stay awake and wishing he too had a bed. Killing time was only making him more groggy, and his head was beginning to ache. 

Getting fed up with it, Will went with his instincts and tried something else. Swallowing a yawn and rubbing his eyes, he navigated to the e-reader app on his phone and pulled up one of his favorite novels. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud: "The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten…."

As soon as there was another sound in the room, Hannibal began to visibly relax, angling his face toward Will even as he got more comfortable in the bed, though his eyes never opened. Slowly, slowly he sank deeper into the pillows as Will read on. Will sensed he was trying to follow the story, but it seemed the doctor's fatigue was overwhelming, especially since Will was trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. Within another 30 minutes, Hannibal's hand had gone limp around the Kleenex he was holding as he softly snored, sleeping at last. 

Will finished the chapter he was on, just to be sure the sick man wouldn't wake again, before he finally closed the book. His mouth was very dry and he needed a glass of water. Before he left the room though, he turned on the white noise machine he'd noted near the bed (he had a similar one in his own room), hoping some kind of continued noise would help Hannibal sleep longer. Will then tiptoed to the kitchen, pouring himself a huge glass of water right away. As he sat and drank it, he thought about what else he should do, for he didn't want to just continue sitting around. 

"What do you do for someone when they're sick?" he murmured to himself. Another moment later, he answered himself: "Make them soup, I guess." 

Hannibal's soup had been wonderful, but Will was no chef. He could prepare many basic things, but spices and seasonings, and thus soups, eluded him. He cringed at the thought of preparing something from scratch for a culinary master like Dr. Lecter. 

However, another idea occurred to him, and he smiled to himself as he considered it. It might work, but he would need to run an errand. He stood right away and strode to the front door, wanting to go and be back as quickly as possible. He only hoped Hannibal would sleep the whole time he was gone, for Will had promised to be there when he woke, and he intended to keep that promise.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hannibal didn't wake until many hours later, and Will was indeed at his side when he did. It was Hannibal's treacherous nose that did it. Will had noted subtle signs of him nearing consciousness again for a while, but the final straw was an uncontainable volley of sneezes:

"HRRIIZZSHH-uh! HhURRSHH-shuh! hrrRIIIZZSHHD! Hhh-KKRRCHHSSHHooo!"

The sighed exhale that followed bordered on a groan as that doctor shakily grabbed the tissues at his side and tended to his cherry-red nose yet again with several gurgling blows. Will had been at his side from the first sound, looking for any way to be useful. Eventually Hannibal met his gaze, taking a moment to survey the younger man. 

"You look tired, Will."

Will huffed a cheerless laugh. "You haven't doctored me enough yet this week?"

"A physician's nature doesn't change just because he's ill," Hannibal sniffled. "And you've also been ill. I don't want you to overtax yourself on my account."

"I'm fine. But you look tired too. How are you feeling?" 

Hannibal didn't reply immediately, seemingly taking inventory. A shaky breath caused him to cough harshly before he could speak, and Will winced in sympathy. 

"I feel thoroughly disgusting. And ill," Hannibal mumbled through congested-sounding consonants. "My head and chest feel achingly thick. Heavy." He put his own wrist to his forehead for a moment. "Feverish." 

"Here, you need to drink." Will handed the doctor a tall glass of ice water. Hannibal took it and drank it down with a grateful look, but the chill from the ice immediately caused him to cough into his fist yet again.

Will watched all of this, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm still sorry I got you sick, Hannibal. I hate seeing you like this."

Though Hannibal's eyes shone with fever, he eyed Will keenly. "This is not your fault. Illness is an expected part of the human experience. You must not blame yourself." It occurred to Will that congestion was not the only thing making Hannibal more difficult to understand--his Lithuanian accent was also far more pronounced than usual.

"I still feel terrible."

The doctor quirked an eyebrow at him, looking faintly amused. "What a coincidence. As I've just told you, so do I."

Will couldn't think how to respond, so they merely shared a wry smile. Then, without warning, Hannibal's torso whipped forward, and he exploded into another pair of thick, spraying sneezes:

"Hhht-KNNXT! hhnnxxt-CHUUHG!" Evidently his ability to stifle was weakening as his symptoms worsened. The sick doctor stayed hunched forward, blowing and wiping his raw nose for the hundredth time, looking utterly miserable as he shook the last few Kleenex from the package. 

