#Once he says that he wants to fight for you... you're given a choice of actions

[kingtomura]

Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off. 

Bad idea. 

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. 

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins. 

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way. 

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating. 

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse.  “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.” 

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in. 

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off. 

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window. 

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts. 

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick. 

Tap. 

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination. 

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work. 

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here. 

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you. 

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear. 

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki. 

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse.  “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up. 

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment. 

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist. 

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn–  the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.” 

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver. 

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again. 

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away. 

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room. 

“Be quiet for me, yeah?” 

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you. 

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and  sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over– 

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.” 

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference. 

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both. 

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit. 

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet. 

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.” 

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave. 

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.” 

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you. 

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock. 

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm. 

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” 

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip. 

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it. 

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you.  You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets. 

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy. 

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.” 

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.” 

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

[yourlittlebunnyy]

try again -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: after a fight in the Night Court, Y/n seek refuge in the Spring Court where she finds a old lover again.

warnings: ofc none

w/c: 5k

enjoy🎀

"Are you telling me you want Feyre to destroy an entire Court-of allies against Hybern, dammit-just because of a love affair gone wrong?"

Right now you don't care much about the consequences your words will cause you, and you certainly don't care that you are raising your voice to the High Lord of the Court of Night. Rhysand merely stares at you with glacial violet eyes, his stern face painted with total indifference. Here is the one you hate: not your friend, but the High Lord. The one who reserves glances of superiority for you and makes you feel stupid every time you open your mouth. But it is not he who answers you, but rather Cassian, always the first to put Rhysand before everyone, before even himself.

"Speak more respectfully to your High Lady." You cannot stop your face from contorting into a grin. The concept of High Lady was invented by Rhysand and has no real value, you think, now they're going to resent Tamlin for that too? Besides the fact that Feyre has no political experience, hell, she wasn't even a Fae until recently, how do they expect her to lead a Court?

Mor, as usual interested in putting straw on the fire, speaks in a honeyed voice, "Are you still pining for Tamlin, Y/n? We thought that time was over." You feel your cheeks go flaming with anger. You want to respond, but Azriel, always the pacifist in the countless confrontations you've had with your friends, gets in the way. The blonde doesn't seem to relent even when the winged male tells her to stop, and your face shifts to Rhysand, who sits in his study chair settling more comfortably on the backrest, enjoying the show. There's no point in arguing, you think. You roll your eyes, and under everyone's gaze but without saying a word, you leave the room.

You love your family, but sometimes they really seem dumber than a goat. You are not a High Lady, no, and certainly your job does not include ruling a Court, but you know perfectly well too that whatever Feyre is doing is wrong. But you don't blame her: Rhysand can be persuasive, and probably the destruction of the Spring Court was more his idea than the Feyre's, he's still attached to events that happened five centuries ago.

You just don't understand, given the delicate period Prythian is going through, why tear down an entire Court. One more ally against Hybern. And above all, mixing politics and personal conflicts? Never a good idea. Not to mention Mor, and Rhysand's attitude. And... everything. You are tired, and with a sigh you walk out of the huge building and down the main street of Velaris, taking more time to think. Normally you would have winnoved in your apartment on the edge of town, but you feel the need to blow off some steam.

Too bad your little walk doesn't help, in fact. Seeing people so carefree and naive makes you see red, because they have that chance, and the rest of the Night Court doesn't. You've always tried to push the issue, trying to get as many women and children into Velaris as possible, but Rhysand has always been very firm about the rules. Slowly you realize that maybe they are not friends, or even family, as you allowed yourself to call them years ago. You don't share their choices, their ways, their governance. You don't share any thoughts. But you are stuck. Where could you possibly go?

You arrive home and the first thing you do is undress and prepare a hot bath. Once you are done, with only a towel you head into the small kitchen, determined to make yourself some tea and take a tonic to sleep, exhausted from this day.

At your table you find Azriel. That's right, you had forgotten that you now share an apartment with him. You greet him by calling his name, and he looks at you curiously, almost worriedly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you're not quite sure how to answer. Normally you are not so unhappy, but today's fight hit you hard. It has opened your eyes. Feyre, here for so little, is already more important than you. Not to mention how they make you feel inadequate and stupid, as if your opinion doesn't count for anything. You don't respond, not trusting your voice, and simply shrug. Azriel gets up and takes the tea-making supplies from your hands.

"I'll do it." He says kindly, and you murmur a thank you, and decide to get dressed in the meantime. When you return from your room, tea is poured into a steaming mug on the table.

"Two teaspoons of sugar, just the way you like it." This brings a smile back to your face, and you begin to sip the sweet liquid careful not to burn your tongue. "You can tell me what's going on, you know."

You think about it for a while before answering, but eventually decide that you have nothing to lose. "I don't want to be here anymore." Azriel looks at you surprised.

"Do you mean... in this apartment, or...?"

"No. I want to leave the Night Court. I don't want to work for Rhysand anymore, I'm exhausted." You sigh, and tears sting your eyes. Azriel looks at you sympathetically.

"Don't you feel at home anymore?" You shake your head, and are glad you confided in him. If anyone can understand you, it is certainly Azriel. He nods, silence takes over, and the only sound is the jarring sound of a teaspoon used to stir the tea, hoping to cool it slightly.

"Maybe you should leave, then." He says simply, his tone serene. You did not expect such a reaction, but you are grateful for it. A bitter laugh shakes your shoulders. "And where?"

Azriel shrugs. "Everywhere. Anywhere you want." I suppress his words by really considering it.

"What about Rhysand?"

"I could... help you." He says finally, and his words mean so much to you right now.

"Would you really do that?" He merely nods. "I ... thank you."

Not long after, the tea now cold and the cookies you kept inside the drawer now gone, the plan is decided. You will contact an old friend at the Spring Court, and ask her for refuge.

Azriel will accompany you to the edge of the Spring Court, helping you carry your things and offering emotional support.

"Are you sure this is the right choice? Feyre..." You nip his speech in the bud with a hand gesture. You've thought long and hard about where to go. But you have no contacts besides this friend in other Courts, and despite your history with Tamlin... you can do it.

"I'll come and see you, you know."

"I hope so."

"Will I ever know what happened between you and him?"

The question leaves you speechless, your body stiffens and you freeze for a moment, but you are quick to recover. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"We loved each other. But then... Amarantha came and..." You don't say more than that, you don't explain further, but Azriel understands and doesn't ask questions.

"So...we'll see each other, yes?"

"Sure. I'm counting on it, Az." And with a final hug, you turn and enter the Court of Spring without looking back.

The first few weeks proceed slowly, but positively. You get up in the morning when the sun is already high in the sky, a warm breeze caressing your legs as you step out onto the small balcony with hot tea warming your hands. Your friend had to leave shortly after your arrival, and she will be back in who knows how long, leaving her home all to yourself. By now you have built a routine: you wake up and sip the sweet drink, you read until lunch, you cook, and in the afternoon you take care of chores. But your favorite activity so far has definitely been going to the local market. It is so different from how you remember.... And yet so much the same. The air of fear you felt because of Amarantha has ceased, though a small trickle of it remains because of Hybern. The stalls overflow with fruits and vegetables of all kinds, colors and scents. It makes you smile with familiarity every time you pass by.

Today you woke up determined to make some treats, but you are missing some ingredients, forcing you to go to the market. You quickly slip into one of your friend's clothes, and grab a picnic basket on your way out the door smiling. There is no doubt that you are happier now.

"Hi, honey! What can I get you today?" Alyna, a delightful female with whom you have bonded a lot these past weeks, greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, Aly! Um, could you make a mix of all the fruit?" You ask quietly, and the fae is quick to give you whatever you need. You admire the way she fiddles with her hands, but at the same time she's conversing with you-she's really good at everything, you think.

"So how are you finding yourself?"

"Great, really great. I'm really happy with my choice." She smiles at you as she helps you arrange the food in the basket. "I'm glad about that. Come see me for tea once in a while!"

"Of course, how much do I owe you?"

"Oh, dear, but don't worry!" After further insistence, she allows you to leave her a couple of gold coins. Much more than she actually needs, but she deserves it.

You opt to take another tour of the stalls before heading home. One in particular catches your eye, the colorful clothes too beautiful not to be admired. You are so busy running the pink fabric under your fingertips that you hardly recognize the voice next to you. Your body seems to do so before you even realize who the male next to you is. But then it's clear as day: the crisp, rainy, earthy scent, so unique and delicious.The blond hair and the broad warrior shoulders. It hasn't changed one bit. Your whole body is stiff, but you take a deep breath. You prepared for this moment; you knew you would see him again sooner or later.

Things between you and Tamlin did not end badly, but neither did they end well. It wasn't even a relationship you had: you barely had time to get to know each other and fall in love before Amarantha yanked him away from you. You suffered a long time for something that never even happened. But you know there won't be another chance like that: Tamlin has loved, no-loves Feyre with all of himself. He has moved on. And so have you, of course. But he will forever remain a crack in your heart.

The merchant's voice brings you back to reality. "Miss, are you interested in the dress?" You look at her wide-eyed, confused.

"Excuse me?" The sound of your voice makes the male, who has remained unaware of your presence until now, turn around.

"I was asking if you were interested in the dress."

"Y/n?"

"I, um. No, thank you. Sorry for wasting your time." Your tone is confused, you feel Tamlin's gaze burning your skin as he approaches. You feel his presence all over you.

"Don't worry, dear." The merchant walks away, leaving you alone with him.

"Y/n... what are you doing here?" For the first time in fifty years you allow yourself to look into his eyes, and it's as if the world is falling apart and rebuilding at the same time.

"Tamlin..." Tears wet your eyes as you try to show strength in front of the male you loved so strongly before. And who has now lost his mind for another female.

"What are you doing here?" The anger in his face, in his voice makes you take a step back.

"I-I ran away. I didn't fit in, and an old friend offered me to stay with her here." He lets out an annoyed snort.

"Of course, they didn't send you, did they?"

"No. I--there's something you need to know, Tamlin, about Feyre. I'm not in the habit of getting involved in matters that I don't-" He doesn't even let you finish the sentence.

"Feyre and I are just fine, and I won't let your Court get in the way one more time."

"No-"

"No, Y/n. You made your choice half a century ago when you chose him over me. Now I am making my choice. You better get out of my Court, you are no longer welcome."

And so, as he came so suddenly, he goes away, leaving you standing there like a fool. You compose yourself as best as you can and set out on your way home, tears flowing freely down your cheeks in the meantime.

You didn't bake anymore. As soon as you returned, you took a hot bath and a sleeping tonic, which has now become your trusted go-to solution. You woke up a few hours later, in the middle of the night, the effect of the tonic wearing off. Thoughts invaded your head, and it was only after hours of tossing and turning in bed and the sun coming up by now that you decided to write a letter to him. You get up and grab a pen and paper, your hands trembling with excitement. You cannot let Feyre find out about this, or your whole plan will be blown. You wish you had Azriel by your side to give you advice.

Dear Tamlin,

I apologize for making such an impetuous introduction to your Court, and especially without official notice. I wanted to let you know that I no longer work for the Night Court and have left of my own free will, but I have some important things to discuss with you, and they concern the security of your Court. I hope you can understand, and I hope to see you soon so we can talk about it. In case this does not happen, I hope to get you permission to reside in your territory, and I warn you not to trust those close to you.

Best regards,

Yours, Y/n.

With a sigh you close the letter and don't even wait for the sun to fully rise: you leave the house with a light cloak to cover you from the cool breeze and take the letter to the nearest village messenger.

The reply comes sooner than expected. It is simple and informal, and you sincerely hope that everything has gone according to plan and that it is not a trap set by Feyre, or worse, Rhysand himself.

Meet me at the market this afternoon after lunch.

Tamlin.

You reread the small sheet of paper a hundred times before getting ready. A way of nostalgia invades your senses one by one, but you chase it away violently. You don't have time for this. You must help him save himself and save his own court before it is too late.

"Y/n?" Tamlin notices you first as you wait for him at the same stall as last time. You turn quickly, so fast that you lose your balance and risk falling, but the male has quick reflexes and catches you before that can happen.

"You haven't changed a bit." His wry comment lightens the air around you, but it weighs down the burden in your chest that you feel. However, you do not give it away. You are here for a very specific reason, and you don't even know how much time you have left. You cannot be distracted by events that happened years and years ago.

"Tamlin." You greet him. "I'm here to warn you." You don't reveal everything right away; you're still trying to figure out if he would be willing to believe you or not. You know it's not easy for him. His expression turns cloudy, but he invites you to continue. You send down a knot in your throat before you speak again.

"It's about Feyre. I-I know it's hard to believe, but she didn't come back to you. Rhysand appointed her as High Lady, and you let her into your territory as a spy for the Night Court. She will destroy you, you can't-. you can't-we can't afford that in a time of war." You talk so fast that you stumble over the words occasionally, not stopping to breathe even once. Tamlin is almost tempted to invite you to breathe and explain more calmly, but your words cloud his eyes with anger.

"You... you-" He cannot even find the words to tell you after such a revelation.

"No, you have to believe me. Maybe-let me show you." Your tone is almost pleading, and at this point there would be no point in denying it to you. Tamlin knows you: you may have chosen him fifty years ago, but you have never been a liar.

You show him everything you can. It's been a long time since you've entered his mind, and the feeling is so familiar that your heart tightens. You focus on what you have to show him, and you don't think about it. After what seems like hours, you get to the last fight that happened with Rhysand, and when you get out of his mind his posture is slumped, tired, exhausted. You feel sorry for him, just as Mor had said, and you feel sorry for everything he seems to be feeling right now.

"Is he really ... so much better than me?" He finally asks, and it's not what you expected. You want to hug him, to tell him that no, absolutely not, never, never could Rhysand be, but you hold back.

"No." You just say, searching his eyes with yours, but not finding them. His face is low, probably trying to hide what look like ... tears, from the people in his Court. "Tamlin..."

"No, no...it's all right. I'll send her away now, you can stay as long as you like." The answer should make you happy, but it doesn't. His tone is so pained that you yourself begin to cry. You find it very ironic, how you are crying for him but he is probably crying for another female.

He leaves without saying a word to you. Just like last time.

