#THEIR STUPID FACES WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE

[tillbonesshow]

Hey everyone back on another episode of why the fuck is my mother like this?

[boyapologist]

goooooood I miss having friends. being mentally I'll when you're lonely it's 50x worse methinks

[hischokehold]

Pretty Please?

older!könig with a pretty girl who won't leave him alone.

"Hello, mister officer." Pretty doe eyes nearly melt in his, tilted up so sweetly just so you could meet his gaze. Arms locked around his, clinging so gently to his biceps like you have been for the past two weeks.

König grumbled, barely taking a glance at you and your provocative outfit, teasing him. "Back for more, little girl? What did I tell you?" He tsks, baby blues barely evading your exposed cleavage pressed up against him.

"To focus on my studies. I am. Swear I am. Aced my exams, don't I deserve a reward?" You hummed, though he found your words rather hard to believe when you were so obviously checking him out.

You've been getting bold recently, haven't you, liebling?

It all started with a simple encounter, really; with König saving your drunken state from a group of men in his local bar. The perfect damsel in distress. He had pulled you by his hip, dragging you to the nearest bench to slip your glittery high heels right back into your feet. It was one of the rare moments where the colonel wasn't in the front lines. Still, he found himself a little pastime, using his influence to do some shady deals in the city's biggest club.

He didn't exactly expect to have such a cute thing clinging to him.

After a few minutes of listening to your rambling, cooing at you, König finally called you a cab and sent you off. A nice encounter, that's all it was.

Until he found you and your little self began throwing yourself at him almost every night, practically begging for his attention. "Just wanted to thank you for last time," You pout, batting your lashes at him. "Can't I do that?"

You could still see the remnants of blues in his knuckles from beating those bastards to a pulp. His big hands pat the small of your back in a reprimanding manner, shamefully reminding you that you were smitten by a man who you met barely a week ago.

"A thank you would suffice, darling."

König stood his ground. He had morals— what little he has left anyways. You're pretty, no doubt about that. He knew he shouldn't be taking advantage of such a fragile girl. But at the end of the day, he's just a man. Surely, you knew what would happen if you provoked him too much with your womanly charms?

"Y'shouldn't be playing around with men like me, little girl." He drawls, accent thick as he lightly taps your soft cheeks. Something clicked in you at the mention of the rather degrading pet name, pupils fully blown as you nodded at his every word, unable to register anything anymore.

An "I like you." comes from your plump, glossed up lips before you could even control it. Your 100th confession this week alone. Many would call you shameless and maybe you'd feel an ounce of it if you weren't so busy eyeing up his bulging biceps through his tight-fitted polo shirt.

He's intense, you think. And he makes you painfully shy.

"Hm?" He tilts his head, and he's so handsome, and gruff, and big that he has your mind spinning around in circles and doing backflips. Soft brows furrow as brutish hands cup your cheeks, lips puckering up into a small 'o'.

The tip of his tongue swipes down his lips while he indulges in the sight. A pretty girl, a young thing looking up at him all stupid and dazed out. Begging for an older man's attention. "How naughty." He tugs you closer, puffing cigarette smoke all over your pretty face, leaving coughing from the sudden intrusion in your nostrils.

He chuckles darkly, lightly patting the small of your back. "Be a good girl and run along, ja?" He flicks his cig to the side, putting its flame out with a stomp.

"N-No! please," you breathe, manicured fingertips finding your way to his belt, slithering along the lines. His eyes never leave yours, darkening as you inch closer to his manhood, leaving you dizzied.

There's hurried chattering in the background, a scantily clad group of three wore worried expressions on their faces, calling out your name.

"Ah, your friends are here, darling." You don't even have time to respond before he's nudging you out the dark alley, sending you off your merry wya but not before giving your rear a little slap.

"And keep that backside lookin' pretty for me."

[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

friction

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, semi public sex, server!reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, workplace romance

“alright.” you clap your hands together. “where is my trainee?”

“hey.” your eyes widen as you take rafe in, his arms crossed over his wide chest, biceps bulging against the sleeves of the uniform polo.

“wh-what?” you take a staggering step back. 

“won't be here long.” rafe says quickly. “just… got in trouble with my dad.” his voice turns softer, but not for your sake, simply for his pride as he looks around.

“and so you had to get a job here of all places?” you question.

“most fitting for punishment. he said if i last two months then he knows i can commit to something.”

“so you're going to be working here… for two months. great.” you try to add some cheer to your voice, but it certainly fails. it was hard enough when rafe would come in to dine at the country club, having to serve alongside him will certainly be hell.

not that he does anything to intentionally upset you, his very presence gets you frustrated. from the second he walked in and you saw him for the first time, your face got hot and flushed and you had to hide in the walk in freezer to cool yourself down.

“so, where do we start?” rafe asks.

you snap out of whatever thoughts you were having. “your section.” you state, the unofficial leader of the servers, having worked at the country club for by far the longest of all the staff, even outranking your current manager in seniority.

--

“rafe, you're at a month and a half, you're so close.” josh says, eyes glancing between the two of you from the other side of the managers desk. “and y/n, you know better than to argue in front of customers.”

josh stands, hands on his hips. “sasha and i are going to take over your sections while you two… work out whatever is going on. just talk it out then get back on the floor.”

he walks out without another word, leaving you in the office alone with rafe.

“you made me look so fucking stupid in front of my regulars.” you grumble. you asked for something very simple. for rafe to bring your table sparkling waters, and he took them tap instead.

“i didn't know.” rafe huffs back, not turning to fully look at you. “sorry, but you still got your fucking tip.”

“just pay attention next time. i know you don't give a shit about this job but some of us need this paycheck to fucking live.”

“alright, i said fucking sorry.”

“alright.”

you both sit in silence, the time stretching out between the two of you. 

“you're still mad.” rafe states.

“im just… frustrated.” you sigh, wishing you could pinpoint why your stomach always tightens when you're around rafe, why no matter how many shifts you work with him he puts you on edge, makes you act different.

“sounds like you could use some-” rafe cuts himself off.

you snap your head towards him. “some what?”

“i was gonna say some dick.” rafe turns his eyes back forward, even though there's nothing to look at but an empty wall.