"At least that's something I can help you with," Will said, nodding at the empty wrapper. He bent down and came back up with 2 new boxes of tissues. He opened one and handed it over. Hannibal took it reluctantly.

  "Those are the best ones you can get. They should be almost like real cloth."

"I rather doubt that," Hannibal muttered. "But I thank you nonetheless. They are sorely needed." 

"And I plan to take your cloth ones home and wash them and bring them back tomorrow. Including the one I still have. So you'll only have to deal with these for a bit longer," Will said with a little grin.

The doctor's eyes lit up in pleasure. "I would be most grateful for that."

"Is there anything else you'd like? Either now or tomorrow?"

Hannibal again coughed into his first before he spoke, sounding thoroughly phlegmy. "I should likely take some food. I'm feeling weaker than I ought to."

It was Will's turn to light up. "There's another coincidence… I have food ready for you. Some soup and stuff."

"I thought I smelled something simmering, even through this dreadful congestion. That explains why I'm suddenly hungry," Hannibal said with a thick sniffle, leaning back into his pillows. "Thank you for thinking of it. Though I would hardly call your predicting my needs a coincidence, but rather proof of your capabilities as a caretaker. Just something to think on.” The doctor gave him a pointed look even as he sniffled again. 

Will was now embarrassed and quickly moved to the doorway. "I'll go bring some for you now."

Hannibal let the subject drop and nodded weakly, closing his eyes as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Will hurried to the kitchen and ladled a bowl of chicken soup from the pot warming on the stove. He had the ingredients for grilled cheese ready as well, and a hot griddle waiting, so it was only a matter of minutes before he had a fresh, hot sandwich to accompany the soup. As a final touch, he peeled an orange and placed it on the plate with the sandwich, then grabbed the bottle of soda he'd bought, and transported it all to the sick room on a large tray.

Hannibal was clearly a bit taken aback upon seeing it all. "This is quite the spread, Will," he croaked. "Did you make all of this?"

"Define 'make', Will chuckled. "I turned the stove on, yes."

"The soup isn't yours then?"

"It's Campbell's chicken noodle, fresh from the can. The genuine, original sick day food. Grilled cheese made with the finest Kraft singles of course. An orange for the Vitamin C, no seeds. For the drink, we have ginger ale, the beverage that can cure any ailment. And for dessert, if you so desire, we also have hot chocolate."

Hannibal was speechless for a moment. Then, a tiny smile began to play across his features. "This is ...really something, Will. I haven't been served a meal quite like this in a very long time. I can't even remember the last time I had a cola." 

"Only the finest. Or at least the finest I could manage on short notice."

"You bought all of this just today?"

Will nodded. "This is what I used to like when I was sick. I figured I couldn't go wrong with classic comfort foods. I'm sorry I couldn't give you something higher quality. But I hope it still helps."

"Indeed." The doctor chuckled hoarsely. "This is quite satisfactory. I'm sure it will help. Thank you once again." Without further ado, the doctor dug into his feast.

To Will's surprise, the doctor easily finished not only the orange, but the soup and the sandwich as well, and seemed to enjoy them as much as could be expected. He was most skeptical of the ginger ale, but he finished half of that as well, pronouncing it "very interesting." Will also made sure he drank plenty of water to round it all out. Finally Hannibal pushed the tray away with a contented sound.

"In a practical sense, I always knew the restorative properties of chicken soup, but it's been many years since I experienced them first-hand," Hannibal managed, after blowing his streaming nose several times. "My throat and sinuses feel significantly better. As does my headache. Perhaps we should save the hot chocolate for tomorrow however, for I am comfortably full now." 

Will thought he was going to say more, for he paused oddly. Instead the doctor's breath hitched violently:

"Gihh-chuuh! Chnnggh!..." 

Only the first two in the fit were audible. He seemingly sneezed several more times, but he stifled them into oblivion, with only the movement of his head to indicate what was happening. Watching such forceful suppression was still painful, but it heartened Will slightly to know that Hannibal was feeling well enough after some food to worry about his dignity once more.

Finally the doctor ended his fit and fell back against the pillows with a weary sigh and a weak cough, flipping the hair off of his forehead yet again.

"That looked exhausting."

"Perhaps it would have been if I weren't exhausted to begin with," Hannibal mumbled, an arm over his face.