Months go by. The war against Hybern has been fought and you haven't seen Tamlin once again. You have not taken part in the fighting despite your training. You do not feel like seeing such death. But you know that the Spring Court did, and it was also thanks to them that Prythian won against Hybern.

Azriel has visited you a handful of times since then, and he has always been very apprehensive and kind to you. No one yet knows where you ended up, and you will never be more grateful to anyone than him for keeping quiet.

Your dear friend has also returned, and together with her you have managed to find a small apartment in the nearest village, allowing you to take more part in the social side of your life.

It feels strange to return to the market once the war is over. A feeling of peace and total relaxation fills the air and feels surreal to you. You are not used to it, but you welcome it with open arms.

"Hey, honey, how are you?" Alyna, who has become one of the closest friends you have, asks you.

"It's such a nice day today, it's better than usual, or is it not?" You say lightheartedly, a big smile makes its way onto your face. Not just because of the war, you realize. You've finally managed to build a life for yourself away from the people who were giving you misery. Only one small question mark remains in your life, and that is Tamlin, but you realize there is not much you can do about it. You wonder why you still can't get over him after all this time. Is it the same for him, too? Surely not. Surely he will feel what you are feeling now, but for another female. The thought alone is capable of hurting you, but you drive it away, focusing on the figure in front of you.

"Yes, finally the burden of war no longer hangs over Prythian, I would say. Would you like some coffee?" And how could you say no.

When you get home in front of your door you find a letter. It comes from the Court, but it is not Tamlin's handwriting. It is an invitation, you realize when you open it, you have been invited to a formal ball to celebrate the end of the war.

You are delighted, this makes you a citizen in your own right, but you are also weirded out. From the invitation it appears to be a formal ball, and although you were an emissary long ago, at the Spring Court you are nothing more than a simple peasant girl, who like everyone else gets her food from what she produces, why would you attend such an event? More importantly, will the Night Court participate?

You put the countless doubts to rest with a bath and a sleeping tonic.

The next morning, you head to the village with one goal firmly set in your mind: you need an elegant and appropriate outfit for the Spring Court. All the formal dresses you own clearly belong to the Night Court, and although they are beautiful and elegant, by the time you have tried one on you have realized that you would not be comfortable. And also, if others will be present you want to show them that you are now no longer part of their Court. That this is your home, and you are happier than ever.

You walk into an old weaver's store that you've been to a couple of times before and you've always been comfortable.

"Y/n! What a pleasure to have you here, what would you need?" The female greets you warmly as always, and you reciprocate with equal affection.

"I would need a dress for a dance. Something simple but nice." The Fae squares your figure with watchful eyes, and you can almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"Try this on."

After a whole afternoon spent inside her cuddly little store, and no less than three delightful new dresses, you finally manage to get home. It seems almost out of place to have three such exquisite and expensive dresses in your hands in such a tiny, bare apartment, but you were unable to say no in front of such beauty, such art expressed in fabric. You go to sleep with still a broad smile on your lips, perhaps in spite of everything you would not have minded going back to the court events.

The next day you wake up and instead of your usual reading, you do household chores, since you were supposed to be in the Spring Palace in the evening.

You gather fresh eggs and feed the animals, pick various fruits from the trees, and finally take a nice refreshing bath. You spend the afternoon getting ready, and just as the sun is about to set, you transmute in front of the Palace.

The feeling that overtakes you is ... it makes your stomach clench in agitation. It has been more than fifty years since you set foot in its home, but it has not changed one bit. The gardens are immense and full of sweetly and delicately scented flowers, the hallways are filled with gold and riches on every side. A Fae you don't recognize at the entrance to the ballroom asks you for an invitation, and you cheerfully hand it to him.

You don't immediately feel comfortable when you enter, and you make your eyes roam all over the room looking for the familiar figures of the Night Court, but you meet no one. In fact, no one from other Courts seems to be present. Your eyes wander again and again, until they meet those of a tall, relaxed-faced male. Tamlin. He sips an amber liquid from a gold-decorated glass as he talks happily with Lucien. Oh, how you've missed him, too.

When he notices you, he seems to take his leave and you stare at him as he crosses the entire room to join you. Your heart beats so fast that you are sure he can hear it as he gives you a slight bow and takes your hand, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He leaves you the spot where he placed his lips almost thrilling.

"Y/n, you are stunning." He says, smiling gently at you, and the way he acts confuses you a little. You don't want to be anyone's spare tire. But at the same time, it ... it's all so much the same, it's as if 50 years had never passed. You've been hoping Tamlin would compliment you, after all the effort you put into fixing your hair, face and dress, and now that he does -- you're confused.

"Thank you, Tamlin. To what do I owe your invitation?" You decide to be direct.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk about." He moves causing you to step forward in front of him, lays a warm hand on your uncovered back, and guides you to the banquet full of treats, away from the center of the room. "Help yourself." You don't serve yourself, despite all that food being extremely tempting, but instead you wait for him to speak. He sighs. "I wanted to thank you. For your warning. If she had carried out her plan-I don't even know if this Court would have stood."

"Of course, Tamlin. From my side I wanted to ... apologize." No apology was planned, but you owe him one.

He shrugs, dismissing the question with his hand.

"That's okay, I hope now that it's all over ... we can keep in touch. If you'd like to come to these kinds of events." You don't answer, but your smile speaks for you. You don't dance together, but it's the beginning of something wonderful, something that already happened a long time ago.

After almost a month, another invitation arrives. It is a dance where the other Seasonal Courts are also invited, so it will be even more exclusive, fortunately you still have two more dresses and most importantly, there will be no Night Court.

You quiver and are even more agitated than last time, you feel like a little novice girl. You avoid drinking any more coffee in the morning, not wanting to increase your nerves even more than they already are. You again spend the whole afternoon getting ready and transmute once more in front of his palace, the honeyed scent of flowers welcoming you just as you remembered. Your heart begins to beat wildly. You enter the hall and your eyes automatically land on Tamlin. You missed him, you realize.

"Y/n! Good to see you." The blond-haired male once again makes his way to join you. "You look as lovely as ever." His eyes burn on your figure, bolder than last time. He hands you a colorful drink and you gladly accept it.

"You look lovely too, Tamlin." You sip the pink liquid in the glass, a sweet and sour taste invades your mouth. "It's delicious, what is it?" You ask charmed. The male chuckles.

"Something new from the kitchen, but I don't know what it is either." He seems to hesitate a bit, but finally speaks, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Do you want to dance?"

Your knees almost buckle. "My pleasure." You say all too quickly. He holds out a hand to you, and after placing the glasses on a nearby table, you direct me to the middle of the dance floor, all eyes on you.

You dance in silence all evening. One dance turns into two, then three, and then into a whole night. When the music ends by now there are only a few people left, you are sweaty and out of breath, but you are happy. As happy as you've ever been. Deep laughter shakes your body, finally infecting Tamlin as well.

"I haven't danced in a long time." You say once you've calmed down, almost as justification for your behavior.Tamlin merely smiles at you. You head to the banquet and he hands you a large glass of water, and you are eternally grateful. You drink it down in one gulp.

"So...see you, Y/n?" He asks you uncertainly. You nod smilingly.

Only a handful of days pass when a letter arrives. But it's not a formal invitation, no. You recognize Tamlin's handwriting and can still smell him in the air. Has he been here? You quickly return and toss the basket full of crops at the doorway, eager to open the envelope with trembling hands.

Dear Y/n,

I would have liked to tell you in person, but I couldn't find you at home. I hope it's okay to have asked your friend for your address. Be ready tonight after dinner.

Yours, Tamlin.

Your body freezes before rejoicing in laughter coming from your heart. You get right down to business: do your usual routine, bath, hair, and finally your dress. You don't wear an elegant one, but a simple, typical Spring Court dress that Alyna gave you. You do sweet braids and don't wear makeup, but use your favorite perfume. Your favorite perfume. Someone knocks on the door at dusk, and it only takes a few moments for you to open it.

"Hey, Y/n." His eyes linger all over your body, he runs his tongue over his lips, and you can't help but stare.

"Hi." You greet him simply, a shy smile on your lips and slightly rosy cheeks. It's a date, you realize.

"Thank you for accepting."

"Did I have a choice?" He chuckles, then shakes his head.

"Of course you did. But I wanted to take you somewhere." He smiles at you. He holds out his hand and you grasp it, one moment you are in the doorway of your apartment, the next you are on a meadow covered with pale flowers and a cool stream. You look around in wonder. You had missed these places, so much that you didn't even realize it.

"It's... it's gorgeous." You comment in amazement. He nods, the stars reflected in his eyes giving him a poetic air. You would like to touch him now more than ever.

"I would have liked to have had more time, with you." He says after what seems like an eternity spent staring at you and nothing else. You nod, step forward, and he does the same. The warm breeze ruffles your hair, and you make to raise a hand and fix it, but he is quicker and moves a strand behind your ear. Just as he did one night long ago, and countless other times.

"Tamlin..." He shushes you with a kiss. It is sudden and leaves you breathless. It takes you a couple of seconds to recover and reciprocate with as much passion, as much feeling. You both pull away reluctantly, your breath heavy and your cheeks flushed. You can feel her heart beating incessantly, in the same rhythm as yours.

"I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you again." He says and makes you chuckle, because it was exactly the same for you. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much." You answer and kiss him again. And again, again, again.

You have been denied for fifty years and now you don't have enough, you want to take back the time you lost. You must eventually break away one more time, making you moan in frustration.

"Let's try again." He says with his lips still resting on yours, your breaths mingling together.

"Let's try again."

[sweetbans29]

Long Way Home (Part 2) - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Long Way Home (Part 1)

Summary: After putting your girls through a traumatic week - they see all the trauma that you come back with (based on THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of scars, CUTE

Word Count: 2.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I didn't really know where I was going with this but I like it. I like it a lot.

To say you were glad you were home was an understatement. The past week has been the definition of crazy. When Kate and Caitlin realized you weren't a fraction of their imagination, they wouldn't leave your side. The three of you went over to your parent's house and walked into an almost identical sight of your dad holding your mom. They couldn't believe you were there and told you the whole story of what had happened. If you thought Caitlin was attached at your hip before you left on your assignment, she was even closer to you now. So much so that she wouldn't even let you go to the bathroom unless she was sitting on the counter or right outside the door.

When you first appeared before your girls, they didn't believe you had come back. They had been grieving your loss for several days before you finally made your way through the front door and when you saw their state and heard what had happened you couldn't blame them. Them being told you didn't make it was the last thing that crossed your mind when you were given the green light to go home.

In all of your excitement on your journey home, you completely forgot about why you were sent home. You heard about the bombing of your base and immediately went back to the station, Caitlin and Kate included. You didn't want to bring them but didn't have a choice when they wouldn't let you leave without them. Cailtin's hand never left yours, not for a second.

When you arrived at the station you decided it would be best for Kate and Caitlin to wait outside of the room while you talked to one of the generals. They fought you but you put your foot down, not wanting them to know more than they needed - also because there were some things that you weren't ready to share.

"I don't understand," you say after Gen. Whitley explained what had happened at your previous base. "I was just with them."

"We are still trying to figure out how they got the coordinates," the General says, almost sounding defeated. When he mentioned there were no survivors, you buried the part of you that broke knowing everyone you had just stationed with is in the ground somewhere.

You speak without thinking.

"Send me back," you say.

Whitley sighs. He has thought about it, he thought about it a lot considering the skills you had provided while you were over there. He thought about promoting you and having you on the team leading the search who was responsible for the hit on your team. But then he remembered the reason you were sent home.

You weren't necessarily discharged - at least that is what you were told when you were given the green light to go home. You got injured when one of your caravans was hijacked. injured was putting it lightly considering you were captured and tortured for 36 hours before being found. None of that would even dare leave your lips to the two girls waiting outside. But you were definitely shaken up and spent some time in recovery before heading home. You were still nursing some injuries that remained to be seen by anyone except you.

"Send me back," you say again and immediately regret it, the thought shouldn't have crossed your mind but after hearing about your team you couldn't help it.

"I'm not going to lie to you, it's been a thought but no," he says and you release the breath you had been holding. "Sending you back in the current state you're in wouldn't do anything. plus, I already have a team on the ground."

You respect his decision even though you know you are an asset. Fighting Whitley was like fighting with a wall once his mind was made up. You also don't know how anyone at home would take you going back.

As you leave his office, you are immediately met with Caitlin grabbing your hand and Kate at your side. You walk through the pain and discomfort you are still feeling in your left shoulder abdomen and take your girls home.

The rest of the day is spent between your apartment and Hawkeye-Carver Center as Kate and CC had practice. You sit on the sidelines and watch them practice. You notice life slowly reentering the two who were just so gray. As you sit there, Coach Bluder makes her way over to you and takes a seat.

Neither of you says anything for a minute, both sharing an understanding that was sort of odd for two people who don't know each other super well but share a love for two of the girls on the court has bonded you in a way that not many others have with you.

"Telling them was one of the hardest things, one of the hardest things I have done and that is saying something from a coach," she says with a little laugh.

Your eyes never leave Caitlin as she runs through the drill.

"I can't imagine," you say.

"Their love for you is beyond," Bluder says. This catches your attention.

"Beyond?" You ask, not really sure what she meant by that.

"Beyond. Going all the way to what is seen and more. Those two girls," Bluder says nodding over to Kate and Caitlin, "You have something special in them."

You nod. You know what you have and if you were honest don't know how you got there. Kate was a given as you are family, but Caitlin - she chose to love you beyond what you deserved. She had the choice and chose you.

"Thanks, Coach," you say as Kate comes jogging over. Lisa heads back to her office and you look over at your sister.

"We are done for the day," she says slightly out of breath. "Caitlin just went to shower." She sits down and you shake your head.

"I am not going anywhere, you can go shower too," you say knowing that isn't an option in the older girl's mind.

"Ya right," she says with a scoff and starts scrolling through her phone.

If you were surrounded by both of them, they would trade off watching you while the other goes to do something. They feared if they both stepped away from you, you would somehow magically disappear. It was an irrational fear but you understood it was going to take time for them to heal.

When the three of you went home, you were beyond exhausted. Sleep for you hasn't come easy since being back and your nights were usually spent lying awake, wedged between the two girls. If you did get sleep, you would find yourself waking up in a cold sweat - memories of those 36 hours playing on replay.