“some dick couldn't satisfy me, you guys never make me cum.” you say it to upset rafe, hopefully dig into some insecurity he holds, but rafe just smirks.

“i could make you cum. and then we'd both be less frustrated.”

“both?” you question.

“yeah ‘cause you'd get your o and id finally get to fuck you.”

“i guess the only thing stopping us is locking the office door.” 

you both move rapidly, hands meeting at the same time your lips do as you turn the lock and hear the satisfying click of confirmation. rafe instantly presses you against the door, his mouth devouring yours as his body presses in close.

all rational thoughts go out the window. if you were in your right mind, if rafe didn't drive you so crazy, you would never do something so brazen.

rafe reaches down, one hand delving under your assigned polo shirt while the other grips your ass.

you moan against his lips as his hand covers your bra, fingers quickly pushing the material out of the way to get at your nipple, his palm rubbing against you so perfectly you have no doubt in your mind of how skilled rafe is.

“fuck.” you gasp when his hand gripping your bum moves, somehow managing to get your belt off as he pulls it away, undoing your slacks to reach into your underwear.

he finds your clit and taps at it, teasingly, but with just enough constant stimulation to keep you from crying out as you kiss him, pulling back only to look at his face, the way his eyes have dropped and darkened with pleasure, his mouth pink and wet from your kisses.

“don't stop.” his voice is grisly as he begs, and you lean in and continue to kiss, tongue pushing into rafes mouth and taking dominance, but it's all for naught as his finger on your clit so effortlessly controls your entire body, reading your reactions and what you like most as he rubs and touches.

“need you shirtless.” you tell rafe, tugging at his collar. “take it off.”

rafe doesn't want to pull away, it doesn't seem worth it, but instead of continuing to kiss him, you pull his collar more until he has no choice but to unmold himself from your body and take a step back to toss off his shirt, watching as you do the same, revealing one cup of your bra pushed down to reveal your pert nipple.

rafe moves quick to press his lips against your breast, hands working to undo your bra before he's back inside your pants, circling around your entrance and spreading your wetness up to your clit before continuing to rub, hearing your soft moans and whimpers as he switches to your other breast.

“need your cock.” you beg, but rafe isn't ready yet. he knows it will be the ultimate end to your mutual suffering that was just used to hide your bodies attraction, sexual frustration boiling over.

as much as rafe likes sucking your nipple into his mouth and feeling how warm and soft your skin is, he's desperate to move back to your mouth and swallow more of your moans, not so they don't get heard by your coworkers, but so they can become his and his alone.

“on the desk.” rafe pulls away, and a devious smile comes to your lips, knowing you're about to get what you want.

you push your pants and underwear down your hips in one go as you sit on the desk, glad josh keeps everything clear and clean as you spread your legs, rafes eyes dropping to your pussy.

you chuckle as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, but he doesn't have time for a taste as his hands begin to work on his own clothing until rafe is just as naked as you.

he pauses for a moment, standing a foot away from the desk, his cock standing up, calling out for your pussy. he gives you a look, and you know it's a question. a question you would have raged at fifteen minutes ago but you now know is what you've needed this whole time.

“yes.” you tell rafe. simple. one word. one syllable for rafe to surge forward, his arms around your body as he captures you in another kiss and pushes his cock forward against your entrance, burying himself in one smooth motion.

your head tips back, but rafe follows, hips snapping forward and instantly picking up pace, feeling how wet and warm you are, so good that he can't help his loose tongue.

“feels so good.” rafe grumbles. “can't believe we took so fucking long to do this.”

“maybe if you weren't such a-” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust, your sassy comeback stopping halfway through and quickly leaving your mind all together.

“mhm, that's what i thought.” rafe chuckles, but he's barely handling himself better than you, forcing himself to stay somewhat quiet when really he wants to shout your name for everyone to hear, to know he's claiming you.

“t-touch me again.” you tell rafe, and he knows what you mean, yet he's not ready yet, not ready for this to end, so instead one of his hands moves to your breast while he continues to thrust.

you let out a little growl, tempted to reach down yourself and rub your own clit if rafe is taking so damn long to do it, but both your hands are certainly needed to stabilize yourself against the desk.

“perfect pussy.” rafe says, stating it like it's a fact. it almost makes you laugh, but there's not a hit of humor in his voice, his eyes completely glazed over at this point.

he finally reaches down to your clit, beginning his motions from earlier this time with his thumb, remembering exactly what you like and what gets the biggest moan out of you.

you pussy clenches around rafe and he can tell you won't last long, his own speed increasing as his thumb runs so vigorously he's worried only for a second that he's being too rough before remembering who he's with.

“f-fuck!” you squeal. “rafe!”

your back arches as you cum, entire body shaking as your arms collapse underneath you, falling back against the desk as rafe continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

the feeling of your pussy constricting around him sends him over the edge, filling you up with a grunt and a mumble of your name.

“shit.” you gasp, sitting up as you regain some control of your body. “josh is going to be pissed.”

“hey, he told us to work out our frustrations.”

--

“happy six months.” you poke rafes side, making him flinch and then frown at you as he drops a fork in a clatter back onto the table.

“can't believe i could have gotten away with just two.” rafe sighs dramatically.

“hm, part of me thinks that you purposely got in trouble again so you had to stay working here.” 

“now why would i do that?” rafe smirks, very obviously checking you out, looking past your gleaming name tag declaring your newly promoted position as manager to the cleavage peeking from underneath your top.

“meet me in my office when you're done rolling silverware.” you take a look around the country club restaurant, it's certainly not busy and your other staff can handle it as the night is coming to a close anyways.

“am i getting written up?” rafe questions, smile still on his face.

“no… but if you're quick you will get ridden.”

[depresssant]

Shades Of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

so reader is very flawed ppl. i’m trying to make this as gn as possible for pls bear with me. asks and requests r open. reblogs are also much appreciated. now that i’ve gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy this pathetic excuse of a story

warnings : child abuse, past sexual abuse, yandere, etc

you want to die.

you always do.

staring at the wanna be thug pointing a gun at you, you sigh and roll your eyes in exasperation. perhaps pissing him off will the best way to get him to curl a finger around the trigger. or judging by his temperament, you won't have to do much.