"Then you should sleep more."

Hannibal uncovered his eyes to meet Will's. "It would be terribly rude of me to sleep again while you are here."

Then I'll get ready to go. I'll clean up all of this then head out. Let you have some peace. But like I said, I'll be back tomorrow with your handkerchiefs." Will grabbed the tray, preparing to carry it to the kitchen. 

"Will?"

Will paused, turning around.

Hannibal looked slightly imploring. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind reading a bit more before you go? I was quite enjoying the story."

Will couldn't help but smile. "It would be my pleasure."

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 5*

See ya'll i'm so sorry this took so long!!!! Warning for this chapter is SMUT, and it's....I mean, really technically Rafael? Also no I didn't go the "full" rape route, the trauma is gonna happen in the next chapter.

Oh yeah also warning this is gonna get darker before it gets happier. Be prepared.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

Part 4

Part 6

------

Rafael paced in front of the student theater, dialing your number over and over again. He could hear it ringing over the phone, but-- was that your ringtone?

He stared at the doorway to the lobby where Javi and Gabi were still standing, Gabi’s purse was lit up. She finally noticed it and picked it out of her purse. Her eyes grew wide with shock and as she looked up to see Rafael had caught her, they went wide with fear.

“We gotta go,” Gabi grabbed Javi by the sleeve. “NOW,”

Rafael ran around the side of the building as fast as he could. He may have been getting up there in age, but when he was determined he could do anything. And he was determined to find out why Gabi had your phone. He met them at the side door as they were coming out.

“WHY do you have Y/N’s phone? Is she--is she even in there?” His face grew white as he slowly put together what was happening.

“I...Um...Well--” Gabi was shit at lying.

“DON’T give me that bullshit, ‘Gabi’,,” Rafael scoffed. “I KNEW you were trouble, god dammit I KNEW it!!” He made fists like he wanted to strangle her.

“Yeah well luckily your girl isn’t as intuitive,” Gabi chuckled.

“You stupid--” He lunged for her, he didn’t care if she was a woman she had you somewhere-- she had you TAKEN somewhere.

“Whoa whoa whoa there abogado, take it easy,” Javi stepped in between the two of them to protect Gabi. “Your girl is in no danger, I promise you that,”

“...Yet,” Gabi muttered with a smile.

“I swear to GOD--” Rafael tried for her again. “If anything happens to her I’ll--”

“You'll what?” Javi was now smirking. “Please, tell me you big bad abogado, tell me what you and your snarky words are gonna do against Nevada’s men and guns?”

“Nevada?” Rafael fell backwards, he felt sick to his stomach. Nevada had you; the most dangerous, notorious, ruthless Drug Kingpin in New York had YOU.

“What does Nevada want with my fiancé?!”

“Obviously to get you to do something, cabron,” Javi pointed out.

“Do what?! I have absolutely nothing he needs!” Rafael shook his hands.

“Let’s just say you and him have a common denominator that he just discovered, and he’d like to exploit that,” Javi smirked.

“Damn Javi, turning me on with that book speak,” Gabi licked her lips seductively.

“I go to night school,” He grinned at her.

“Yeah I’m sure, to mop the hallways,” Rafael rolled his eyes, making Javi punch him in the gut.

“All you need to know is that Nevada has your girl, and if you go to ANY of your cop friends, he’ll know. And he’ll kill her, right on the spot. Trust me Nevada has zero patience cabron, I wouldn’t test him,” He warned Rafael while he was doubled over in pain.

“....And then what?” He stood up, rubbing his stomach.

“And wait for a call from him. I’m sure it’ll be soon,” Javi assured Rafael.

“Yeah after he’s done with her,” Gabi smirked.

“Oh my-- NO. NO You can’t let him--” Rafael began to panic, begging them not to let anything...traumatic happen to you.

“Don’t worry abogado, I’m sure Nevada will take good care of her,” Javi smirked as he punched Rafael in the stomach one last time, leaving him gasping for breath as they made a getaway.

-------

Meanwhile

The limo pulled up in front of the Ritz Carlton. “Rafael” got out first and then took your hand and helped you out of the car. You just stared wide and starry eyed as you walked into the lobby. You had never seen a place so beautiful, so elegant. You never had money to travel ANYWHERE-- you knew your small town in Jersey, and New York City. That’s it. And you’d never stayed in a hotel, let alone a luxurious one.