As you lay on the couch with the two of them, your head is in Caitlin's lap as she plays with your hair and rubs the side of your neck to your shoulder. Since being home, you are believed to have hidden your scars well, with the exception of some being seen on your legs or felt on your torso. They haven't gone unnoticed but neither Kate nor Caitlin have had the courage to ask. That is until now.

Caitlin's hand wanders a little further into your shirt. Her fingertips find the deep scar on your left shoulder and you wince. You hope it goes unnoticed but Caitlin's head whips away from the TV and looks down at you. Before you know it, she is pulling at the bottom of your shirt to remove it from your body. You didn't have time to react to the speed at which she moving and sigh in defeat knowing her and Kate are about to see more than either of them are prepared for.

Both of the girls are staring at your body. Your eyes close and you prepare for whatever they have in store but the air remains silent.

You feel Caitlin's fingers trace the scars on your stomach then make their way back to the scar that started it all. It is still a bright pink indicating it's still healing.

"What-what happened?" Kate stutters.

You sit up and move to grab your shirt, putting it on again.

"It's nothing either of you need to worry about," you say and for the first time since you have been back, Kate can see how tired your eyes are. She grabs your hand.

"When is the last time you've slept?" Kate asks, knowing she will get an answer regardless of what you say.

"I slept last night," you say. It's the truth. You just chose not to disclose for how long.

Caitlin has tears brimming her eyes, mind still full of the sight of your scars. You bring her into you, adjusting just a little for your comfort.

"It's okay baby, I'm okay," you say. Caitlin wants to wrap her arms around you and just squeeze you but after seeing your torn-up skin she chooses against it. She is scared she will hurt you.

"You need to sleep, please sleep," Kate begs. You nod and lay back down, this time your head in the lap of your sister. Caitlin gets up and heads to your room, hiding the tears that can't seem to stop falling. Kate rubs your back as you let your eyes flutter close.

Even though Kate didn't know it at first, and you for sure didn't know it at all, every time you would jolt awake in the middle of the night it would wake her. Kate didn't understand why she was waking up, really only thought it was to check that you were still there and that your return wasn't a dream. She would see you move but then she would fall right back to sleep. It's not until now that she thought of the possibility of you not being able to sleep.

You don't know how long you are asleep but when you wake up, your head is still in Kate's lap as she is knocked up in a sitting position and Caitlin's asleep on the floor right next to the couch. You blink a few times and realize the sun is rising. For the first time since you arrived, you felt like you were home.

SIX YEARS LATER

"Caitlin, grab your daughter," you yell as the little girl runs around the kitchen island, refusing to put her shoes on.

Caitlin comes in and sweeps up the little girl, "Got you little bug." She sets the little girl down on the counter and puts her shoes on.

"And my daughter? You are the one still running around without your shoes while I'm ready to go," she says referring to your daughter being more like you in this moment.

"Ahhh! My shoes," you say running back to your bedroom and then running back out with them on.

"Okay, I think we are ready," you say checking to make sure you grab everything at the door. "You got our bug and I got our bee," you say referring to the little boy on your hip.

"Did you grab the gift?" Caitlin asks and you nod.

"It's already in the car," you say as your clan makes its way out of the front door. "Did you get our dresses and stuff?"

"Babe, I took everything over to the hotel yesterday," she says.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," you say. "Pregnancy brain." Your hand comes up to your baby bump.

Caitlin shakes her head and laughs, "You're lucky you're cute."

You roll your eyes at her and lock the door.

"Auntie Kate is getting married!" Your little bug exclaims running to the car.

"That's right bug, Aunt Kate is getting married," Caitlin says with a smile on her face, your family is all making its way to the car as well.

"About time," you say in a hushed tone and Caitlin pinches your side.

"Be nice, it's your sister's big day," Cait says now laughing at you.

"She could have proposed last year but no, she had to wait until I was pregnant again and waddling like a penguin," you say, not actually annoyed. You also weren't quite waddling yet, just getting to your second trimester but it was the concept.

Caitlin leans down to kiss your little boy's head, she then kisses the scar on your shoulder before kissing you.

"Just think about what we put her through when we got married," Caitlin says as you both are putting kids in car seats.

Your mind flashes back to all that Kate did for the two of you and you nod.

"You're right," you say and make your way to the passenger seat.

"Of course I'm right, when am I wrong," Caitlin says with confidence.

You laugh and she joins in, knowing full well that you are the one who is always right.

AN: A glimpse into the future with this one. I like it. But it doesn't matter what I think, just what you think. Let me know! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 5 MATCH 6

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Josephine propaganda:

“you get to have a full Disney princess style romance with her, she is the most precious, the most sweet, I love her so much 🥺”

“Josephine's one of the "behind the scenes" companion for the protagonist and she advises them on diplomacy-related matters.

Her personal quest and romance is fairy-tale worthy: she gets threatened with assassination, you help her restore her family's fortune, you get threatened by her best friend to not break her heart, she doesn't dare to hope you mean anything serious when flirting until you spell it out for her, after which Josie agrees to a deeper relationship... And immediately after that she finds out her family has engaged her to a random noble without her knowledge!! You publicly challenge the suitor to a one-on-one duel to win her hand, she finds out and interrupts the duel because she's worried of the Inquisitor throwing literally the entire plot away and risk life in combat for her... To which of course you can confess that they're doing it because they love Josephine, and they get the cutest cutscene with Josie jumping in the Inquisitor's arms and them spinning her around before kissing each other <3 The betrothed steps away because he sees true love between the two. She and the Inquisitor stay together through the end game and after it, gaining a "second home" with her and her family.

She really believes in the Inquisitor's cause and from the very first conversations with her, she asks questions about your background and tries to make you feel welcomed (especially appreciated if the Inquisitor isn't human since people are less trusting of them). She's politically smart but dislikes violence, overall very sweet but still strong... Josie tends to overwork herself (she's a perfectionist) and at first she tries to keep a professional air at all times but if you encourage her, she will rant to you and spill all the tea about nobles lol.”

[codenamesazanka]

more Deku bashing, if you'll forgive me

Seeing lots of shocked tweets and posts that Deku seems so cold and distant about Shigaraki dying in front of him; that Deku doesn't seem to care much at all; that Deku isn't devastated he wasn't able to save that little boy.

I have to point out that Deku never cared in the first place. He really didn't! It's why he needed to see The Crying Child to feel any bit of empathy for Shigaraki, and why ever since then, he only yammers on about saving the Crying Child and only the little boy. He never gave a shit about the Shigaraki in front of him. Never treated Shigaraki like someone real to engage with. That Shigaraki is unforgivable; and it was impossible to have ever bring the Crying Child into reality because the Crying Child was a memory, it happened 15 years in the past that cannot be changed, so all Deku can do is comfort the Crying Child then beat the shit out of Shigaraki.

I mean, just look at the imagery and the word choices:

Are those the words and expressions of someone who's trying to be careful about not hurting Shigaraki? Actually trying to help someone in pain? I remember when people were excited that Danger Sense would tell Shigaraki that Deku doesn't want to hurt him - turns out nah. He was so ready to make Shigaraki throw up blood.

Deku never tried to talk to Shigaraki. He never asked any questions during the whole time they were fighting. Mirio asked a question and got a response; but Deku? Nothing. Even in the memory-realm, when Shigaraki via memory-villains ask Deku what his plan was, Deku just shouted 'No!' and that was that.

When Deku said 'Somewhere inside of you is a person' he literally meant that. Inside of Shigaraki is the Crying Child, who is the actual person. Did he catch Shigaraki saying 'Spinner will be looking forward to this' and think, 'huh, Shigaraki has someone he cares about, I think? Then he wouldn't want to destroy Spinner, would he?' No. The fan-translation got everyone's hopes up that Deku wants to 'shred the rug' of societal failures, but the official translation was correct - Deku wanted to pry the lid off Shigaraki's trauma, accusing Shigaraki of repressing himself.

If he cared about Shigaraki at all, he would've protested when Gran told him he might have to kill Shigaraki. Instead:

He would've opposed the construction of something called a SKY COFFIN DEATH ARENA. He would've spoken up when Heroes talked strategy about how AFO is the better opponent to fight, implying that it's better if AFO had taken over Shigaraki, despite Shigaraki being the victim of AFO here.

Even when he ends up saving Tenko from Decaying the Shimuras, he's utterly lackluster there. Tenko's in tears, saying that he must have wanted to kill his family, he was born with a quirk like Decay, who could ever validate his existence the way he is??? And Deku's response? "Well. Holding my hand might make you feel better. So here." Saying something like, 'No, you're a child! It's not your fault!' or 'Your quirk isn't meant for harm, it can be useful too' or 'It's okay. You're not an evil existence' seems obvious, but Deku doesn't.

and really, all this has been obvious since the Mall Encounter in Chapter 69. Remember when Shigaraki point blank told him that All Might's smile is stupid because he acts like there's no one he can't save? And it's clearly full of resentment? And Deku picked up on this, which is why next chapter he asks All Might if it's true there are times where All Might couldn't save someone.

But once Tsukauchi said, don't worry about it, Deku did just that. When he does think about it one time, it's this absolutely nothing of a reflection

"I guess we just have to agree to disagree!" Come on. And this kid has a 'drive to save that eclipses all common understanding'??? for real?????

Deku has never given a crap about Shigaraki or Villains. Honestly, him wanting to save that sad little boy might as well be just Horikoshi putting lines in his mouth to move the story along.

If Deku really did care, I think he would've wanted to save the entire person that is Shigaraki. The Crying Child is a phantom - Shigaraki is real and solid and there. The Crying Child is innocent and easy to care about because it's a cute baby and it's openly weepy; saving hand-monster junji ito twink Shigaraki who laughs and talks about destroying everything Deku loves would've been an actual challenge. But clearly we couldn't have that because even the Crying Child was too far gone for Deku to save.

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Eight - What About The Party Princess?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

1.5K

The final chapter has arrived!! I can't believe we turned this from a long oneshot into a whole ass series

Series Masterlist

There was a knock at her door.

The Princess of Monaco stood from her sofa (which, like the rest of her apartment, had been tidy two days ago. But she'd fallen apart all over again after that) and strode towards it. She didn't check through the peep hole as she pulled open the door.

Immediately she shut it in his face.

He knocked again. "Come on, Princess! Open up!"

But she returned to her sofa and turned up the volume on her television. Tucking her legs beneath her, she ignored it as he continued to knock.

But Charles wouldn't stop. "What the fuck have I done?" He shouted as his fist kept pounding away.

Her building had security. She could have called the security guard to have him taken from the building, but she didn't. He could knock all he wanted, but she wasn't going to answer

It hadn't even been a fight, had it? You can't have a lovers quarrel when you're not lovers.

Had they really been dating, they probably would have made up. She would have let Charles into her apartment had he would have given her flowers. Still, she would have pouted at him as he took her into his arms, apologising as he kissed all over her face.

But they weren't really dating.

As far as Charles was aware, she had disappeared, hidden herself away from him. There were no new news articles on her or what she was doing. She'd dropped off the face of the earth.

The news, of course, was based on the king. Staff gave updates when they could, but there wasn't a lot that they could say. He was dying, that much was clear, and nothing could fix it.

The Princess of Monaco hadn't visited her father yet. She was aware of his health condition, but she couldn't bring herself to see him in that condition. No matter what Henri tried to get her to come to the palace, she wouldn't, couldn't.

She'd stopped answering her phone. Between Henri and Charles, it was constantly going off. So, she switched it off, placed it in the drawers beside her bed, and forgot about it.

And then the black car came to pick it up. She knew the black car with the royal crest on it, had been picked up several times in it from strangers houses. When it came, she had no choice but to climb into the back, sitting silently as they drover her to the place she had grown up.

Henri greeted her at the door. "Took you long enough," he said with something like a kind smile.

One she didn't return. The fact that she was there, that somebody had come to get her from her apartment, it had to mean something. Had to mean he was at the end of his life.

"How is he?" She asked, but she knew the answer already.

Henri had his hand on her shoulder as he guided her towards their fathers room. "Before we go in there, I need you to ready yourself," he said. "It's not a pretty sight, but he wanted to see you before he died."

She swallowed and nodded her head. She was ready.

He was small and frail, a shell of the man he once was. Seeing him hooked up to so many machines, she wasn't sure if she could do this. Before he could open his eyes, she turned on her heel to walk out of the room.

"There you are," her father said through a cough.

Sucking in a breath she turned back towards him and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. "Hey, dad," she said.

He reached for her hand and she took his. "Your brother tells me you're getting married," he said and turned away to cough into his other hand. "I'm glad. You've always worried me and I'm glad you're finally settling down with that driver."

Her face fell. Charles. He was talking about Charles. Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. But she sucked in a breath. If this was what her father needed to her before he died, she would tell him.

"Yeah, dad," she said, voice squeaking a little. "Yeah, I'm marrying him."

A sad smile passed over her fathers face. "Your brother is going to make a wonderful king," he said, eyes shutting. "I never wanted that burden for you, but Henri can handle it. He was born for this."

She squeezed his hand, but he didn't squeeze back. "What was I born for, papa?"

His hand was shaking as he raised it to her cheek. "To be my perfect little girl."

She couldn't stop herself from crying as she stood from the chair and ran out of the room. As soon as she was out in the hall, Henri had a hold of her, pulling her into his chest. "Why did you tell him about Charles?" She sobbed against his shoulder.

Henri shushed her, his fingers moving through her hair. "He needed to hear it," he said softly as he pulled her towards his office.

"No," she said as she got to the doors. "No, Henri, I don't want one of your fucking meetings," she cried and went to storm away.

Henri let her go.

She hadn't expected to go to her own room. But there she sat, on her bed, stuffed toys on the end of it facing her.

Why did her dad have to mention Charles? She had loved him. Even if she was bad at showing it, she had fallen for him. And now he wasn't even in her life. She hadn't thought about marrying him. No, it had been too early for that. They weren't even together, so how was she supposed to marry him?

Maybe that was why she searching up his name.

The Monaco Press was the first thing to show up on her phone. She should have known better than to click on anything written by The Monaco Press but the headline caught her attention.

What About The Party Princess?