"you? i should give my money to you?"

"who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?" the thug screams at you angrily. his grip gets tighter and clammier. he's not experienced with this. he's probably ganged up with a bunch of thugs to pull shit like this. it wouldn't take much to disarm him. "give me the fucking money before i blow your head off!"

"to a junkie like you?" you are a junkie, too, so you're not too sure about making fun of him for that. "i don't give money to hobos."

that is wrong, too. but you want to piss him off.

"that's it, you stupid bitch!" the thug's stances becomes defensive. his hateful glare is pointed at you while he musters the courage to actually press the trigger. he doesn't look like he'll do it. you've seen countless like him roaming the streets, holding you at gunpoint. he probably won't do it. then again, this is gotham. you don't expect much. either he'll shoot you dead, forcibly take your stuff, flee the scene out of fear, or be dismantled by one of the city's vigilantes. perhaps he'd shoo—

"stop right there!"

damn it.

you think too soon.

a young robin is quick to have the wanna be thug tied up and beat down. you would've questioned why a kid who seemingly looked twelve can do such a thing, but you've learned to not question most things in your life. you merely sigh in disappoint and pick up your dropped backpack before beginning the journey to hell.

"excuse me? wait! where are you headed?"

gosh, his boy-ish voice grates your nerves. makes you clench your teeth. your gaze narrows, but you know better than to react. reaction gains a reaction—one that will never be in your favor. it'll lead to a fight—one that will never be in your favor. you'll end up broken, bleeding, and bruised. now that isn't something in your favor. now you're thinking of favor too much. forcing a smile, you turn around to face the pre-teen vigilante. "yes?"

"are you alright?" he asks with practiced concern. he doesn't actually care. it's probably just protocol.

"a-okay!" the words are hollow. they lack depth. like you. "thank you for your help. i don't know what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

you do know. you wish you wouldn't.

"you're welcome," robin replies with polished words like he's not exactly convinced. "would you like for me to walk you? the city hasn't been safe for some time now."

"when is it ever safe? but that's okay. i live just around the corner, so i think i'll be fine."

"are you sure—"

"completely."

please. why won't he just leave you alone? there goes your plan spoiled by him again. every time you've been in an attempted robbing, he's been there to destroy your chances of getting shot. of escaping. he always does this. this is a repeated cycle between the two of you. he's a flying bird until you shoot him down. your name clearly wants to escape from his lips, but robin nods his head in understanding.

"this seems to happen to you all the time. my wish is for you to be safe."

"this is gotham." the grip on the straps on your backpack tighten. "everyone's gotta go through this. anyways, i gotta go, you know. thanks for savin' me."

"of course."

you don't spare him a single glance. the sky is wrapped up in black clouds heavy with the burden of rain. icy cold wind sings a melancholy tune through the stiff air. the door to your apartment looks like the gates of hell. it's all futile. no matter how many sighs you sigh, how many wishes you wish, and how many curses you curse, you'll still land up in the same fate. without escape.

that is the summary of your life.

taking a few seconds to prepare yourself for the incoming session, you open the door to be met with radio silence. silence is never good. half the time, it means something is brewing for you, and they're taking their sweet time to scare you into thinking nothing will happen. sometimes. not all the time. the other time, it just means he need to rise from his pile of misery first.

the hand of your mother's boyfriend is instantly wrapped around your neck before you can even register why the hell the apartment looks like a tornado hit it. he squeezes so tightly you feel like blood is gushing out of your ears with how loudly they ring. white spots dot along your blurry sight as you struggle to breathe. you can hear a frantic voice telling him to let you go, but you're pushed up more against the wall. this is the norm. doesn't mean it hurts any less. he'll let you go, give you some time to regain your breath, and then rain down bullets upon you.

that's exactly what happens.

your hand goes straight to your neck as your raspy and shaky coughs wreck your chest. he squeezes hard enough for it to hurt but it not show. and then the kicks and punches come. with how much your chest and ribs are struck, you're a bit surprised at how you haven't broken a bone yet. your potential step-father screams at you, but you can barely hear it over the repetition of words in your head. he grabs your bloody face and shout something incoherent before letting you go to kick you.

leaving you in your own pile of misery.

it's normal. yes, it's completely normal. you're used to this. it'll get better. it always does. but you've got the crushing idea it never will.

gotham heights high school—the school you're forced to attend.

the class division is insane to look at, because it's there even from a short and near prospective. how the richest kids got put in a school with the poorest—you'll never know. the only thing you do know is that every one of these kids are pieces of shit. even the ones that pretend to be nice.

tim drake—or shall you say tim wayne—is no different.

even as he helps up the girl who just got roughly pushed to the floor, causing all her textbooks to scatter, you can only eye him with disdain. if he really cares, then he would've beat the shit out of those athletes. but he doesn't. they're all the same—privileged and all. sympathy shouldn't be given to them. not to drake or the wealthy yet somehow bullied girl.

"but y'know what i heard?" your friend drags your attention back to him. zarian leans against a locker lazily, but excitement practically buzzes off of him. "the bruce wayne is coming to our track meet today!"

your other friend, jaylene, rolls her eyes as she applies her eyeliner using the mirror hanging up on the inside door of her locker. she speaks exactly what you're thinking. "only because his beloved son is gonna be there."

"well, still. think about the connections we can make! all the famous people that'll be there."

"keep dreaming. asshat. i put all my money on the attention being on rich the kid. i don't even know why he joined track. varsity, at that, too. there has to be some sort of bribery going on."

an incoming argument is clearly brewing up, so you take in a deep breath to say something, but a new voice beats you to it.

"excuse me?"

you and your two friends turn to face the guy standing in front of you. charismatic, intelligent,  and optimistic—he's an enigma that shines on everyone. tim drake. his black, messy yet somehow in place hair does no justice for his good looks. he's the complete package. rich, good looking, tall, and empathetic. the mere sight of him annoys you.

zarian is the first to speak up. he quirks a brow and offers tim a grin. "what's up, man?"

"you're leaning against my locker." tim rubs the back of his neck. he smiles awkwardly in the presence of the three of you, and it takes your friend a beat to understand what he's saying before moving away.