“Rafa….Wha…Why are we here?” You looked at him with starry eyes.

“....I just thought we’d celebrate the end of your semester, mi amor,” “Rafael” smiled, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“You’re too good to me,” You kissed him, and he once again took it to a whole other level. You’d never seen him this aggressive, you’d never kissed him like this. It was...off.

“Never, carino,” He shook his head as he broke the kiss and took your hand in his as he led you to the front desk.

-----

After checking in, you found yourself walking into the Penthouse Suite of the Ritz Carlton, something you’d never thought you’d be able to say.

“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful!!!” You clapped your hands together and bounced up and down as you immediately started to explore the room.

“Rafael” had to admit, he was a little amused by your excitement over things he’d gotten used to. But this was no pleasure trip, it was strictly business. He needed leverage on that abogado and you were going to give it to him. He marched over to you before you could head into the bathroom to check out the spa. He grabbed you and threw you on the bed aggressively, lust in his eyes.

“Well, somebody wants to get down to business,” You growled seductively.

“You read my mind, Carino,” “Rafael” smirked. “Ah but… first,” He walked over to the overnight bag he had brought and pulled out handcuffs, and a blindfold.

“Um, Raffi--” You nervously giggled. “We’ve um, you’ve never--”

“I thought we might try something a little different tonight, carino,” He licked his lips as he inched towards you, like a cheetah stalking its prey.

“Well, I-- I guess--” You stammered, staring at the objects in his hand. You had never been so...adventurous with anyone, let alone Rafael. “Rafael” could tell you were more than a little nervous, but he needed to get that blindfold on you. He may have Rafael’s face, but their bodies were more than a tad different. “Rafael” had tattoos on his wrists, and more than a few scars from various assentation attempts and fights. He needed to turn this up.

“Please,” He gave you his sweetest puppy dog pout eyes, before beginning to nibble on your earlobe. He had never done that before, but you were quickly learning it might be your new favorite spot. Time stopped moving, your mind turned off, all you could feel was pleasure as you felt his tongue in your ear, his teeth on the lobe.

“Whatever you want,” You sighed, not knowing what you were allowing.

“That’s exactly what I’d hoped you would say…” He growled as he tied the sash blindfold around your face, pulling it tight. You couldn’t see anything, you were completely at his mercy.

“Rafa….?” You called out to make sure he was still there, as if he would have just blindfolded you and ran out of the room.

“Yes, amante?” You heard his husky voice behind you as you felt your arms being fastened to either side of the headboard.

“Rafael I don’t know about this--” You bit your lip nervously.

“Shut up and let me work,” He barked, making you wince.

“...What?” You could swear that the voice was different from normal, something about it was more...dark.

“I mean, I thought we’d try...role playing, y’know where I’m a dominant asshole, and you’re my prisoner,” His tone suddenly went back to loving and soft, as he laid a tender hand on your bare stomach,

“Oh I-- I didn’t know you were into that,” You nervously replied.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N,” You heard the husk again. “But you’ll learn tonight,”

You could hear him getting undressed, and then undressing you. Something about it seemed so...wrong. And real.

“Rafa--”

“DON’T call me that,” He growled. “I’m not Rafa anymore, I’m Vada,”

“....Vada?”

“Uh yeah, like-- like Darth Vada,” He joked, making a thick New York Accent saying “Vader”.

“Um, ok ‘Vada’, I don’t think I like--” Before you could protest anymore, Vada’s mouth was on yours in a hungry animalistic kiss. His hands began exploring your body, pulling and prodding every inch of you. Everything was heightened by the darkness of the blindfold, and it was exquisite. His mouth travelled south, biting and kissing every inch of you on the way down. You writhed in pleasure while strapped to the bed, you knew your arms were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Now, be a good little whore and don’t make a SOUND while daddy works, or you’re going to get punished,” You heard the husky voice commanding you.

“A good little what now?” You asked defensively, he had never talked to you this way-- and you weren’t sure you liked it. No matter who he “was.”

“I said QUIET,” The voice grew more cruel, but two fingers went inside you giving you instant absolute pleasure it was impossible to be mad. His digits roamed around inside you like he was digging for treasure. He hit every inch of your walls, flicking your clit harder and harder until you were practically vibrating off the bed. You began to scream, but you felt his mouth over yours before you could.