Formula One driver Charles Leclerc hasn't exactly been shy about showing off his relationship with the party princess. Expensive dinners where they book out entire restaurants, taking her across the world and back with him, having her attend races.

It seemed as though the world was happy for them. Princess Y/N was finally thriving.

At least, according to what the couple let us see.

It had been a while since anybody saw Monaco's couple out and about together. This didn't seem like too big of a deal. They were busy people with their own lives still. We at The Monaco Press didn't think much of it.

Which is why we were all shock and a little heartbroken to see Charles Leclerc out to dinner with...

There was a knock at the door, pulling her attention away from her old laptop. Henri leaned against the door frame, eyes red with unshed tears. "Uh, the doctor said it should only be a matter of days," he said and wiped at his eyes. "I think you should stay here until he... goes."

"Hen-"

"Please," he begging, joining her on the bed. "For me."

Those few days at the palace were the worst of her life. Just waiting for death to come for her father. And it did. Three days after she'd told him she was marrying Charles Leclerc, he passed away.

His family had been gathered by his bedside. His wife was crying, his son crying with her. But not his daughter. She stared down at him as he took his final breath, hands shoved into her pockets.

A bitter and twisted feeling filled her. She'd lied to him. The last thing she'd said to her father was a lie, and she'd never get a chance to fix it. He'd been so proud when he thought she was going to marry Charles, but it hadn't been real. Pride born of a lie isn't really pride at all.

She went back to her apartment that night and cried. How could she be in the palace when her fathers body was there, when the staff was rushing around to make a statement and funeral arrangements?

She cried so hard that she threw up.

And, when she was finished, she pulled her phone out of the drawer and looked at her messages.

Only the ones from Charles, she couldn't looking at what Henri had sent to her before their father died.

Charles had sent her so many messages, given her so many chances. And she'd ignored all of them. But that final message. Oh, she was going to be sick all over again.

I can't do this when I love you, princess

All of this over something so fucking stupid. If she'd just let him in that night, she'd have him here now, comforting her as she cried. She'd be able to kiss him when she wanted, wouldn't have to read articles about him on dates with other girls.

Desperately she typed, sending several messages all at once, begging him for something. Forgiveness. Another chance. Something.

All of them were left undelivered.

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED) @biancathecool

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Taglist (OPEN): @charizznorizz

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[local-new-kid-super]

Little things the Freedom Pals do for a New Kid!Reader during and after a battle.

Part one with Raccoon and Friends: ☆here☆

@everythingwasnormalhere, this part two was inspired by your comment!

Professor Timmy:

☆ Professor Timmy can't often get to you in a timely manner if dangers coming your way, but he makes up for it with his stellar ability to communicate via his mind. It's a lot harder for someone like Tupperware or Wonder-Tweak to yell across the battlefield and be heard amidst the heat of battle. However, seeing as he speaks in your mind, it's infinitely easier for him to warn you of an incoming attack or a more strategic maneuver to take down enemies.

"On your left, New Kid! Brace for impact, I'll provide assistance shortly."

☆ Professor Timmy likes to let you in on his plans first, even letting you be one of the first to see his incredible franchise plan.

"This will be the end to our struggles, if only the Raccoon and Friends agree to your terms..."

Tupperware:

☆ He's got some pretty intense armor, so a lot like Captain Diabetes, he's willing to rake a few hits for you in the battlefield. Just... not too many, he doesn't want to bang up his mother's Tupperware.

"Watch out New Kid, coming through with the Tupperware tornado!"

☆ He doesn't have any food or snacks to share after the battle, given that he's wearing everything you'd usually store food in. Luckily, he's got money, so post-battle if you wanna hang out, he'll gladly head to an arcade or take you to the Dispensary/KFC.

"I'm hungry, you hungry, New Kid? Let's get outta here."

"Ey! I want KFC to you son of a bitch! New Kid, get back here!" Raccoon yells.

Wonder Tweak:

☆ He's usually too focused on... tweaking out during battle to actually worry about healing teammates, but he's on it once the heat of the battle has died down. He'll check on professor Timmy and the others, his anxiety getting the better of him once hes no linger focused on his own survival. He'll patch you up, and try to calm you with the things he remembers Craig telling him (though he'd rather not talk about his Raccoon and Friends counterpart right now.)

"I-its gonna be okay, ah! Hold still, I'm gonna put on this band-aid, a-ah! Get a snack to heal, UNLESS YOU'RE ALLERGIC?!"

☆ He understands the importance of a support system, so whether you're an ex-member of Raccoon and Friends or just joined because of the causes message, he makes sure you have a space in the Freedom Pals base. He's got a corner where he goes to de-stress, and it's his personal space to fix himself up post-battle. He'll drag an extra bean-bag chair over for you, and offer to let you hold Stripe if he's got him for the night.

"Ack, here. He's great for after a big f-fight, he can sense i-inner turmoil!"

Toolshed:

☆ He's got an eye on you, always prepared to help, but... in all honesty, he just likes to watch you. Whether you're fierce and powerful or a little more of an assist type, he's always impressed by your ability to hold your own. He's gets a little more than flustered, but in the heat of battle he's actually less worried about complimenting you, hoping you'll just write it off as team members cheering each other on.

"Yeah! Sock it to them, New Kid! I'm here for you- we're here for you. The-the team is here for you, the Freedom Pals are, not me specifically-"

"Toolshed, keep your hormones under control during the battle, we must stay focused." Professor Timmy says, immediately causing Toolshed to turn green and move across the battlefield as far as possible from you.

☆ Please don't ignore him for any of the other guys, he's knows his powers are more tool-based and a little more generic, but he's not gonna feel very good about himself if you follow around Mysterion or heaven forbid, a member of Raccoon and Friends. He's still upset about Kyle not switching over. In order to prevent this, he makes sure you know what a good choice it was to be a member of this franchise instead. He'll show off there awesome base, and constantly mention how well the team did in battle, all in the hopes of keeping you around.

"I bet you never won a battle that quick when you were a Raccoon friend, huh? Not that you couldn't, I mean cause you had shitty teammates! Like... like Kite..."

Mysterion:

☆ He's technically a member of the Freedom Pals, but more often than not he works alone. He's usually described as mysterious, or creepy, even brutal, but the number one word you can use to describe him is 👏 PROTECTIVE 👏! None of the many bad guys that stalk the streets of south park are gonna get the jump on you, don't worry.

"Hey asshole!" A growly voice comes out from the shadows as a pounding sound hits the alley dumpster. "Get ready to feel the swift, ribbed fist of justice!"

☆ He's quick to depart post battle, not taking time to celebrate. He's got real justice to go serve, but... ever since you joined the team, he's been more hesitant to rush off. Still, doesn't mean he's great at figuring out how to socialize amongst the team. He just kind of... stands in the shade under the staircase that leads into the basement and broods. He kinda hopes you think it's hot.

"Oh, hey. Just thinking about giving those mob assholes what's coming to them..." He bites his lip, brows furrowed under his cowl as he tries to come up with a conversation piece that's not as harsh or violent as he uses with others. "I uh- did I ever tell you I have a sister? I think you'd like her..."

[runnning-outof-time]

Hi K, congratulations on 3.5K once again!!!! Saw you reblogging your celebration post, reminded I hadn't sent anything in yet due to a busy schedule. Anyway, I'd like to request a blurb for John with the prompt number 10. ''Look at me.''

You're awesome. And hope you have an amazing week this week :)

Thanks so much for sending this in, Merel @twvstedsouls !! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

I Don’t Care What They Say

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 736

Summary: John hears what he needs the most after learning about (Y/N)’s parents’ opposition of their engagement.

“Why the long face, darlin’?” John Shelby asked his fianceé a few seconds after she entered the room he’d been sitting in. He immediately nodded the downcast expression that she was wearing and wasted no time getting to the bottom of what was bothering her.

“I don’t want to talk about it, John,” she answered with a sigh as she took her coat off and hung it up by the door. “It’s nothing, really. There’s not much that can be done about it. It’ll pass over.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if it’s got you looking like that. So what’s wrong?” he gently prodded her for the answer.

(Y/N) finally looked in his direction, and she stood still for a few moments, thinking on whether she should share the conversation she’d just had. John had an expectant look on his face, one that told her she wasn’t getting out of this so easy. So with a sigh, she dropped her gaze to the floor. It’d be easier for her to get it out if she didn’t see his reaction.

“My parents don’t agree with our engagement.”

The breath got stuck in John’s throat. It felt like the world had stopped for a moment as her words sunk into his mind. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of it. “What…what did they say?” he stumbled on his words, not sure if he wanted to hear more about it or not.

“They said that you’re no good for me. That I can find someone much better than you,” she answered, her heart breaking as she watched him process what she was saying. The words left such a bad taste in her mouth, and repeating them made her recount the long lecture her parents had given her about her choice.

John blinked a few times, trying to wrap his head around what her parents had said about their engagement. Thoughts started seeping in; ones telling him that he actually wasn’t good enough for her, and that she was going to heed to her parents advice. He dropped his eyes to the floor, swallowing thickly as he brought his hand up. He waved it around as he tried to think of what he wanted to say next. “And what do you say?…about our engagement,” he asked, squeezing his eyes shut for extra measure. He didn’t want to see her reaction.

If it wasn’t broken before, (Y/N)’s heart shattered at the sound of his voice as he forced his question out. She could tell that his mind was reeling; that he was fighting so hard to keep himself together. “Hey,” she called out, hoping to get his attention, but to no avail. “John. Look at me,” she continued, not wanting to say anything else without his eyes on hers. She wanted him to see how much she meant every word.

Slowly John lifted his eyes to meet hers again. He placed his hands on his knees, bracing himself for what would come next. It was in that moment that he wished he could be more like Tommy or Polly, so that he’d be able to read her expression and gain some clues from it.

After what felt like minutes of waiting, (Y/N) spoke again. “I don’t care what they say about our engagement. I’m marrying you, John Shelby,” she said, her words ringing out loud and clear. “They don’t have control over what I do. I’m old enough to make my own choices, and I choose you. I’m always going to choose you.”

“You are?” he just had to check, well aware that he sounded like a child in doing so.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I can’t wait to marry you. Nothing anyone says against it is going to change my mind.”

A breath of relief left John’s lips then, and all of the built up tension quickly resolved within seconds. “You have no idea how happy hearing you say that makes me, (Y/N),” he told her, shaking his head as a relieved smile formed on his face.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, John,” she countered, moving over to where he was sitting as a similar smile formed on her face. “Me and you…no one else matters.”

“No one else matters,” he repeated the ending of her statement, standing from his seat so that he could kiss her.

*tags in reblog so they hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

[darling-i-read-it]

Hi how are you? 😃 May I request some headcanons of RE characters (you choose, i can't choose because I like most of them 😅 ) with a reader who worked 13 days straight and has insomnia so they're pretty much in autopilot or zombie mode at the end of that but are more polite then usual? I hope I don't have to work that many days in a row again 😩

HI yes i can relate as someone who doesn't know how to say no to picking up shifts. my record is only ten days thought, rest in peace my love that sounds HORRIFIC. i chose some guys at random (along with chris and leon, my favorites lol) i hope you enjoy!

Chris Redfield

literally him too

this man has never known a good nights sleep since he was like 21 and even then it was kind of rocky

he has less sympathy because of it. to him it's kind of normal

he works like no one else has ever worked because he cares about his cause. it's a bit hard for him to understand that not everyone does in the case of work

he feels bad seeing you this way though and he knows it

he may have done it before but seeing you go through the zombie nature was affecting him now. you were his person, his safe spot, and you weren't safe

once the sympathy comes it doesn't leave

calls your boss!!!!

on your phone!!!

he's so scary. he's a scary big man. tall. big. large. so large.

they gave you three days off in a row actually

they also mentioned to not have your boyfriend call on your phone again because of professional reasons and it wasn't until then that you knew he even called

you were so out of it you hadn't checked your outgoing calls (and why would you?)

anything he can do to help, he will. just ask it of him.

The two of you sat in front of the TV. His arm was over your shoulder as you leaned against him, more comfortable now than you had been in weeks.

"You hungry?" he questioned, glancing down at you.

"I could eat."

"Anything specific?" You glanced up at him, meeting your eyes. He could read your look. You wanted him to go and get food. He narrowed his eyes, playfully. "It's late."

"I know. I'm being silly."

"Well I didn't say no."

Leon Kennedy

Leon is the most likely on this list to also have some sort of insomnia. He can't even talk against you either because he has the same exact issues

working too much, not sleeping enough

he drinks sometimes till he can't feel the effects of either

so who is he to say that you should go to bed or that working so much was destructive?

despite it being hypocritical, he sees the overall exhaustion within you

you're suddenly quietly polite, you have nothing in you to fight against him, even when he makes his normal banter and you don't return it

that's what really affected him. until you got rest, you could never really be back to him. your polite tired nature made him want to protect you. you were his, he couldn't let you go on like this

he showed up at your work

he didn't chew out your boss, no, he just 'brought you lunch' and then politely demanded that you be given two days off

he may have brought a weapon. it wasn't very good of him but then again, neither was having someone work 13 days straight

you promised him that you would do it for him next time

"What about when you go off to Japan for a month and I know you aren't sleeping?" you questioned. You sat in bed together, eyes heavy, no work in the morning.

"If you were in Japan I couldn't know if you were sleeping either," he pointed out.

"I feel like you would find a way." He smiled, that charming gentle smile. Comforting, homey.

"You're right. I would." You rolled your eyes.

Carlos Oliveira

was a fierce advocate for you taking a day off and is mid contact with your boss

he doesn't care if it was your choice. he really doesn't. he loves but you but damn if he won't let you go through that again

you're so quiet that it scares him sometimes. the life in your eyes is just barely there

he is a bit of a workaholic himself sometimes but he knows how to take breaks. he prides himself in being able to separate himself from that when he can

he tries to lull you to sleep (like you don't know what he's trying to do)

you're stubborn and he knows this and you're also far too tired to admit how tired you actually are

the kind of boyfriend to give you tea and hope it does the trick. to give you massages, make you listen to him talk so much that hopefully you'll fall asleep in his lap

he adores you to pieces. he really does. how can he bear to see you like this?

it's like you're a zombie and not the bad kind. he wanted you to spend the whole day in bed and again, he will call your boss on your behalf, he'll pay for the rent if he can, he doesn't care

he'll do whatever he can to save you from the fate of another awful night like that

His hand massaged your shoulders as you sat together on the couch. You had been silent for a while and although it used to worry him, he was just happy to have you beside him.