"oh yeah. my fault," he says as he moved to stand next to you.

the school's very own bruce wayne only shakes his head and tells him it's okay while opening his locker and grabbing a few things. people flock around, waiting for him to be done with whatever the hell he's doing, so they can be back to his side like leeches sucking on blood. he surely can't be this dumb, no? these people don't want to be his friend...

well, it's not as if it's your problem. you wish it is. you and your friends turn to make way to first period, but drake clearly has other plans. he sandwiches himself between you and zarian with a grin of his own plastered on an unblemished face. one carefree of any worry or pain. "so," tim begins. "first track meet of the year, huh? aren't you guys nervous?"

jaylene merely hums in amusement and shrugs. "it gets better. when you've spent four years in track—in front of all those judging people—it wears off. hopefully, you'll get used to it soon."

that is jab, though, rich the kid doesn't seem to catch on. he laughs casually, but even you can sense the anxiety like it was radioactive. ""i hope so. i've sprinted so much i feel like i'll get shin splits again."

you zone out while he has a conversation with your friends. as if drake has ever had experience with track. it took you all of freshman year to just prove that you can actually be a part of the track team, and here tim drake is, parading around about getting on varsity without a single grain of hard work. he's a naturally talented person. good at everything. that's what makes you hate him so much. people like him get everything handed to them just because they're good at it first hand and leave behind people that actually work for it. you want to tell him to buzz off—that he can't talk about how much he's practiced and how nervous he is, but you keep your mouth shut. that is, until he directly addresses you.

tim's eyes narrow at you with comedic suspicion. "you know, you look like someone i know. a lot. the resemblance is crazy."

"eight billion people out there. you never know." your tone is flat, stoic, lacking any bit of emotion.

"gosh, you even sound like him! that's really terrifying."

"well, whoever, it is, i hope i never meet him," you murmur.

your two friends leave for their classes soon, and you and drake find your seats at the back of high school economics. exhaustingly so, you sit together in one of the many desk pairs, and drake uses this opportunity to annoy you any chance he gets. you give off the vibe that you don't want to talk to him. he doesn't get the hint. you don't tell him, though. maybe that's the problems. his shit-eating grin ticks you off when you look in his direction. "what?"

"let's be friends!"

"no."

"what? come on! don't be so cold!" he whines like a petulant child being told no.

"no."

"too bad! you're my friend now."

"tim," you sigh. it's wrong to scream. it's bad to scream. screaming leads to fights. fights lead to you laying in a pool of your own blood. laying in blood leads to missing practice. missing practice leads to less skill. less skill leads to less of a chance of getting the hell out of here. just smile. forgive and forget. know your persona. know who you are. kind. happy. funny. "fine." so you smile with gritted teeth. you smile like you played a cruel joke on him. "we can be friends... i guess."

his face brightens at your fake words like he is just given the the world.

tim drake wiggles his eyebrows playfully and nudges you with his elbow. "you know, i've been trying to get you to say that since school started?"

"really now?"

"really. i'm glad we're going to be friends. oh! should we go out to eat with zarian and jaylene after the meet?"

... there's a chance your mom's boyfriend will get pissed off. he'll probably beat the shit out of you since the track meet would have happened, and you wouldn't need to have an unblemished body for meets. he'd scream, yell, and punch... like his life depended on it... fuck it.

"yeah," you reply shortly after with a firm nod of your head. "we can go to this diner near the theater. i'm sure you'll love the food."

this doesn't mean you hate him any less. he's still rich scum⏤how you're poor scum. he's stuck up, pretentious, and sickeningly sweet. exactly what you hate. you just hope you can have a good time after the track meet. the mischievous glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

"and this is my dad, bruce wayne."

what the hell are you doing?

the sun is setting along the horizon, the air is getting cooler again, and you want to sink into the floor. the plan was to head straight to the diner after this, but rich the kid somehow roped you into meeting his dad?

nausea pools in your stomach from both hunger and the feeling of thousands of eyes staring at you. cameras are flashing at gotham's billionaire as he smiles and firmly shakes your hand. confidence drips off of him disgustingly. his high-tailored suit radiates wealth and money. his stoic demeanor gives off an aura of mystery. you want to lay on a railroad track with an incoming train speeding along the way.

"it's nice to meet you. tim has ranted about his track teammates quite a lot."

there's an eleven year old standing next to him. his eyes are on you like that of an owl's but you neither glance at him or bother to acknowledge him. you just want to eat some food before meeting your doom at that apartment for not placing first like your mom's boyfriend wanted you to. like a goat getting stuffed before slaughter. it always leads down to that. no matter how many times you try to wish it was different. no matter how many times you imagine it to be different. no matter how many times you try to make it different.

"nice to meet you too." you shake his hand as well with a polite smile on your face. polite. calm. gentle. proper. "and yeah, he seems very eager to be on the team."

"of course, of course. well, it is getting late. why don't you come over for dinner some time?"

"maybe tonight?" tim suddenly adds in. at your hesitant expression, he groans in exasperation. "who do you think we are? blood-sucking bats? come on, we can go to the diner some other time!"

you have just met him... you've just accepted being his friend... you aren't the most social person. you've never had much friends, but even you can understand that dinner with the family doesn't happen until the friend and person have come close in a long period of time. jaylene and zarian have other matters to tend to, so it's going to be just you and tim at a diner. not⏤

ding!

your phone's notification's alarm chimes, and when you check who has sent you a message, you feel like getting on the ground to pray to whatever deity for letting you have a moment of peace.

mom: ⏤he's heavily drunk. don't come home.

a part of you is hit with a strong current full of guilt. this is your mother. you're supposed to be there for her through thick and thin. you're supposed to protect her and be her wall of defense against monsters like him. family look out for each other. you have to take care of her... but she doesn't take care of you. this makes you a terrible person. you know that. she'll probably get beaten to an inch of her life and hide her heavy bruises under makeup that was terribly done in a rush. and then, she'll throw whatever object is in sight at you in a fury of anger.

telling you she made too many sacrifices for you. telling you that you're ruined her life. telling you that she should've aborted you like your father had told her to. telling you exactly what you believe yourself. a curse that should've never been born... she'll be beaten within an inch of her life. but you have already lost yours.

after pretending to text her and sliding your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, you nod with a sigh of joking resignation. "sure. i asked my mom, and she said it's okay."