“WHAT did I say, puta?” The voice barked. “Not a SOUND,”

You usually loved hearing spanish coming out of his mouth, but ‘puta’ didn’t sound like a term of endearment.

“S-Sorry,” You stammered, as he continued to work. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his mouth. His oral skills had improved massively in a surprising amount of time, but you weren’t exactly wondering why. His tongue lapped you up like a dog drinking water, he sucked on your clit like it was a lollipop You bucked and spasmed under his mouth, this time biting back screams like hell, it was almost painful.

“Now, mi puta, are you going to come for me?”

“Y-Y-es,”

“NO! You’re NOT,” suddenly everything stopped. There were no more fingers, tongues, nothing going on downstairs, except for a now exceedingly excruciating pain throbbing from your clit-- is this what blue balling felt like?

“Please,” You whimpered, the pain was tormenting. Little did you know, Vada was enjoying every second of your suffering. It was one of his favorite things, watching powerless victims writhe in pain under his god like tongue.

“No, you’re gonna wait for ME,” All of a sudden you felt his dick inside you, pounding you like a rock. He wasn’t his usual, gentle self. He was pulling in and out of you like a jackhammer, and you loved every second of it.

“Now, mi vida,” He whispered as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “Now, you may scream my name,”

“RAFAAEELLLLLL!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire life came crashing over you like a tsunami. Suddenly you felt a slap to the side of your face.

“That’s NOT my name!!!” He yelled while he slapped you across the face as he violently shook inside you, the rage seemed to send him over the edge. He pulled out of you and sprayed his white manhood all over your face.

Everything was still and silent for a moment, both of you recovering from the events. It took you several minutes for you to drift back into your body, but when you did-- you realized what he had said. And you also realized you were covered in sticky white cum.

“Ew, Rafa why--” You made a face, trying to shake it off.

“I wanna see you lick it off. Lick off your face like a dirty whore,” The husky voice commanded you.

“Okay it was fun and all, and probably the best sex we’ve ever had, but enough’s enough,” You were starting to get annoyed with the whole “dominatrix” thing.

“....What did you just say?”

“...Yes, fine, okay I guess I’m kinkier than I thought. Because baby that was THE best sex we’ve ever had...maybe in my life,” You giggled.

“Oh,” You could hear a dark, evil chuckle. “Oh carino, you have no idea how happy that makes me to hear you say that,”

“...Why?” You were starting to get really freaked out. You felt the blindfold come off, but you were still bound to the bed. Your eyes took a minute to get used to the light, but when your vision finally focused you saw Rafael--- with arm tattoos?

“....Because I’m not Rafael,” He grinned wickedly.

[breaddaerb]

listen i swear i'm not the kinda person that celebrates christmas when its february or something but. christmas scenarios with the whole squad??

[ valorant headcannons II ]

✎↷: you didn’t need to clarify that first part.. i looped ‘baby it’s cold outside’ yesterday afternoon ahxjdhjz. i got you, friend, have some late-christmas cheer!

christmas is a huge event. friends, couples, families, and strangers alike share the holiday around the world, and the valorant protocol was not excluded from this tradition. with so many young agents and an old man watching over them on a daily basis, it only made sense to...

...dress brimstone up like santa claus. the idea appeared when phoenix was talking about how he had pictures of himself sitting on santa’s lap when he was a baby at protocol dinner, and the other members of the ‘hell trio’ went along with it. after the meal, jett, raze, and phoenix came up to brimstone, begging for the man to dress up as santa that year. 

he owned a hat and a suit. it was his christmas present once when omen first joined protocol and severely misunderstood what the tradition meant, and had caused killjoy to have a borderline suffocation from her laughter. on christmas day when brimstone walked into the living room in thick black boots and bright red cloth, the younger members were ecstatic and practically clung to the man all evening in one form or another. 

every year their christmas meal is different. the different parts of the meal are always split up, like skye and breach on dessert or reyna and sage on the main course. there’s a lot of love packed into these meals, but also competition. to make the better dish or the weirdest dish is a conflict that the more chaotic members have, but brimstone warned them to make edible food for the rest of the protocol.