"No work tomorrow," he mentioned quietly.

"Don't talk about work," you whispered. He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Sorry." You looked at him at your side. "I think I might lock you in the bedroom so you can get some sleep."

"You know that's not how that works," you whispered, though you smiled at the gesture anyway.

"It's how it should work."

Ethan Winters

Ethan understands better than most how hard it can be to let things slide

he knows that working sometimes helps. it helps the silence in his head when all he can focus on is that he's so tired and the has to work

because he understands, he also has a certain degree of protection he has over you

he knows what it feels like to be unable to feel his eyelids anymore because they're so heavy

the very second you have off he demands that you stay inside

he would rather you be laying down and not moving for a while if he could stand it, allowing you to bask in the quietness

he would make you promise him that you would try your hardest to sleep because he thought that once exhaustion came over you it would be too hard not to

he wanted to tell you about how hard it was for him after the Baker house to sleep because he had so many bad memories that he didn't want to relive

he tries to relate to you about that. he wants you to know that sometimes his bed is a demon in and of itself

insists you take time off afterwards. he doesn't care how it happens but you need a day of rest and that's final

"They'll probably need me in sooner," you admitted, quietly. He shook his head over dinner. He had made it for you that night, happily, some of your favorite foods.

"Two days minimum," he said.

"You're not my boss Ethan," you told him honestly but he shook his head. He was having none of it.

"You should quit."

"I know. But I can't."

"I know," he hummed, shaking his head. "Two days. Two. In a row."

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 6 of 6 Final Chapter and Epilogue)

Bonus smut chapter is complete - making final edits now 💕

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

🪄 Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, fighting, ownership kink, mention of drugs, stabbing, murder, major character trauma, pet names.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ “You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? ✨

Reader’s POV:

You roll into the parking lot, unable to fight back your smile. The week was long, but the phone conversations with Rafe held you over just enough. The jail in Charleston wasn’t as lax as Kildare County. Understandably, Rafe did not want to push his limits, leaving the phone conversations shorter than you’d hoped they’d be. Until Rafe was out and everything was taken care of, he didn’t want you to leave the penthouse, which meant no face-to-face visits, leaving you craving him even.

Rafe ensured you were taken care of: additional security, groceries sent over, dinner brought by every night, fresh-cut flowers when he thought the old ones had wilted. Rafe had the G-Wagon scrubbed and triple-checked for any additional trackers placed or bugs planted.

He paid a hefty fee to have the cops delete a single recorded call between the two of you. Rafe wanted to know what happened the night he had gotten taken away by the officers. He wanted to know what Tony had said in the voicemail, and what happened between the restaurant and the penthouse. Everything was awful, but the voicemail conjured up the most fury. Rafe dissected each word, dragging Tony; your ex’s vile words just added fuel to the fire, like he needed any more. Rafe was very conscious with his words, careful not to incriminate himself further, emphasizing the importance of the business meeting, and that he was looking forward to it even more now.

Of course, given the situation, you couldn’t ask about Tony. His well-being wasn’t the concern, just curiosity. Where was he? Where did Barry take him? It’s been seven days… He must be well-hidden, or his boys would have found him by now. There’s no way he’s dead… Rafe would never allow Barry to take that pleasure away from him.

A conversation— it’s never a conversation with these men, even more satirical after watching how the first one unfolded. If Tony had been there, this would have been over. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I’m sure Rafe has a few things he wants to say to Tony before he pulls the trigger. There are so many things I want to say to him. I wish I could have been strong enough to take the call at the bar. His words have done nothing but haunt me. But maybe I was meant to hear it too… Any fraction of guilt I had about my choices were eliminated in an instant.

The door of the jail fans open, just like it did the week before; Rafe all smiles once again. He bites his lip as he walks to you, taking you in like it's the very first time. Rafe shakes his head in awe as he looks down at you, clearing the space between as you do the same. You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his neck. He kisses wherever he can, mumbling against your soft skin about how you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen and feelings mutual. Seeing the beautiful man before you, paired with all the lovely things he did brings nothing but tears and emotion. “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much,” you snivel.

“Mmm…” He hums happily, taking his turn kissing up the column of your neck to your ear. “I love you, princess.”

You pull back and smile, eyes locked. His ocean eyes shimmer with happy tears as well. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, his focus like a magnet pulling you in. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as he cradles you in his embrace. Rafe backs you against the car, deepening the exchange. Your tongue swirls with his, lips moving in perfect harmony. He smiles along your mouth, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Damn, I missed my girl.”

Rafe grips the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your bare thigh. His gold chain twinkles on his athletic chest, poking slightly out of his black fitted polo. It had taken everything in your power not to pull him into the back seat after watching him change out of the button-down he walked in with, still sprinkled with blood from the club. He looks at you with a smirk, catching you gawking, loving every second of your attention. “It’ll be a short meeting. Aight? Think you can wait?” He teases, making your cheeks warm up as you fight back a dizzy laugh.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You take his hand in yours, lifting it, kissing his fingers one by one. “I still have to thank you, baby.”

Rafe releases a lusty laugh, relaxing in his leather seat a little more. “Trust me, princess. I have not forgotten. I've thought about it every night. But, a ‘thank you’ is not necessary… I love takin’ care of you, and I always will.” The car speeds past the town’s welcome sign, barreling toward the Atlantic.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“You’re droppin’ me off at the beach house, baby. You can head over to Tanneyhill. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, and we can get out of here. How does that sound?” He smiles. You clear the lump in your throat, trying to focus on the question Rafe is asking, but your mind is fixated on the rest of his words. Rafe wants me to leave? “Baby?” he asks gently. 

“I’m dropping you off…” You question uneasily. “Don’t you want me to come with you? Don’t you need me close by?”

The muscles in Rafe’s arms flex as he tightens his hand around the steering wheel, shaking his head ‘no’ as he narrows his sights on the road. “I don’t want you to see this, princess,” he responds levelly, his eyes landing on yours.

“Couldn’t Barry take care of him?” You invite without thinking. Rafe’s brows knit tightly, a puzzled look pulling on his beautiful face.

“No… Why, baby?” He asks, trying his best to keep his compass on the road ahead.

“I don’t know,” you answer hastily. “I just don’t - I don’t know.” Your stomach sinks, uneasiness setting in. After everything that Tony has done and said, he’s better off dead, but thinking about him dying at the hands of Rafe mere minutes from now had your heart racing. I can't help but think about the fact that he bamboozled Rafe not once but twice. He would have walked into an ambush at the strip club without me there… He had no clue the drugs were planted in the Mercedes. “I don’t know!”

“What don’t you know, exactly?” He asks as he pulls up to the beach house, sailing into the driveway, pulling between a vintage BMW and the white van that Tony got taken away in. Rafe turns toward you, demanding your attention. “Are you having second thoughts about this?” He questions, his words dripping with accusation.

“No!” You gasp. “I - I just. I don’t know, Rafe. I’m just freaking out. Okay?” You whimper as tears start to cloud your vision, your anxiety about the situation making your mind muddled.

“Do you want him to live?” He asks. It’s hard to place his tone; Rafe at the junctions between perplexed and agitated, his frustration with you clear in his body language alone.

“Of course I don’t. I want this to be over with,” you blubber.

”So do I, princess. And we talked about this before. It’s not going to be me and you if he’s here. Do you want it to be me and you-”

”Yes!” You cry out before he can even finish his sentence.

“Don’t think about it then, Aight? Let me handle business. This is why I don’t want you in there. I don’t want this on your conscience. I want to handle this for you. And we will never talk about this again. Okay?” You nod in silent agreement, but he shakes his head ‘no’. “Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Rafe leans in, kissing you softly. You cup his cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along the stubble that’s grown on his face since confinement. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rafe, but things keep goin’ wrong. Tony keeps getting in the way. I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

He melts into your touch, looking at you with adoring eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. And he’s not gonna hurt me. All right? He’s strapped to a chair. He has been for a week. This is just a matter of me lookin’ him in the eyes and letting him know that he will never get to hurt you again. Yeah?”

“Okay, baby,” you breathe as Rafe catches your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay… I love you too, baby.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Once I close this door, I want you to drive. Understand?” He asks as he opens up the navigation on your phone, pulling up the address to his home in Figure Eight. “Remember what happened last time I told you to leave but you stayed an extra two minutes. You gotta listen to me,” he asserts.

“I’ll listen.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” you whisper.

Rafe grabs the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open before walking around the front, helping you to your feet. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the other side. He hugs you tightly, pressing kisses on your forehead and cheeks before landing on your lips, kissing you one last time.

“Just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Not this time. I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Your hand holds his as he steps away until your fingers lose contact. Rafe reaches behind his back just as he did the night you walked into the club, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband before falling out of sight. You step into the driver’s seat, wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, still warm from Rafe. You grab the shifter, putting it in reverse, fighting against the impulse to wait in the wings ‘til he handles business, just in case he needs to flee. This man gives and gives. He has barely asked me for anything in return. Just leave. You roll out of the drive, pressing down on the gas.

Rafe’s POV:

“Barry?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls of the beach house. Rap music swells from the basement, the dank smell of weed hazing the place. My aggravation starts to mount; a SOLO cup crushes under the heel of my dress boot, just one of many. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans litter the counter, takeout food strewn across the tables, thongs, stripper heels, and a few stray lines of coke left cut on the counter. “I’m gonna kill him,” I curse his name under my breath as I bound toward the basement door.

I tug it open, my heart plunging as I see a pool of blood gathered on the floor. Shit. I catch my gun, heart banging as I race down the flight. “Oh, fuck… No. Sh-Shit. Barry?” I stutter as I run toward him, his white tank top drenched crimson red. His dark eyes lift momentarily, falling heavy the next. I catch his shallow breathing, leaning in close as he tries to mumble out a few words, quelled in blood.

“Tony?” I ask, watching as he gives me the slightest nod. This blood is fresh. He’s here.

BANG.

I draw my gun again as the door at the top of the stairs bangs shut. Here we go… I sprint toward the wall, half-hidden, listening to his heavy steps as they move closer and closer.

“You hidin’ from me, Cameron?” Tony’s voice cuts through the hush. “That was an awful lotta coke. You come to pay up? Or, did you just come to take somethin’ else from me?” He booms as he steps out, footing right past me.

He looks like shit. His white button-down shirt tattered and bloodied on his large body; Tony’s donning the same worn-in beard as me after his week of imprisonment in the basement. The fucker got the shorter end of the stick apparently, beaten to the edge of death, Barry doing all but killing the bitch.

I check his hands, breathing a sigh of relief; no gun. I adjust my mine as I see a weapon, however, a large kitchen knife clutched in his massive hand. End this. I find his head in my crosshairs, aiming my pistol at his skull, gritting my teeth, battling with the rational part of my brain that’s tellin’ me to fire. The irrational part of my mind yearning to feed my pride and tell him everything I wanna say for her… Tony bends around, smiling with blood-stained teeth. Shit.

“You gonna shoot, Cameron? Or you gonna just stand there like a pussy,” Tony spits.

“We got some shit we need to talk about first. Hmm?”

“You wanna talk about my girl-“

“My girl,” I stop him as I step a little closer, making him shake his head in disbelief, snickering cruelly as he looks back at me.

“Yours? Your girl? Since when exactly. ‘Cause she never said shit to me. Do you honestly think that she loves you? Are you that fuckin’ stupid?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves, preparing for a fight.

“I know she loves me,” I grunt as I square up with him.

“You think she’d leave me? It was our plan for you to die at the club. She knew it. I knew it. You were just supposed to walk in.”

”You’re lyin’,” I spit.

“Am I?” He smiles again— that same wicked and crazed smile; punch-drunk after a week of torture. “You know I’m not, Rafe.”

“You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? You think I believe you you’d actually let me fuck-”

”ENOUGH!” He thunders, his loud, deep voice making my muscle tense up. “Don’t finish that FUCKING sentence. Because how hard you make this is how hard she's gonna get it after I KILL you. You understand?”

“You can't even let me finish the sentence, Marietta. You can’t even let the words leave my lips,” I chuckle. “Ya know, about fuckin’ “your” girl, on the couch of your club? That same couch you fucked some stripper on. You think I believe that you’d actually let that happen? She ain’t in on this, Tony. This is you losin’ her and settin’ me up.” He steps closer and so do I, the pair of us level-eyed.

“I’m not lyin’. That women would do anything for me. And, at the end of the day, even if I am lyin’, she’d only want you for your money, Cameron. I’m man enough to admit you got more than me— new money and old money in your pocket. She saw an opportunity and took it. She’s either in on this or in it for the cash.”

“She’s not after my money,” I mumble as I try to keep my emotions at bay. “She’s not in on shit.”

“‘Course she is… Your head is just too far up your ass to see what’s really goin’ on around you. N’let’s just say my baby isn’t in on this with me and she just after your money and she finds someone else with more, buddy, you’re fucked. ‘Cause if you get what you came here for and you kill me, everything in my name goes to her: all of the hard earned money that I made that she loves to spend, the club, the law firm, my cars, my jewelry, my homes. Everything that I have she takes from me. And she knows that. You gotta see what’s goin’ on here. Right?” He asks as he looks back at me like I'm stupid.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He chuckles. “You know before your boys picked me up, I was on the way to fuck my girlfriend in that pretty little penthouse you bought her. She even sent me a few pictures in that pretty pink lingerie. You know, the one she was describin’ for you on the phone? Fuck, Rafe. You should see it on her. My princess doesn’t just talk a big game. She knows how to fuck,” he sneers as he catches me battling my emotions. “Why don’t you go look at my phone. Pretty sure it’s in his pocket. You can see for yourself.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door crack at the top of the stairs—one step then another, as the person at the top creeps down. No. No. Tony hears it as well, the man looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Guess who’s here, Cameron,” he whispers. “Princess?” Tony softens his tone with her, the sound of y/n’s slight feet stopping in a flash.

Was this her plan all along?