"wonderful." mr. wayne nods and gestures to the limo you can see in the parking lot. a bit of overkill, perhaps.

honestly, you're still surprised that gotham's billionaire is inviting you to dinner. this man is the topic of magazines, and you're about to take a ride in his limo. how the hell have you ended up in a situation like this? fate is still fucking with you, isn't it?

you find yourself seated next to tim while mr. wayne and his youngest son, damian, sit on the seats to your right. they're talking about something, but once again, you find yourself half listening and zoning out, staring at nothing until mr. wayne's questions pulls you back to reality.

"so how has school been faring for you?" mr. wayne asks in a cool and collected tone.

you laugh lightly and smile as politely as ever. "pretty good. i hope to leave gotham after graduation to study somewhere else."

"who would want to stay in gotham?" tim rolled his eyes, rolling the first place medal between his fingers. "by the way, remember when i said you looked like someone i know? i was talking about my dad?"

your brows rise in both exasperation and annoyance at his claims. now he's just plain, out right trying to make fun of you in front of a billionaire. your shoulders tense, ready to refute his claims, but mr. wayne surprisingly chuckles and rubs his chin while taking a good look at your face. "well, i can see it, but there's eight billion people out there in the world. i'm bound to look like someone. though, i didn't expect for it to be someone as talented as [name] here."

you force a quiet laugh along at the sound of his tone. foreboding. you know tones like this. like he's hiding something that they all know except for you. it means you've made a mistake in even giving in to tim drake's constant begging. why the hell was he so eager to have you become his friend? why is he so eager to maintain a friendship with you? why the hell has mr. wayne invited you to dinner when he's rumored to be mysterious, secretive, and a literal brick wall that nobody can get past?

"you've achieved so much for a child your age." mr. wayne sets his gaze dead on you. "your father must be so proud."

and his eyes glimmer with that same shine you saw in tim's.

ewwww

this was not proofread so forgive me and uh, i will be turning this into a series

um also making a tag list if anyone wants to be a part of it

[lavender-bun]

Hands Off

REQUEST | protective rafe? like maybe theyre at a party and the reader gets into some trouble? LOVE UR WRITINGG

PAIRING | bf!rafe cameron x kook!fem!reader

WARNINGS | non-con touching (not by rafe ofc), drinking, protective!rafe

A/N | thank you!! I hope this is what you wanted haha 💕

            ◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

You were having the time of your life, just dancing and drinking, distracting yourself from the current family drama that was going on at home. Tonight you forbid yourself to think about any of it and Rafe was more than happy to help you out with that.

Right now you were practically grinding against him, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss. When he pulled back you were about to take another sip from your cup, frowning when you realized it was empty.

"I'll be right back." You shouted over the loud music, seeing how he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion so you raised your empty cup to show him.

He then nodded, capturing you lips in another quick kiss, watching you leave the dance floor. He turns to chat with Topper and Kelce to kill the time you weren't pressed against him.

You just finished filling your cup when you felt a hand snake around your waist. Smiling you turned around and were about to tease Rafe for being clingy. What you didn't expect was some random idiot you recognized from school, Ryan, when you remembered correctly.

"You're Y/n, right?" He asked and you nodded taking a step to the side so he wasn't touching you anymore.

You grabbed another empty cup to fill up for Rafe, and to avoid this awkward situation, hoping Ryan would get the message and just leave you alone.

Oh how wrong you were.

"Would you like to dance?" he tested the waters, grabbing the cup from your hands to fill it for you as if you're not capable yourself.

"Sorry, I'm not interested-" You quickly turned him down, reaching out to take the cup back but he held it away from your reach.

Either he's incredibly brave or stupid. You and Rafe were the kook couple from the outer banks. The island prince and princess who attend every event or party hand in hand.

"Come on, just one dance, then I'll leave you alone," he smirked.

You cringed on the inside, looking around for any sign of Rafe, or even Topper, cursing under your breath but still smiling like always and trying not to show how uncomfortable you actually were.

"I have a boyfriend." You said, expecting him to now awkwardly walk away but you're startled when he suddenly pulled you against him.

"I don't see him, you?" he whispered and now you were starting to panic, your heart pounding like crazy.

"You better take your fucking hands off my girl before I'll break them." Rafe's sudden voice had you sighing in relief.

Ryan quickly let go of you and you took a few steps back, bumping into Topper who pulled you behind him.

"What? You were all cocky a few seconds ago, what happened?" Rafe laughed, throwing his arm around Ryan's shoulder. "How about we go outside, hm? Have a nice chat?" he emphasized the word 'nice' with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

"I didn't-" he started to apologize but Rafe just dragged him away and outside with Kelce following right behind them.

You wanted to go after them but Topper stood in front of you, blocking your way out. "Whoa, don't worry about them, they'll be back soon."

"Top, we both know he won't go easy on him. Let me just-" You walked past him and he grabbed your arm, turning you back to face him.

"And he won't go easy on me either when he finds out I let you go and witness it." he reminded you and you rolled your eyes, fixing your dress and trying to brush off the uneasy feeling you have in your chest while Topper eyes you with genuine concern. "You good?"

"Mhm, just a little shaken up. I'm alright," you assured him.

You looked around, seeing Rafe coming back inside rubbing his knuckles while walking towards you. He was breathing heavily, and you reached up to fix a few strains of his hair.

Looking down at his hands you gasped softly, seeing how bruised his knuckles were. "Rafe..."

"Hey, I'm okay, you should see him," he smirked proudly and you hit his chest before burying your face in it.

He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head before asking. "Are you okay?"

You just nodded against him, holding onto his polo shirt to ground yourself. Rafe looks down at you and knows the night was done for. The only thing you wanted right now was laying in bed with him holding you close.

"Wanna go home?" he asked and the second you nodded he said quick goodbyes to his friends, leading you outside to his truck.

He helps you in and closes the door for you, rushing to get into the driver's side, starting the car, and turning onto the road. He places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it for reassurance.