killjoy and raze are banned from the kitchen. if their boombot eats were anything to go with, it’s that no matter how hard or what they try, it’ll be exceedingly dangerous. instead, they get to work on decorating the protocol! they used to get real pine trees until the brazilian woman thought it would be freakin’ awesome to make ornaments with her grenades.

they never got to have a real tree again after that. 

brimstone has always tried to make sure everyone was at christmas dinner. no running off, no training, nothing but a normal evening where they could be the most comfortable. it was important to psychologically maintain a sense of normalcy, which meant that presents were bought. a lot.

sova and omen are the best present givers. they’re able to observe the small details and catch the little things, buying the desired gifts for their colleagues when the time comes around. most of sova’s gifts had a cheesily heartfelt message included in it to each of the agents and never failed to melt hearts, while omen did what he could to make homemade presents. like knitting.

and yes, omen did make all of the crew sweaters. they weren’t christmas ones, but neutral and customized colors that were made for the given agent. sova cried when omen gave him his present, ever the most-genuine one, and had embraced the man tightly. the picture of the affectionate gesture was saved in brimstone’s office, treasured on one of his walls.

mistletoes weren’t a common occurrence. yes, there was one always hung, and there was also a robotic mistletoe that would shoot anyone who didn’t kiss underneath it. killjoy reassured sage and skye that it was only a light zap and that they shouldn’t worry about it that much! after all, it was just a taser. viper was the unfortunate soul who had walked underneath the mistletoe, and yoru walking by in passing resulted in both of them getting zapped.

“you should run!” but real life.

there’s more drinking than there is food. some stay sober to witness the blackmail festival and clean up while the drunkards ‘get drunk’, and it’s overall a great time for both parties. reyna held a drinking contest with raze, and though it wasn’t clear on who won, the two of them made ‘close acquaintances’ that night. cypher saved the whole thing onto his cameras and phoenix begged him for the content as well because that, my friends, was totally going in the highlight reel.

even the healers don’t stay out of drinking. sage is considerably a light weight and usually hangs onto a glass of wine the whole night, but skye? oh, skye will go on and on. her drinking tolerance is among the best with breach by her side, and the two of them could casually share a few heavy drinks without a break. alcohol has never phased either of them, and brimstone had tried to join them once. notice: tried. once.

but everyone has fun! if a pair or two sneak away to continue their christmas festivities elsewhere, it’s likely that the entirety of protocol would be too drunk to notice until the majority of people trickled away. cypher and jett are somehow the ones who are last. jett, on the verge of blacking out, is sluggish and slow as ever. the moroccan man teases for it, but he doesn’t mind bringing her safely back to her room and giving her the according medicine for her hangover the next morning.

[cha-melodius]

Napollya + 6, 34 or 60, if I'm not too late? ❤ (yeah look they are all very good and I couldn't narrow it down to just one, sorry LOL)

me: how nice of Ely to give three options also me: what if I wrote a story with all three???

Ok, so I didn’t get a “returned from the dead” kiss in this one, but that’s mostly because I JUST wrote one of those in a different wip, so you’ll get it soon enough. 😂 And you get bonus kissing in the rain, which I canNOT believe was not an option in the prompt list. 

So here it is, Napollya + “I’m sorry” kiss + Throwing Their Arms Around The Other Person, Holding Them Close While They Kiss

Also find it on AO3

_________

It had been such a stupid argument.

How was he supposed to know that today happened to be a significant anniversary full of bad memories? How was he supposed to know that his usual level of friendly needling would set his partner off in a way he hadn’t seen since Rome? How could he have guessed that their verbal sparring—which, ok, he said some things he regrets—would have ended up with him pinned to the wall by his throat; certainly not any way he might have imagined being pinned to the wall by his partner.

Right. No point in thinking about that now.

Now Illya has been gone for hours after he stormed out of the safehouse and, more worryingly, the tracker that Napoleon had snuck onto him had gone dead. They aren’t just in the middle of a mission, they’re in the middle of a exceedingly tricky mission involving a highly volatile and dangerous target, leaving them all more on edge than usual. Add to that the unlucky timing of a cyclone bearing down on them, set to make landfall in Macau all too soon. So yes, Napoleon had gone after him without a second thought, tearing out of the safehouse like a bat out of hell, heedless of the rain already beginning to lash mercilessly down.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, ok?