I scrunch my nose; eyes burning with tears of deceit and rage. There’s no way the story he’s spinning is true. If he kills me, and he’s lying, what will happen to her? I can’t take that risk.

I shove him hard, making him stumble back, kicking him with the heel of my dress shoe square in the chest before he can rise back up to his feet, sending him and the knife to the ground. I hear her soft gasp; her feet quickly clearing the rest of the steps. “Don’t move, y/n,” I bark back at her.

“Rafe?” She whimpers, making me look over my shoulder. The second I do the air flees my lungs, Tony’s big body tackling me to the floor. My skull ricochetes off the hardwood floor; eyes slamming shut in pain, losing my gun in the process. I overpower him, rolling him to his back, grabbing his shoulders I lift him slightly, bashing his head against the ground again and again making him scream out in pain.

He scratches and claws at my face and shirt as I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing with all my might. "Not so easy to fight a man. Huh?" I hiss.

"F-Fuck you," he stammers as he throws a rough punch, meeting my jaw. I respond with four of my own. The connections, direct and brutal, the dried blood on his face replaced with fresh blood as his body starts to go limp.

Finally.

I stare down at him, lifeless, one with the floor, his breathing almost nonexistent. I draw my hand back, slapping him across the face, his head snapping to the side; body unresponsive to the pain. I drag myself to my feet, stumbling across the living room for my gun. An execution. This ends right here. Right now.

My chin trembles with adrenaline and emotion as I try to get his words out of my head. There’s no way she was in on this all along. Everything she shared with me, the things she said to me, the things we did… That was real. She's here ‘cause she was worried. She's here ‘cause her intuition was right. She's here for me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart sinks, the rapid bounding of Tony’s feet stopped almost as soon as it start. It’s quiet, wet gurgling and a soft whimpers are all that remains. I turn around, facing Tony but his eyes aren’t on me. He looks down at his chest, the bloodied tip of carboned steel poking out from his chest. He falls to his knees before me, y/n standing behind him in shock, watching as he tumbles face-first on the floor.

She looks up at me, eyes filled to the brim with tears. I run to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her body close as she clings to me for dear life.

I haven't let her go since. It wouldn't feel right. I hold her, watching as the sun sets in the east; a blood-red sky, painted across the Atlantic. The last sliver of the golden sun dips below the horizon. I kiss her gently on her cheek, down the soft flesh on her neck to the dip on her shoulder before resting my chin on top. “Are you okay, baby,” she whispers. I rest my hands on the top of hers, pressing my chest against her back as we both look over the edge of the yatch, watching the black water swell below.

“M’perfect, princess,” I whisper as I nuzzle into her neck. “Are you okay.”

“I am,” she whispers, “because of you. Thank you...”

“Thank you,” I mumble as she melts into me. “I needed you. I can't believe you did that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers as she turns, resting her hands against my chest, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I know him. I know Tony probably filled your head with lies but I promise, none of it’s true.”

“I know,” I assure as I cup her cheeks in my hands, guiding her soft lips to mine. “This is almost over and from here on out it’s just you and I.”

“You and I,” she echoes. I kiss her forehead and her lips before pulling away.

“Stay here. M’serious.” She nods submissively, falling back as I move foward. I shuffle across the main deck, grabbing the rail, walking down the small flight of stairs to the carport before raising the hatch. I reach behind my back, pulling out my 9mm, opening the trunk.

There he lies, Tony Marietta. I smile as he lifts his eyes, matching mine; the bloodied knife already laying by his side. I take the gun, pressing it against his temple, tilting my head slightly to keep his eyes on me. “M’so glad you’re alive for this… I could make this fast,” I whisper. “But after all the shit you did, I’m gonna have you dyin’ nice and slow. Too bad I don't get to watch.” He goes to speak but all that comes out is a thick trail of blood. “I know what you're gonna say… Don’t worry. I’m gonna do what you couldn’t. I’m gonna take care of her. And that's a promise.” I toss my gun inside before slamming the trunk.

Moving to the front I step inside, firing up the engine before shifting it into neutral. I give the vintage ride a little push, the pull of the yacht sending the tires rolling. I follow the car as it plunges into the deep, dark waters, the depth snuffing out the headlights ‘til all that’s left is blackness.

Goodbye, Tony.

Epilogue

One year later…

Reader’s POV:

You roll up to Tanneyhill, flooding the big driveway with light after a late night shift at the Country Club. It’s mine now and business is booming; a new staff with increased security. Rafe took it upon himself to turn it from the dive it once was to a luxury experience, all for me. Of course I clean his money, the perfect front. Anything for my man. Stepping out of the car you make your way up the cobblestone walk to the front door, passing the bay window, watching as Rafe shuffles by in a black button down, resting two plates of food down on the table.

“Knock. Knock,” you sing as you open the door with a smile, matching Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes making him return the same.

“Babygirl,” he croons as he walks closer, helping you out of your jacket before, swathing his strong arms around you waist, looking down at you lovingly.

“Welcome home. Happy Anniversary,” you coo as you rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til next week.”

He smiles against your lips, recalling his initial plan, the pair of you knowing there was no way he was gonna miss this day, even if it meant flying home from Morocco for one night only. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that, princess,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “I got your favorite.”

Rafe takes your hand, leading you to the dining room, pulling out your chair, directing you to sit. You look across the table seeing all of your favorite things; the meal, the flowers, wine. Little candles glint in the middle of the table, adding to the ambiance as he runs you a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, the first bottle of wine you shared on your very first night together.

"You look stunning," Rafe praises, lifting his glass to his lips, sipping slowly as his eyes drink you in.

"And you look very handsome, Rafe Cameron," you hum, resting your hand on the thigh of his Armani suit.

"You know baby, you’ve been working too hard. Are you free this week?” He asks, knowing the answer is ‘no’, but that’s not the reply he’ll get. If he’s asking you to go somewhere he’s already worked everything out for you.

"I’m always free for you, baby."

"Mhmm… Barry and his girl are gonna watch the club so you can come to Morocco with me. How does that sound?”

“So nice… You’re so good to me,” you sigh blissfully as you grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him to your lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

"Mmm… Yeah? Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how much you love me? We can see what happens next,” he chuckles warmly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby. You know I have no problem taking you right here,” you smile, the blonde smirking as he recalls what happened the morning before he left.

“You are so good to me,” he corrects you. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're mine. I hope you feel that.”

"I'm so happy I'm yours," you smile, spreading a little wider. “Of course, I feel that.”

"You deserve to have the very best, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy, and safe, and loved.” He leans in closer to you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I do… You’re perfect, Rafe.”

“I’m not, princess. But I wanna be for you,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. Your brows rumple as his mood shifts from flirty and light-hearted to serious. His eyes always look bluer when he’s on the verge of tears, yet, his smile contradicts it all. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

“Mhmm,” he hums and nods as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a blue box.

"Oh my gosh! Rafe Cameron,” you gasp. “It's too much.”

"It's not, princess," he smiles softly. You reach for the box, but he keeps it in his hand, using the other to brush the tears out of his eyes.

"Rafe... Are you okay?" You whisper as you cup his cheek in your hand. He shuts his eyes, relishing in your touch, leaning into you slightly. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

"I’m perfect, baby.” He whispers weakly. "Umm... I'm not sure how I'm this in love with you, baby. But I am. And, at this point, I genuinely can't remember a time when I wasn't. Every night since I saw you I fall asleep with you on my mind, and I wonder if you're doing the same. I can't even comprehend losing you, or someone hurting you. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it a million times I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me and that includes your heart too. It's you, princess. It's fucking you. I can't describe it any more than that. You are the only person I want and will ever want. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved. And since I've met you, sweetheart, you've always been that person. My girl. I can't love anyone else. And, I don't want to. So, with that being said. Y/n, will you marry me?" Rafe moves from the chair, dropping down to one knee, pulling open the box, the Tiffany engagement ring, resting in the center.

Your eyes widen, hand covering your bright, ecstatic smile. "Yes!" You squeal in delight, making Rafe let out a happy chuckle as he glides the jewelry on your finger.

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, Rafe! Oh my gosh. I thought it was a necklace," you gasp as you eye the ring on your finger.

"I figured, when you tried to take it from me. I got nervous," he laughs warmly, guiding you to his lips. You smile against his kiss, Rafe doing the same.

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”

Bonus smut chapter 💕

Thank you so much for reading my short story! I hoped you enjoyed it 💕🩷

Miski 🩷

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[utilitycaster]

Hi! Because I genuinely do love your take on things and every time I read through them, a new perspective that I had never even considered before makes itself known to me. So, I wanted to ask! Since Twitter (unsurprisingly) already got its hands on this discussion:

What are your feelings on the Mighty Nein being the ones to handle the Weave Mind over Bells Hells? Because for me, I always sort of knew that BH were going to be the ones to defeat Ludinus no matter what. It’s what they’ve been building up for.

However, some people say the M9 aren’t deserving of handling the Weave Mind because that was an antagonist made specifically for the Bells Hells. So, I was interested in seeing your thoughts about this (strange) discussion.

Hi anon, thanks!

I think it's great to have the Nein go after the Weave Mind, and I think, like most takes from the Twitter CR fandom, this is fucking stupid.

Given that Matt is the DM, and he's like "hey, I'm going to have a Trusted NPC call in the Mighty Nein to deal with the Weave Mind" I think the argument that the Weave Mind was made specifically for Bells Hells is not, in fact, true. The Weave Mind is an antagonist who was introduced with Bells Hells' campaign, rather like how Ludinus Da'leth is an antagonist who was introduced with the Mighty Nein's campaign and who has been the nemesis of Beau and Caleb in particular, and yet Bells Hells will be going after him in this scenario (and, to be clear, I think this is fine; I've expected Bells Hells to face off against Ludinus in the end).

I would be interested in understanding if the motivation here is "I wish the Nein were going after Ludinus and Bells Hells were going after the Weave Mind" which I think is far less interesting given that Ludinus has been such a consistent enemy of Bells Hells as well but at least I can puzzle out a not terribly intelligent but consistent sort of logic in it; or if this is a "I wish the past two parties weren't involved in this campaign at all" argument in which case, far too late for that; or if this is someone who specifically doesn't like the Mighty Nein throwing yet another tiresome and embarrassing temper tantrum on Twitter. But my opinion doesn't change; I think it's far more satisfying to see Bells Hells take on Ludinus than the Weave Mind, whom half of them haven't even met.

More generally, the idea of "doesn't deserve to fight the Weave Mind" is stupid on another level. I understand why people talk about which actual play character they wish to get the final blow on a particular enemy, even though dice will ultimately decide this. When it lines up - Vax with Thordak, Yasha with Obann - it's immensely satisfying. But you do not need to be the most wronged person to make meaning of a How Do You Want To Do This (FCG and Otohan being an obvious case here). Technically, the Volition deserves to fight the Weave Mind more! Half of Bells Hells hasn't even encountered the Weave Mind in any capacity! Braius and Dorian haven't been to the moon! Sometimes, you're fighting because it's part of, for example, a three-pronged plan that needs three separate simultaneous strike forces. Bells Hells can't do all three at once despite having claims to each of the targets unless they split up. Would you rather the parties split up in a mix of each? Because I'm not opposed per se but that could get pretty confusing all around. And if we're going to step out of the Watsonian argument that in-world, they can't do all three at once, see my next paragraph to address the Doylist "but Matt didn't need to set it up this way" one.

I am on the record as loathing the whole "it's their table and you can't criticize it because it's their game" bullshit. You can do so. You can do so even if there are very good reasons for their choices. You're always entitled to your own opinion and as long as you're not harassing people, it is morally neutral to say "this piece of fiction/art/whatever didn't do it for me," end of sentence. With that said. It's fine if people wish Campaign 3, like Campaigns 1 and 2, were more exclusively focused on one party's adventures rather than the all-hands-on-deck story that it is. But it is that story, and pretending this wasn't the result of a number of intentional choices by Matt and the cast and various collaborators is profoundly stupid at this point. I had my complaints as well, early on, but the time to get over this was episode 1, when Orym and Fearne and Dorian and Bertrand showed up with their ties to EXU and C1. Or it was episode 6, when Laudna revealed her connection to Delilah. Or episode 35, when that connection to Keyleth was leveraged. Or episode 50, when Beau and Caleb appeared; or Episode 51, when multiple past PCs were present at the solstice; or Episode 66, when we further met with Keyleth; or Episode 86, when Sending came back on and both Caleb and Jester spoke to the party; or Episode 92, when we cut back to the Crown Keepers; or Episode 94, when Essek showed up; or Episode 99, when Downfall began. If you're still holding on hope now in the endgame, I think it's too late. That's not the campaign this is, and it never was, and you can wish that you had something more self-contained like Campaign 1 or 2 but with Bells Hells, but that's all it is - a wish, unfulfilled.

[harunayuuka2060]

Floyd: Goldfishie~ Let's go to the cuddle room together~.

Riddle: I'm not sharing a cuddle session with you, Floyd!

Azul: Unfortunately, there will be no cuddle sessions today and we are asked to go by groups to save time.

Azul: Oh. And I almost forgot.

Azul: How come you're outside today, Idia?

Idia: W-Well... Ortho insisted that I go.

Azul: Oh really?

Floyd: Come on now, Goldfishie~.

Riddle: I said, I'm not going with you!

Professor Crewel: *walking towards them, holding a puppy* You puppies, behave.

Azul: Hm? Have you adopted a new dog, Professor Crewel?

Professor Crewel: Yes. But he has been given to me by our professional cuddler.

Professor Crewel: And you'll be receiving one as well.

Azul, Idia, Riddle, and Floyd: Huh?

Professor Crewel: Oh. My bad. You're not be receiving puppies, but an animal of your choice.

Professor Crewel: Isn't that right, Mr. Sprinkles?

Mr. Sprinkles: Ruff! *wagging his tail*

Professor Crewel: I'll see you later in class, boys. *then walks away*

Riddle, Idia, Azul, and Floyd: ...

Floyd: Who wants to race to the cuddle room?

Idia: Sorry to say this, but I'll be the first one to get there. Mweehee~.

Floyd and Idia: *got first to the cuddle room*

Floyd: I'm here for my cuddle animal~!

Idia: Please! I want to have a cat!

MC: *chuckles* Calm down. Let's wait for Riddle and Azul to come here first.