"I love you." You told him, taking his hand in yours tightly.

"I love you more, baby." he flashed you a smile, kissing the back of your hand and focusing back on the road.

            ◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

[pomefioredove]

Hi Dove!!! Can I request headcanons of Vil with a reader who decided not to act on their feelings for him (he found out some other way) because they were worried he would brush off their confession as a shallow celebrity crush?

hehe I love a little drama

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ starstruck

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread

Vil had seen that look on your face from the moment your eyes met.

It was flattering. Knowing that he was an ethereal beauty in this world and yours was a compliment you hadn't even known you'd given him.

You were special. In your own right, and to him. You weren't like the others, whose love of him began and ended with his fame. You were his friend. Your love held weight.

Perhaps he had teased you about being starstruck one too many times...

"...I see," he says, fingers curling around the thin piece of notebook paper, as if it was trying to get away from him.

Vil had never looked so... so...

...His look was intense, the corners of his eyes crinkled in thought, his other hand covering the scowl on his perfect lips.

It's your handwriting. There's no doubt about that. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he tears his eyes away from the paper.

"Why did you bring me this?"

Silver looks almost... uncomfortable, out of place, standing in the Pomefiore lounge.

"I... just thought..." he mutters. "...I just thought I was helping."

You are, Vil thinks. More than you know.

"You are dismissed. Send my regards to Malleus. And tell him he has a fine underclassman on his hands,"

Silver's eyes widen, but he doesn't ask about the unexpected praise. He leaves Vil alone with the note, the note in your handwriting. The confession.

How stupid of you, he thinks. How could you think that he wouldn't feel the same...?

The note feels heavier than it should, your words leadened on the delicate paper.

I know you won't reciprocate, it says, I don't expect you to, but I don't want you to think that this is just some celebrity crush...

The rest of the confession is scribbled out, either from frustration, or embarrassment, or...

And it was left in a bin by the stables, where Sebek found it, who gave it to Silver, who gave it to Vil.

Who, now, can't seem to let it go.

.

Vil can't confront you about it like some... boy.

You need delicacy. You need assurance. He's not going to force the confession out of your throat. He doesn't need to.

This isn't about him. Or his ego.

"I'm happy you could find the time to see me. It's been ages since we've gotten together," he says, smoothing the face mask over your cheeks.

"You said you had something important to tell me,"

You speak rather bluntly. He chuckles. He can't tell if that's your nerves, or eagerness, or curiosity. But it's cute.

"I did," he says, and nothing more.

You blink. "...Did something happen?"

Yes, he thinks. "No,"

"...Are you going to tell me?"

"I am. Patience," he says, adding the final touches on your personalized face mask. A formula he made himself.

"Don't talk, or you'll crack it. Five minutes."

You nod, and once he's sure the mask has set, ensuring he'll talk without interruption, he begins.

"I first want you to know that there is nothing you could do that I would resent you for,"

You look like you want to say something, and he tsks, reminding you of the mask.

"...It's true that you annoy me, sometimes, but you should know by now that I find that quite endearing. We've become quite close. Closer than I would have thought. And I could never see you as nothing but a fan. You know you're more than that to me,"

You almost open your mouth, and he holds a finger to your lips with a gentle smile.

"And I have a feeling that I am more to you than a celebrity," he says. "Perhaps even more than a friend."

Finally, you're speechless. His features soften.

"And perhaps I think the same of you... but all I will say, for now, is that if there were anything you wanted to say... well, I've always got a spot open in my schedule for you. Understood?"

After a long moment of silence and staring, you nod. Vil smiles back.

"Good. Time's up. And then it'll be your turn to talk, and mine to listen,"

[webism]

★ sometimes, sukuna makes you ride his thigh instead of his lengthy fingers, or his sharp face or prodigious cock.

it's meant to be a punishment, a deprivation of what so often leaves you breathless and stupid, but you can't find fault in the muscled ridges of his thighs. maybe if your sharp-toothed lover was less active, less built, you'd struggle a bit more to find pleasure in his thigh.

you don't even know why you're being punished. it could be for your sharp tongue, or for touching yourself unpermitted, or for some other perceived sin. but as far as the space between you and ryomen stretches; he is the church and you are to kneel over his thick thigh and repent.

so repent you do. you rock your hips, grind down against his bare thigh as if seeking your own climax is apology enough for wronging your lover. if you wronged him, that is—sometimes sukuna punishes you unprovoked, the protests you give when you've really done nothing wrong get his dick hard. though you've cum more times you can count now, surely he can't punish you longer.

you can practically taste his cock it's so close, hard and throbbing and resting against his stomach just waiting to be doted on. you could reach out and grab it, and your fingers ache to feel the weight of his length against them, as does your tongue—but you know your ministries wouldn't go unpunished. and touching him when you're not permitted to doesn't reward you with the fun punishments like fucking yourself on his thigh; your ass would be sore for days.

"faster," his voice is steeled, painted nails digging into your hips. it hurts, how harshly he holds you, but it hurts in a searing way you'd miss if he were to let go. his touch is mean, you love it about him.

you oblige, rock your hips faster despite the sweat that pricks at your skin and the increasing work it takes for your lungs to provide you with enough oxygen to stay clear-headed. sukuna tsks, though, bares his teeth and forces you down harder against his solid thigh. it's a mess of your lust, glossy with your slick and you don't doubt he'll have you clean him up once you're too fucked out to think. perhaps with a cooling bath; perhaps with your tongue.

"you're a mess," he chides. "fucking filthy. stupid brat, so dumb and you're not even taking my cock. you couldn't."

harder, he presses your cunt against his thigh, pulls you to grind down on him. your desperation isn't lost on you, but sukuna's words prick at your stomach.