It seems like less of a good idea now that he’s soaked to the bone and the water is squelching in his ruined shoes as he hurries through the flooding streets. And who knows when he’ll be able to get back to Milan to commission a new pair. The area where Illya’s tracker had last transmitted from is deserted now; everyone has sought shelter from the storm at this point. Everyone except Napoleon. For all he knows, their target had managed to capture his partner, and his chances of finding any clues are rapidly washing away.

Still, it’s not like he can just give up. He squints down at the small receiver, which displays the last known location of the tracker, and follows the signal down the street. It’s a frustratingly normal road, lined with cute little shops and restaurants, now all closed and boarded up against the storm. Not exactly someplace that he’d expect a highly-trained spy to disappear. He’s nearly reached the exact spot when the receiver flickers and winks off, no doubt as waterlogged as Napoleon feels.

“Fuck,” he swears, barely audible even to himself over the wind and rain, and smacks the device futily against his palm a few times.

There’s nothing here. Of course there’s nothing here. It’s the middle of a goddamn tropical cyclone. He should probably see if he can find someplace to break into so he can ride out the worst of the storm, because it’s unlikely he’ll make it back to the safehouse at this point. A restaurant, maybe, so he can raid the kitchen for something to eat. Not that he’s particularly hungry; his stomach seems to have been replaced by a cold, bitter knot of fear and regret.

If only he’d laid off it this morning. If only he’d noticed the signs that this wasn’t a normal day. If only he’d gone after Illya sooner. If only, if only, if only. And now his partner is missing. He could be injured, or being currently tortured, or, or—

Abruptly Napoleon is nearly yanked off his feet when someone grabs his arm and hauls him bodily into an alley. He doesn’t yelp in surprise—he doesn’t—but it’s certainly a shock to be shoved up against a wall when he thought he was the only one on the street. It’s even more of a shock to see icy blue eyes staring back at him from beneath a soaked and dripping flat cap.

“Peril?” he gasps, hardly believing his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Cowboy?”

“Looking for you,” Napoleon yells over the wind and rain. “You never came back to the safehouse, and your tracker went dead.”

The corner of Illya’s mouth twitches upward at that. “Trackers and water do not mix very well, you know.”

“I can’t believe you, Peril. Why didn’t you come back before the weather got bad?”

Illya shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d care. Thought I would wait out the storm, maybe not get so wet.”

That makes Napoleon bark out a laugh. “So much for that,” he says, plucking at Illya’s soaked jacket.

“I was not until you decided to show up and stand in a typhoon,” Illya shoots back, but there’s no heat in his voice. He stares at Napoleon for a long moment, and he doesn’t really look angry anymore. Bemused at Napoleon’s sudden appearance, perhaps, and certainly aggreived by the weather, but not angry.

Abruptly Napoleon realizes how close Illya is standing, his body only inches away, practically boxing Napoleon against the wall. It’s no doubt just so that they hear each other over the howling wind, but it draws their tussle that morning to mind, of how close they’d stood then under very different circumstances. Now the proximity pulls Napoleon’s heart into his throat, and he recalls his partner’s earlier words.

“What do you mean, you didn’t think I’d care?”

Illya hums in response, looking away from Napoleon’s searching gaze, and it makes Napoleon wonder if there wasn’t something more behind Illya’s reaction to the fight this morning. He thinks back to the look on his partner’s face right before he’d left the house and realizes with a start that Illya hadn’t just been annoyed and angry at Napoleon’s words. He’d been hurt.

Fuck. Napoleon winces internally, kicking himself for being such an idiot. Well, there’s only one thing for it.

“Look, I’m sorry about this morning. I pushed it too far, and I should have known better,” he offers. Napoleon desperately wants to reach up and turn Illya’s head, to force his partner to meet his eyes, but it feels like a mistake. Still, he can’t just let this go. “C’mon, Peril. You’re my partner. My… my friend. Of course I fucking care,” he huffs, and then adds quitely, before he can stop himself, “probably more than I should.”  Christ. Hopefully the wind swallowed that up before Illya could hear it. He wipes a hand over his face, a futile gesture in the storm. “You think I’m not going to worry when you disappear in the middle of a hurricane?”

“Typhoon,” Illya corrects automatically, and Napoleon can just see the corner of his mouth pull up in a small smile. He can’t help but chuckle at that, and it finally brings Illya’s face back up to look at him. “It’s ok, Cowboy. I am sorry too. You did not know, and instead of saying something, I snapped. It is… difficult for me, sometimes. I am not accustomed to sharing these days with others. With people I— I care about.”