Riddle and Azul: We're here!

Idia: You two are so slow.

Azul: Excuse me?! You started a race!

Riddle: And it didn't help us that other students were blocking our path.

Idia: Excuses.

Riddle and Azul: *getting mad at him*

MC: No fighting.

Riddle and Azul: *immediately calms down*

MC: Let's all get settled first while I prepare for your cuddle animals.

Floyd: Yay~! What's mine? Is it huge? Is it cute?

Idia: Is it fluffy?

MC: *chuckles* Please wait here while I get them.

MC: Here they are. *carrying four fluffy creatures all in round shape*

Riddle, Floyd, Azul, and Idia: ...

Floyd: *frowning a little* What is that?

MC: These are your cuddle animals.

Azul: I don't want to sound rude, but... All we could see are four, large cottonballs.

Idia: What a downer...

MC: *chuckles* Is it? Well, these cuddle animals will take form once touched by their owners. And once they have their own form, that will be their permanent appearance.

MC: Riddle? Would you mind trying it for yourself first?

Riddle: Me? Oh. Of course. *walks up to them*

MC: *hands Riddle one of the fluff balls*

Riddle: And what will I do here?

MC: A few seconds now.

Riddle: Huh?

Poof!

Riddle: *is now holding a bunny*

Riddle: ...

Riddle: It's so cute...

MC: Right? And since they're cuddle animals. Their main food is your aura. And if you're in a bad mood, they'll have your angry aura as their dessert.

Riddle: Oh... That's amazing.

Azul: Indeed. Though, are they all land animals?

MC: These cuddle animals will take form in every types of animals in the world. Even the mystical ones.

Idia: Speaking of mystical ones, didn't we just see Malleus hugging a small dragon?

Floyd: Yeah. So... If I want mine to be a sea serpent, that's also possible?

MC: Yes. If and only if, that's what your subconsciousness desire.

Idia: My subconsciousness wants a cat. I'm sure of that.

Azul: I'm excited to know mine.

The students: *all being happy with their cuddle animals*

Professor Trein: Look at them acting like little children.

Professor Trein: I wish I could have myself a cuddle animal, however, Lucius will sure be jealous.

MC: Lucius is already perfect for you, Professor Trein.

Professor Trein: Indeed he is.

Professor Trein: Though I've been meaning to ask. What made you to decide to give students such adorable companions?

MC: Well, I've noticed that not all students could go to the cuddle room. That's why I've decided to extend the service that I offer.

Professor Trein: You're so kind.

MC: *chuckles, then looking at the students* *smiles* Not at all, sir. I'm only just doing my job.

Professor Trein: *smiles* Of course.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Seven Days to Fall Again | Monday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary: Dinner and a Breakup. You're ready to end things but Jungkook asks for a second chance, not willing to let you go. Paring: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: No real warnings honestly just an argument. Start from the beginning

I watch from outside the restaurant window, seeing as he has already been seated and has ordered his favorite wine along with what I can assume is mine right across from his. 'You got this. It's better for the both of us if we just end things here and go our separate ways' I coach myself, hoping to gain some sense of resolve to help carry me through this dinner and do what I've been meaning to do for a while now.

As soon as I grab the handle I see that I've finally caught his eye and he stands up waiting patiently for me to come sit down with him. "There you are" he says with a warm smile and goes to give me a quick kiss to which I turn away a bit, making his lips ultimately land on my cheek. He pull away, giving me a questioning look and I make quick excuses, not wanting to start a fight right away. 

"Lipgloss, sorry. I know you don't like the feeling of it on your lips after kissing me" I say giving his as genuine of a smile as I can muster up, given the circumstances. "I don't really mind it," he says giving me a kiss on my forehead this time instead, "but thank you for telling me anyways" he says with his hands on my cheeks looking at me lovingly, placing a quick pec on my lips before he leads me over to my chair and pulls it out for me to sit down. 

"I thought you had forgotten about me" he teases while he walks back around to sit back down. "Traffic was horrible and I lost track of time" I say taking a quick swig of my wine, praying the alcohol hits my system as fast as possible. Needing what they always refer to as 'liquid courage' to help take the edge off. "Slow down love, let's get some food in you before you start on that" he says, his brows pinched together in confusion. Clearly puzzled as to what might be causing this sudden change in character.

"I just forgot how much I love this wine" I say taking another big gulp, not paying attention to maintaining a lady like image until this alcohol mellows my senses. "We can pick some up whenever you like Noona" he says amused but still concerned at my sudden excitement in my poison of choice as some might say. 

After having what is now my temporary fill of my wine Jungkook suggests we order so the alcohol doesn't hit me too hard, both of us knowing how messy I can get a times but not really voicing it. "Do you know what you'd like to order?" he asks, trying to maintain some sort of conversation between us. "I'm not too sure, I'm trying to decided between these two an-" "Are you ready to order?" our waiter asks while also taking the liberty of refilling our glasses. 

"I think we'll need another minute or so" Jungkook answers for the both of us. "Oh it's okay I think I know what I want now" I say butting in before the waiter leaves. "Oh no that's okay honey we can take an extra second for you to think a little more" he says waving off the waiter, disregarding what what I had said and making the choice for me. 

"Okay" I say dragging out the last syllable a bit and mumbling that I was ready and will order the same thing no matter how much time he thinks I need under my breath. "What was that love?" he questions, catching onto how my demeanor has changed a bit. "Nothing don't worry about it" I say and go back to scanning the menu.

Once the waiter has taken our order Jungkook decides to start asking me about my day. "It was okay, I wasn't too busy at work so it was kind of boring" I reply, giving somewhat of a vague answer but not enough for him to get suspicious. I decide to ask him about his day in turn so he can ramble off for a bit while I try to figure out how to go about this. 

"Jungkook" I say grabbing his attention after he's spoken for a while, cutting him off. He hums in acknowledgment, not bothered at my sudden interruption. But before I'm able to say anything else our food is brought out to our table.

"Was there anything else I could get you?" the waiter asks cutting off the conversation for a moment, another interruption by him added to the tally. "Oh no that's okay I think we're fine" Jungkook answers again for both of us before checking in with me and once again the waiter is sent on his way.

"Now what were you saying love?" he asks now bringing his attention back to me but the rumbling in my stomach leaving me unable to focus. "Nothing can we just eat now? I didn't realize how hungry I was" I laugh off awkwardly.

"Of course go ahead. I hope you end up liking what you ordered" he smiles. 'I had more than enough time to think about it thanks to you' I say to myself, irritated by that previous event that happened moments ago yet again.

"I'm sure I will" I say and take that first bite, realizing it's not what I ordered. "What's wrong?" he says immediately noticing the look on my face. "No I'm fine, it's just the wrong order" I say and take a drink of water to wash out the flavor, being caught off guard by the taste. "I can call the waiter back if you want to send it back" he says and takes a quick look around trying to find him. 

"No it's fine don't worry about it. I don't mind" I say and go ahead to make the effort and take another bite, now tasting a bit better since I know what to expect this time. "But it's not what you ordered" he says, but before he's able to lift his hand up to wave them down I take his hand in mine bringing his attention back over to me. "Jungkook it's fine, let's just go back to eating" I say sternly to which he finally pays attention to, now clearly using my age as a reminder to get him to listen to me.

"Okay Noona. But can we at least switch dishes? I know you'll like mine better than yours!" he offers, hoping this will provide some sort of solution. "Sure" I say and give him a sweet smile after seeing his doe eyes go round, genuinely wanting to find a way to make me happy. We switch plates but end up spilling some water on the floor in the meantime leaving a big puddle right next to us. 

"Waiter!" Jungkook calls for someone to come help. "I'm so sorry do you think you could give us some napkins so I can clean this up?" he asks, clearly embarrassed by the situation once they reach us. "Oh don't worry about it sir, I'll have someone come out to clean it up" the waiter says before scurrying off to the back to find someone to help with the mess. 

"I'm sorry" I say and try to come out from around the table and help pick up some of the bigger shards of glass. "Don't apologize, it was my fault" he excuses. "And don't worry about picking up the glass, I've got it" he says going to grab a smaller piece but pulls his hand back after having sliced his finger right on contact. 

"This is why you need to leave things to me sometimes" I say sitting back up and giving him a napkin to wrap his finger in to stop the bleeding.  "I'm sorry Noona I-" "Keep some pressure on it and go to the bathroom to wash it off" I say sternly cutting him off, not looking for any arguments to which he mouthes a silent 'okay' and heads towards the bathroom to do as I say.

"Is everything okay over here?" a bus boy says, coming over to clean up the mess. "Um yeah everything is fine" I say not really wanting to get into it. "If you're planning on breaking up with him then go for it. It'll be less messy if you just get it over with.

"How did you know?" I say widening my eyes at him once the words have left his mouth. "Girly it doesn't take a genius to tell that you're unhappy" he says before turning to leave, me now confused more than ever. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks me, somehow sneaking up on me on his way back. 

"I think we should break up" I blurt out, surprising even myself by how easily it came out after talking to that bus boy. Who knew that it would just take one last push for me to finally speak my mind. "What? Why?" he asks completely caught off guard by the abrupt nature of the statement.

"Jungkook, I haven't been happy for a while and I know you probably haven't noticed that you're unhappy as well because you've just become too comfortable in this relationship" he tries to interrupt but I stop him by raising my hand and he gets the memo and sinks back in his chair to listen.

"We've been together for two years already and I feel like we're at the same place we were back then. It feels like I'm the same person I was back then and so are you. We haven't grown and changed at all, as a couple or individually. I feel like my life is going in slow motion, I'm still working on my damn degree because I cut down on my class load to get a job to help pay for our bills and I've lost all motivation to continue pursuing it" I say and take a deep breath.

"You could always quit your job so you can focus on your studies. I told you before that I make enough to support the both of us" he says, having been given an opportunity to jump in. "That's not the point. Do you know how horrible I would feel if I was living off of my younger boyfriend's money? Do you know what people would say about us, about me?" I say, him adding more fuel to the fire unknowingly. 

"They would say I'm a gold digger and that I was too lazy to try and make something out of my life. That I'm taking too much time to finish college and I should just give up on it all together and get a real job" I continue. "I thought you didn't care about what people think" he says quietly infuriating me even more since he obviously knows the answer to his stupid question but decides to make that comment anyways. 

"Well I obviously do" I say and sit back taking a breather for a second, giving him a chance to say something since he obviously feels the need to interrupt. "Did I do something? Did I say something that might've caused you to feel this way? I'll fix, it just tell me" he says trying to understand my reasoning. 

"Oh so now you want to put in an effort? Jungkook you're hardly ever around, and when you are, you're too tired to spend time together. For the most part just heading to bed or getting back when I'm already sleeping. Do you even know how long it's been since you've even bothered to touch me? How long it's been since we had a conversation that wasn't accompanied by a meal. How long it's been since we watched a movie together" I list off and the realization of the actual state of our relationship washes over him.

"Baby I'm so-" "You know it was my birthday last month right? I waited around all day hoping you just weren't saying anything because you had a surprise planned for me but at the end of the night all I had received from you was a simple good morning kiss and then you went about your day, paying no mind to me at all. Holed up in your office on your day off, working and making phone calls, not even bothering to come out to eat dinner" I say getting upset all over again at the memory. 

"Let's celebra-" he tries again. "This isn't about celebrating my birthday! This is about the fact that it feels like you don't even care about me anymore. Every time I try to make an effort to spend time together you cancel at the last minute and come home with a bouquet of tiger lilies asking me for forgiveness and promising to be there next time. Even the simple dinners that I've made when you told me you would be home early enough would go cold, leaving me to eat alone yet again with no call, no text, nothing" I say and I see him hang his head a bit finally seeing things from my side. 

"Is there someone else? Someone else in your life that you're wasting your love on, leaving just a shell of a person to come crawl into bed with me. Then in the morning I wake up alone, the only indicator that you even been there being some new clothes in the laundry basket and the rumpled sheets next to me. I've been thinking recently, 'What are either of us getting out of this relationship?'. At this point we could honestly be roommates and not much would change at all compared to what's going on with us right now" I say and see that he's been holding back from saying anything so I give him a chance to say his piece. 

"There's no one else and you know that" he says sternly, clenching his jaw at the thought that I would actually think that he would cheat on me. "How would I know that" I lower my voice and lean forward trying to provoke him but he's not taking the bait, too concerned about the people around us. "I only have eyes for you and it's been like that for years. I don't even find other women attractive anymore now that I have you". "Flattery will get you no where Jungkook" I roll my eyes at him. 

"Well you're just going to have to believe me then" he says sitting back, fixing his suit jacket a bit to straighten himself out and takes a deep breath. I wait for him to say something else but he just stays silent, I can see the wheels turning in his head but from the looks of it he just can't seem to formulate them the way he wants to. 

"That's another thing, I hate the fact that you're so cautious with me. Always carefully formulating your sentences so they come out perfectly, making choices for me because you think you know best, never even trying to do something new together because you don't want to push me out of my comfort zone" I argue, continuing to point out all of the big things he's done that frustrate me. 

"I just want you to enjoy everything we do together. I don't want something to not meet your expectations and then it all goes to waste" he explains, trying to get me to see some of these things from his perspective. "I understand that, really I do, but people are meant to grow and change and learn new thing, but I feel like since we've been together we've done none of that. Our first few months of course were exciting and new but we soon started to settle into a routine and that's not what I want. To me that's not living" I explain to him, making sure he sees my side as well. 

"This relationship just isn't good for either of us. We're stifling each other's growth and it seems like our ideas of how we want to live are at odds" I say trying to wrap it up. "What's wrong with the way we live? I thought you liked our apartment?" he asks clearly not understanding where I'm going with this.

"Jungkook I literally just explained to you everything that I was unhappy about with the way that we're living. It's not the material things it's us. The day to day with how we do or don't interact with each other. The consideration of making sure you'll follow through on something instead of just expecting forgiveness when you decide to apologize for failing after the fact. The way that I don't even feel like you love me anymore, you're just used to me now so you don't feel the need to put effort into our relationship" 

"But I do love you" he starts but I cut him off without a single care. "You know our anniversary was three days ago right? I wouldn't be surprised if you just took a shot in the dark and picked a random day and convinced yourself into thinking it was the right one" I scoff. "Really?" he asks softly, embarrassed that even now he's messed up. "Yes Jungkook why would I lie to you I-" I start but I cut myself off when the waiter comes by. 