"i could. let me, please, i want—"

"you want?" he growls. "you don't want. you need my cock, brat, and i'm denying you a necessity."

you know he gets off on using you like this, playing with your threshold for pleasure. just how many orgasms can he rip out of you using his thigh alone? he's controlling your movements like you're the toy despite the lack of physical stimulation he gets from this. he's fucking you mindless and all he's doing is sitting nice and still for you.

when he manages another orgasm out of you, the slurred mewls of 'too much' falling of his deaf-by-choice ears, you realise your punishment isn't pleasure. it is the denial of himself: your newfound addiction, his reverent touch. he won't give you his cock, his tongue, his fingers or even the heel of his palm. all you get is his thigh, and you unravel from that alone. he finds it pathetic and all too erotic in the same breath.

is there really any denying you if he can draw pleasure from you using just the frame of his build?

thanks sutton for star hehe its so fun. i need to write more two-dick-sukuna writing him with one dick here felt wrong

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[wolfisland]

hi. please help me get out of an abusive living situation. like please. lol. please.

tl;dr: i'm dylan. i'm a disabled indigenous australian bisexual trans person and i have to get myself and my pets out of a physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive house. i have reached an agreed upon date of the 8th of november at the latest, but there's no guarantee this won't be changed as circumstances here are extremely unstable. more under the cut if you care for specifics.

rbs help more than you can imagine. thanks.

❤️‍🩹

i've had my belongings trashed, my animals threatened (as well as my dog neglected severely), things pelted at me, punches thrown, threats made, i have been prevented from accessing medication and medical care, my car withheld, i have been forced into circumstances of dependency on this woman that have been used against me as justification for further abuse, and while i was hoping to make it to early next year here til i saved enough to find a better place, it literally just isn't safe for me to do so.

previously this woman has choked me out and hit me in the face before in front of family, thrown glasses and mugs at me, smashed my things, taken my money. this is why i desperately tried to leave earlier before i was kicked out previously, and i'd been forced to move back as a last resort as i would've been otherwise homeless.

i was in the icu for a suicide attempt after the loss of my job and an incident with another predatory and abusive family member, an attempt that has caused lasting cognitive issues, caused a burn out that left me mostly bed and house bound for that 6-8 month period, intense and debilitating flare ups, and has contributed to significant mental health episodes that cause me to lose time.

i had been convinced over a period of 6-8 months that i would be safe to return and that things would be different. please do not think less of me for being stupid enough to believe her. i had no one else to turn to and nowhere else to go, she begged me to come home. after so much time apart i made the mistake of believing her. i won't again.

the stress that i'm under here has caused my mental and physical health to tank, and left me struggling to take basic care of myself let alone manage tasks around the house, which has only further provoked abuse. it's essentially been a cycle of abusing me to a point of being unable to function and then abusing me as a punishment for being unable to function. i can barely keep track of where and when i am let alone keep track of the majority of a house.

i came here as a last resort and it has caused me far more damage than any good. i'm in an isolated rural area and have little to no support system aside from my caseworkers who are trying to help me leave again.

i would appreciate help to rent a storage shed for my belongings as anything i leave will be tossed, as well as a spot for my car as i'm unable to drive it yet without a fully licensed driver supervising. i also have medication to pay for, one of which is $120 per prescription and part of my pain treatment plan. this is something she has used against me, many times before. everything else will be saved and put towards rent if i can find a place in time (and motel fees if i can't) food, transport, and toiletries etc.

i have had more breakdowns and episodes here than i can count. i can't keep living like this. it has set me back in so many ways. i have tried to proofread this multiple times but my brain's not fully functioning right now.

thank you for your time.

[ellecdc]

elle, my love. my darling. could I be the biggest pest and request maybe something with our beloved barty jr? like maybe you know of him but don’t really know him but someone is bugging you at a party and you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend and he plays the role just a little too well?

Ilysm darling 🖤

for you, sab? anything

Barty Crouch Junior x fem!reader who asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend

CW: harassment - a guy won't leave reader alone at a bar, drinking/bar culture, there is perhaps one sentence that is sort of explicit but the rest is PG and then fades to black

You had tried everything to shake this guy off of you; from polite no thank you’s, to hiding in the loo, to pretending not to notice when he was standing right beside you. You had even attempted the tried-and-true “I have a boyfriend”, to which he simply replied “I don’t see him anywhere”. 

You were soon going to resort to a well-timed uppercut, and though you did think the man deserved a good fist to the nose, you weren’t quite willing to resort to violence - yet. 

You were ducking behind raised arms and navigating around bodies in an attempt to rid yourself of your tormentor when salvation came in the form of an unlikely classmate.

“Junior!” You whisper shouted - a name you heard many of his friends refer to him as - as you slid in between him and the bar he was lazily sat at; if you could call what he was doing sitting. He was perched, possibly less than half of each arse cheek actually on the stool, with both of his legs splayed out in a way that would get anyone else punched in the teeth for daring to take up so much room at a bar, but he blended in like he was simply part of the decor. 

“Do I know you, sugar?” He drawled from the rim of his cup; green eyes scrutinizing you though he seemed no less pleased by your proximity due to his unfamiliarity with you. 

“I- sorry, we have statistics together?”

Barty simply swallowed his sip and continued staring at you.

“Mondays and Wednesdays? 1:30 to 3:00?” You clarified. 

He blinked slowly at that.

“With Professor Flitwick.”

“Yeah, yeah; third row from the back, prefers taking handwritten notes but insists on hauling your laptop ‘round with you too which acts as no more than a glorified paperweight. You have a fuzzy jumper that you wear almost everywhere.” 

“I- well…yeah?”

“Right, so how does that bring us here?” He continued as if you had been the one making this conversation particularly difficult. 

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” You blurted.

“Okay.” Barty agreed readily with a shrug as he placed his now empty cup on the bar. “Why?”

Stunned somewhat stupid by his willingness, you suddenly remembered that you had someone pursuing you. 

“There’s this bloke-”

“Which bloke?” He cut you off, sliding one of his legs between both of yours before pulling you towards him so you were just about straddling his thigh. 

In an attempt to hide your blush at Barty’s blaseness, and what you would later tell yourself was you simply trying to lean into the part of girlfriend, you nuzzled into Barty’s side to purvey the surrounding crowd. 

“That guy there, with the beanie.” You whispered into his ear as you gestured towards the guy; swallowing the surprised yelp that threatened to escape your lips when you felt Barty’s possessive protective arm tighten around your middle. 

“Well…” Barty murmured quietly, turning his chin back towards you; his lips hovering just over your collarbone. “That just won’t do, will it?”