There’s something heavy in Illya’s gaze, and Napoleon gets the feeling that there’s more to his words than it seems at first blush. For a moment the world dims around them—even the driving rain and the howling wind—and he is lost in the glacial blue depths of his partner’s eyes.

“I’m sorry Illya,” Napoleon breathes, and this time he’s not sure if it’s still an apology for what he did this morning, or for what he’s about to do now.

Before he can think better of it, he pushes forward, closing the narrow gap between them and sealing their mouths together. Illya is frozen in place, his lips cold and wet from the rain, and briefly Napoleon considers that this is probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done. Even more stupid than going out in the middle of a typhoon. But then, astoundingly, Illya is kissing him back, his lips parting to let Napoleon’s tongue slide into the heat of his mouth as his body presses forward, pinning Napoleon to the wall. And oh, this is everything he imagined, and nothing like he could have imagined at all.

Napoleon throws his arms around his partner’s waist, pulling him even closer, aching for the warmth of his body that’s radiating through their sodden clothes. One of Illya’s hands tangles in his hair as the other carefully cups his jaw, far more gentle than most would have ever guessed the Russian could be. It’s not a surprise to Napoleon, though, not anymore; Napoleon, who has seen those hands gingerly care for his partners’ wounds, who has seen them tenderly tuck a blanket around Gaby when she falls asleep on the plane (the first time he’d woken to find himself so tucked had been a bit of revelation), who has seen them delicately folding pierogi in a warm, cozy kitchen.

Which is not to say that Illya is not kissing him with enthusiasm. He sucks at Napoleon’s lips and licks past his teeth, and Napoleon has to admit he’s impressed. Of course Illya would be as good at this as he is at everything else. Napoleon would think it unfair that one man could be so talented in so many things, if he wasn’t currently the beneficiary of such talents. It makes him want to know what else Illya is secretly talented at, and the thought sends a warm tug of desire curling low in his stomach. It’s only exacerbated by the feeling of the long line of Illya’s body pressed tightly against his and the way their clothes are clinging to every part of them, leaving very little to the imagination.

Of course, at that point Illya moves on to suck and bite at the tender skin of Napoleon’s neck, and Napoleon’s resulting gasp ends with him sputtering through a mouthful of rain. Right. They are still standing outside in a tropical cyclone.

“Peril— ungh, Illya, wait—” Napoleon groans, trying to ignore the surge of disappointment that floods through him when Illya pulls back. “The weather. We should— gotta get out of this hurricane—”

“Typhoon,” Illya smirks wryly. “Typhoon, Christ, whatever. You have somewhere to shelter nearby?”

Illya nods, an unbelievably soft smile on his face, and leans in briefly to kiss him again. “This way, Cowboy.”

He takes Napoleon by the hand and leads him further down the alley to a side door that’s already unlocked. The light from the parts of the windows that aren’t covered is barely enough to illuminate the interior, but the space appears to be full of tables and long, plush booths. A restaurant, then. A moment later Illya’s lighter flares to life and he lights a small collection of candles that he’s apparently managed to scrounge up somewhere.

“Guess we’re spending the night here, then,” Napoleon says as he sits down in one of the booths, bouncing once on the cushion. “Could be worse.”

Illya grunts in agreement as he peels off his jacket and hooks his soaked hat over the back of a chair, and the way the warm glow of the candle light illuminates the thin shirt clinging to his torso makes Napoleon’s mouth go dry. Then Illya catches him staring and smirks knowingly.

“However shall we pass the time?” Napoleon asks, trying for smooth nonchalance and all but failing. All his charm and skill at seduction fleeing him in the face of something that matters.

Illya’s grin turns wolfish at that, and he stalks purposefully over to Napoleon before neatly straddling his lap. Without the distraction of the wind and rain the sensation is nearly overwhelming, so surely no one could blame him for the way his breath catches in his throat when Illya leans down, lips brushing the shell of Napoleon’s ear, and murmurs, “I have a few ideas.”

_________

I've never been blown by the winds of a hurricane Never been in a flood I've never been buried up to my neck in mud But I have fallen in love And that's enough Of a natural disaster for me

– “Natural Disaster” by Jeff Tweedy