"Would you both like some more wine?" he asks with bottle in hand and as soon as I'm about to accept, hoping to cool myself down a bit Jungkook places his hand over my wine glass, preventing him from refilling it. "No, I think she's had enough don't worry" Jungkook says and takes that as a not so subtle note to not come back over until he asks for the bill. 

"This is exactly what I was talking about Jungkook! You haven't listened to a word I've said have you?" "No I have I ju-" "I want to break up and I don't want to fix thing" I say stating my case, feeling like this whole conversation was meaningless and decide to stop explaining myself. "I'm sorry it was just a habit. I'm listening I promise, if you just give me some time I'll clean up my act and put more effort into us" he pleads with me.

"I said no! End of discussion" I huff, tired of playing his games. "One week, that's all I'll need" he asks, doing better than I am at maintaining a sense of decorum. "I said we're done! Why is that something that you just can't get through your head?" I argue. 

"Please Noona, can you keep your voice down?" he pleads with me, noticing a few more people have taken notice of our conversation. "You can't tell me what to do Jungkook. I'm still your elder whether we are together or not so you do not get to disrespect me like that!" I say getting up from my chair making moves to leave.

"All this time you've been messing around and playing with my heart and I'm done Jungkook. I'm sick of yo-" "Noona watch out!" he yells, grabbing me by my arm and yanking me towards him. "What? What happened?" I say after looking around once I've regained stability.

"There was a fire at that table and it got pretty close to you so..." he trails off getting embarrassed, now noticing that he's the only one that go scared by it. I turn around and take a look a said table where the supposed fire was and see that in fact is a fire over there. 

"It was a flambé Jungkook that's normal and it's far away from us anyway so I don't see why you would act like that" I say turning my vision back over to Jungkook and just now taking notice of how close he is to me. I look at him and I look down and realize that in his panic I somehow ended up on his lap. 

He gives me a shy smile which soon turns into a look of panic when I get up off his lap grabbing my stuff and walking towards the door. "Noona wait please" he says and grabs onto my wrist but I pull it out of his grasp, turning around to face him at the same time.

"Don't bother coming home tonight. Stay at a friend's house or wherever you want, just leave me alone. We'll talk about this later" I say and he calls out to me one final time but I leave before he's able to stop me again.

Teaser / Tuesday

Series Masterlist

a/n: I really hope you like Monday! I said I was going to post something else but I had this done already and I was too excited so I decided to post it! I really hope you guys like it! Also barely edited so have mercy on me. Thanks for all of the support recently on my fics as well! Love you guys <3

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Oh my, we be sad gurls and bois.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Pete rumbles with snores, you move to the couch, hoping for what little sleep you can summon. You can't lay there beside him knowing what you know. You can't steam in the spite of knowing that he can sleep just soundly while sneaking around.

Two wrongs can never make right. You're not absolved. Far from it. You're mad. At him. At yourself. At life.

As you drift in and out, the apathy comes. You can't care. If you let yourself feel, you'll fall apart. You don't have that choice. Someone has to hold it together for the kids.

You get up first, like most mornings. You're restlessly impatient to get the day started if only to get away from that house. From the husband who isn't much of one.

Simone and Malik sit at the table eating cereal as you check your phone. You're on track so far. As if fate is throwing you a soft ball, the morning is going smoother than ever.

You get the kids packed and in the car. Every step is taken on habit alone. You walk them to the school doors and wish them a good day. Then you go back to your car and idle in silence. You're empty, you have nothing left.

You make yourself pull out and join the snailish roll of traffic through the school zone. Your drive to work is over before you know it as you stay locked in a trance. Before you just went through the motions, now it's like you're a ghost, floating aimlessly from one place to the next.

You enter the office, the walls a blur in your vision as you find your way blindly to your desk. Your head is pounding. Amid your early morning scramble, your desperation for distraction, to think of anything but reality, you hadn't even had a coffee. Your entire being throbs from the caffeine withdrawal.

You cup your forehead as you boot your computer. Eventually you'll get up and grab a cup of the weak break room brew. You lean heavily on the armrest of the chair and wiggle your mouse. 

For once, you're thankful to be at work. No fighting kids, no laundry, no scoundrel husband. But you're there and it's just as hard to live with yourself. 

"Morning, sunshine," Mr. Hansen's booming tone has you careening back in your chair as he comes to lean on the corner of your desk, "aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Long night, huh? Husband finally loosen you up a bit."

You give him the daggers. That look that says 'enough'. Your motherly chagrin blazing at full force. He winks and laughs as he taps the end of your nose.

"You're real cute when you're pissed off, you know that?" He puts a hand on his hip, smoothing his index and thumb of his other across his mustache.

"Mr. Hansen," your voice is gravelly with dry fatigue, "is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, I can think of a certain wakemeup," he snickers, "but I'm thinking that you're not really into it. Still, you look like you could use it."

You huff and turn your chair to glare up at him. Can't he bother anyone else? He had his fun, he humiliated you, he made you hate yourself. So what else does he want?

"If you don't mind," you push your chair back and stand, "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Oh, sounds fun," he shoves away from the desk and trails after you, surprising you as he stretches and arm across your shoulders, "this company shit, it's garbage. How about I make you my own personal brew? I got a keurig in my office, just got some French Vanilla–"

"No thank you," you grumble and pull away from him.

You enter the kitchen first as he continues his incessant pursuit. He likes Malik when he wants to tell you about his legoworld. You go to the machine and find the carafe empty. You rinse it and fill the tank.

"You're mad about yesterday," he says as he leans on the counter, "if you're into snuggling, you coulda stuck around–"

"No," you growl as you measure out the coffee grounds.

"I let you go take care of the crotch goblin so I thought we'd be square–"

"Mr. Hansen, it's not you," you close the lid and flip the switch, "really."

"Ah, got it, it's the hubby. He's not taking care of his marital duties, huh?"

"Please, sir, it's not… it's not that," you falter as the lie sticks on your tongue. "Tired, need coffee."

"You look like you need sleep," he shifts closer as you stare at the slow trickle of coffee, "tell you what," he lowers his voice, "you come in my office, give me a good tug and I'll let you sleep in a meeting room. How's that? I'll make sure you get your eight hours."

You open the cupboard, taking out your mug from the bunch of mismatched porcelain, and set it on the counter. You can't even look at him. Not only because he repulses you but he reminds you of how pathetic you truly are.

"I'm good," you insist, "thank you, sir."

He scoffs, "I'm giving you something you're not getting elsewhere. Action and sleep," he runs his knuckles up your sleeve, "beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

You look at him. You're so fucking exhausted that your eyes are too dry to eke out a single tear. It's the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge.

He smirks and looks at your blouse, reaching to pinch one of the front buttons, "look at that, all put together."

You glance down at the misaligned buttons. You don't even care. You're a mess. You're old and used up and unwanted. Even he only wants to get off, it doesn't matter who does it.  At the end of the day, he'll be just as happy to do it himself.

You're speechless. It's nothing like shock. It's exasperation. Are all men really like this? Is this what Pete does? Is she some girl at the company?

"Forget it," you take your empty mug and spin in your low orthotics.

You stride out and stumble to your desk. You can do this. You just have to get through the day. And then what?

Get the kids, go home, cook dinner, do homework, bath time, bed for them, clean the endless mess…

Tomorrow? The same thing, over and over, until what? Until when? When do you admit defeat?

Hansen struts out of the breakroom. You look up as you see him sipping from a mug; your mug. He meets your gaze as he drinks deeper and passes by.

You wonder the same thing about him; when will he give up? 

🗄️

You feel yourself slumping lower and lower. Your eyelids are scratchy and burning as you fight to keep them open. You cup your chin in your hand, elbow planted on your desk as the emails blur before you. You can do this… 

In a minute, you’ll get up and get a coffee, undisturbed, and really start working. You won’t fall asleep. How could you? Right here in your office chair. On the best nights, you can barely sleep in your own bed. Lately, it’s only been bad nights.

Once you find the energy, you’ll get up. You swear you will. It’s all you have to look forward to. That cup of coffee. You can smell it. You know it’s burnt by now, stale and bitter, but your stomach growls for it.

A few more minutes.

You hear snorts, strange noises that seem to rumble from within you. The clacking of keys and soft clicks continue, almost forming a rhythm as your screen ripples to bars of colours. You feel a weight over you and a sudden shift.

You hit the floor, bouncing on your ass as your seat hits your shoulder. You look up as you awake, only realising then that you dozed off. You blink at your coworkers before focusing on the figure glaring down at you. Mr. Hansen has a hand in his pocket and a foot on the bottom of your chair. Shit.

“Working hard,” he muses tritely.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, disoriented. You can’t believe you fell asleep. You hope this is just a dream, if so. “I… I didn’t–”

“Get up,” he demands.

You scramble to get to your feet. You reach for the chair and he kicks it further away. You’re overly aware of your audience. No one will look directly at you in fear that they might draw Hansen’s attention, but it’s obvious by the lack of typing that they are very aware of the scene.

“I’m very sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to. I was– I’ll stay awake. You don’t have to worry.”

“Go home,” he says curtly.

“Home? No, I can make it through the day. It was a mistake.”

“Go. Home.” He repeats pointedly, “this isn’t a hotel.”

“Please,” you murmur, “please, Mr. Hansen,” you clutch your hands together, trying not to speak too loud, embarrassed as your voice cracks, “I–”

“Don’t make me call security,” he warns as he steps back on one heel, his posture victorious. He arches a brow in challenge. You’re certain he’d love to see that, you dragged out like an intruder. “Come back Monday, well-rested, and HR will deal with your disciplinary report.”

“What?” You gulp. In all your time there, you’d never been written up. Not once.

“Keep digging that hole.”

“Okay, okay,” you go to your desk and open the drawer to pull your bag out. You hook it on your shoulder and turn around, nearing him as you reach for the coat hung on the back of your chair. He watches you with a smug smirk, “I’ll be back Monday.”

“We’ll see.”

His ominous words put you on edge. You recoil and stare at him. What does he mean by that? You’re not stupid enough to ask. You put your head down and march out, burning with embarrassment as you pass your rapt audience.

“Hey,” Hansen claps his hands, “back to work.”

🗄️

You barely make it home. You set an alarm as you get in the front door and collapse on the couch. You don’t care that it’s lumpy and uncomfortable, you don’t care about anything. You forget all your worries for the blackness that clogs your mind.

As quickly as you close your eyes, your ringer goes off. You wake with a groan and roll over, shoulders cramped and stiff as you reach for your phone. Two o’clock already. Your head pulses with the dregs of fatigue. You feel marginally better.

You fill a travel mug and head out to pick up the kids. Along the way, you can’t help but shrink behind the wheel as the morning pricks in your mind. You don’t expect things to go well on Monday.

You pass a Burger King and slow down. You don’t have the money for a Whopper. No, that’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not spending you’re planning on.

You pull in and get out. You enter and approach the counter, sheepish as a twentysomething greets you from the other side.  You smile as you come forward.

“How can I help you ma’am?” He asks, hands on the side of the till.

“Oh, uh, I was… I was looking for an application,” you eke out. “For a job.”

He nods, you see the surprise flick in his lashes, “oh, well, we don’t have physical applications anymore but…” he reaches over to a stack of small flyers beside the till, “if you scan this QR code it will take you right to careers page.”

“Um, right, yeah, makes sense,” you take the slip as he offers it, “thank you.”

“You lookin’ to order?” He prompts with a strained smile.

“No, sorry, I gotta go get my kids,” you fold the flier and turn away, “have a good one.”

You head back to your car. You drop into the driver seat and curse. Fuck, your hips are killing you. You don’t imagine doing weekends standing behind a till will do much for that but you don’t have much of a choice. Even with the second job, you doubt you’ll be able to pay for the babysitter to cover it. What a stupid idea.

You shove the flier into your purse and back out from between the lines. You check the time as you set out to the school. You arrive just as the bell rings and the kids are let out into the yard. 

You find Malik with the other grade ones as Simone seeks you out on her own, too cool to hang around with the other grade sixes. She can be a bit of a loner but not in a sad way. She can intimidate even you.

“Hey, how was school?” You ask as you take them to the car, “did you do anything fun?”

Malik tells you about the popsicle stick houses they made as you buckle him into his car seat and Simone does up her seat belt on her own. You nod and smile, humouring your son’s slightly lisping story.

“What about you, Simone?” You ask as you look over at her.

“I just read. I’m almost done number four,” she shows the cover of her latest fantasy series, “but they wouldn’t let me stay in the library during recess.”

“Good, you need the fresh air,” you tease, “speaking of, I was thinking we could go for a hike this weekend. How does that sound?”

“A hike?” She grimaces, “is dad coming?”

“Err, we’ll see,” you shrug, “I spend all day in the office, I’d like to get out before the winter gets here.”

“I’ll go if dad does,” Simone opens her book, “it won’t be any fun without him.”

“Daddy, daddy,” Malik claps his hands, “I love daddy!”

“I’ll ask him,” you nod and keep a frown from tugging at your lips. 

You stand straight and gently close the back door. You round to the driver’s door and get it, quiet as you turn the engine. You’re not even good enough for your own kids.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 22

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Hades propaganda:

“Fields of Asphodel is a work in progress (but nearly finished!) text-based IF game where the MC plays the part of Persephone (you can rename your character tho) who get married to Hades at the behest of Zeus (being a giant douchebag per usual) and move to the Underworld. Hades is kind and respectful and cares deeply for his realm. He feels guilty that the MC was forced into this arranged marriage and does whatever he can to make the MC more comfortable. Even if the MC wants to leave, he puts the MC's feelings first. He drinks that respect women (gender neutral) juice everyday. Listen, this marriage is arranged by Olympus King Dick Zeus, so Hades has absolute zero problems if the MC dates someone else from his realm. Choose someone else's route (if you can!) He has the cutest kid, Makaria and of course everyone's favorite puppy Kerberos. Hades is a slow burn, he dodges and swerves the MC's flirting, pretending to be oblivious. He's not oblivious at all to the growing feelings between the two and that's what makes it sooo good.”