You shook your head quickly, ignoring the racing of your heart, the way that the bass vibrated through your core, or the heat that was beginning to pool inside of you as he propped up his knee so that you were now officially straddling his thigh.

“Has he been bugging you, doll?” He asked lowly then, bringing his hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your waist to push a lock of hair away from your face. 

“He won’t leave me alone.” You whispered; finding yourself embarrassingly close to tears for the first time all night, simply because some random guy who showed up to perhaps half of your shared statistics classes (though he somehow still had perfect scores) was offering you his protection.

A sympathetic dent in between Barty’s eyebrows formed at your words as he pouted at you. “My poor girl.” He all but purred as he brought his face mere millimeters away from yours before bumping his nose to your own. “How do you want this to go?” He whispered.

“Whichever way it needs to so that he’ll leave me alone.”

Apparently not needing any further directions, Barty slotted your lips together with an intensity that had your head ringing as he pulled you higher up onto his lap; body’s so close you were almost certain you could feel his heartbeat in your own chest. 

His hand that was wrapped around your waist started to slide up the back of your shirt where he rubbed the skin of your lower back, as the other rested just under your jaw, his touch far softer and more delicate than the way in which he kissed you.

You leaned further into him, whimpering at the sensation of your core sliding tantalizingly against his denim pants; the thin satiny material of your panties no match for the electricity of feeling so wholly consumed by Barty Crouch Junior.

You’d almost forgotten this was all a ruse when Barty abruptly pulled away from you.

“Oi! You got a fuckin’ problem?” He shouted at your stalker, garnering the attention of a few bar patrons around you.

You sunk impossibly further into Barty’s side at the attention, and relished in the gentle strokes he brushed at the skin of your hip in response. 

“Is there a problem?” One of the bartenders barked then; looking a certain brand of intense you supposed was likely part of the training to be a bartender at a club in a college town. 

“This tosser’s been bothering my girl all night.” Barty responded simply, weaseling his other arm around your middle as he returned his attention back to you. “You okay, sugar?” 

You nodded at him and rested your forehead against his as you let out a steadying breath. “Thank you.”

Barty snorted at that. “‘Course, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t look out for my girl, hm?” 

You chuckled breathlessly before smiling softly at him, noticing that he was doing the same as his emerald gaze darted between your eyes.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispered as he dared to inch his hand further up your back.

God, did you ever.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I know you don't always like to do smut (I'm a writer too, I get having to be in the right mood), so don't feel pressured to add smut to this one!

I was thinking that Eddie would be sitting at the table with the hellfire guys and reader teases him walks up behind him to whisper something sexy in his ear (maybe like plans for later, something she bought, etc). Anyway, he let's out some kinda noise, and the guys just will not drop it. They pick on him throughout the day for it

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Bully friends

Eddie laughed along with the boys as they focused on their breakfast. He picked at his bag of pretzels when he felt two hands on his shoulders. The hands moved down to his chest, rubbing him softly. He shifted in his seat, turning his head to the side to see his girlfriend standing behind him.

"What's up, babe?" He asked, smiling at up her. She smiled and leaned down, her lips perfectly fitting against his. He happily kissed her back, loving the way her hands kept rubbing his chest.

She took notice that the boys were looking at them when they pulled away. And also noticed Eddie's jacket covering her hands.

She leaned down to his ear, keeping her hands on his chest. She pressed a teasing kiss to his earlobe, making him shiver. She loved how easy it was to get him turned on.

"Remember that fantasy you wanted to try?" she whispered. Eddie felt his mouth go dry, chanting yes in his head. "I finished the outfit, and picked up the toys yesterday." Her fingers moved to his nipple, giving it a small tug.

"Hng" Eddie whimpered, his eyes huge as he released it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Y/N smiled and enjoyed his reaction. Already knowing tonight would be a very enjoyable night.

The boys waited for her to walk away before they all erupted in laughs.

"Someone heard something good," Gareth teased, nudging Eddie.

"Shut up," Eddie groaned, a tad embarrassed his friends heard the noise he let slip out.

"Why do you say that?" Dustin asked, not understanding the situation.

Eddie felt his face burn

"Means he's getting laid!" Mike said, holding up his hand to give Eddie a high-five. But Eddie sent him a glare, and Mike slowly dropped his hand.

~

Eddie thought the boys would drop it, but he was wrong. The first period started and Gareth sat next to him with that stupid look on his face.

"So, tell me what is happening tonight that made you "hng"" Gareth said, mimicking the sound Eddie made in a high-pitched voice.

Eddie groaned and shoved his arm.

~

By the time lunch came, Eddie was not excited to listen to his friends. Gareth would not get off his back about it, constantly teasing him.

Eddie sat down and it didn't take long for the boys to start.

They all mimicked Eddie's whimper, calling the attention of people around them.

"Will you quit it!" Eddie hissed, nervously looking around. He felt like he was holding his breath when Y/N arrived and sat next to him.

The boys went silent, but all stared at her. She looked around the table, "yes?"

"They won't leave me alone for what happened earlier! Make them stop," Eddie demanded, crossing his arms as he looked to his girlfriend for help.

"What happened?" she asked, a smirk forming on her face, "you mean when you whimpered like a needy boy?"

Eddie looked at her in shock as his cheeks burned bright red. "Y/N!"

The boys laughed, loving that she seemed to be on their side.

"Damn, Munson. I didn't think you'd be the bottom." Lucas snickered. High-fiving the table as they laughed.

"I am not a bottom!" Eddie growled, standing up from his chair.

"Oh right, because big dominant men say hng and whimper," Mike said as he rolled his eyes.

Eddie's eyes went dark as he looked at the table.

"You know what, watch your backs. I'm going to make you regret mocking me," he growled. The heat in his eyes was scary enough to make the table fall silent.

"And for you," he said, turning his attention to his girlfriend. She silently gulped. A big smirk on his face that made her clench her thighs. He walked behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "I'm going to fuck your big mouth until you can't speak."

The boys watched with curiosity as Y/N's eyes went wide and she slightly coughed on her spit.

Eddie had a huge victory smile on his face as he walked away.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunsonmain @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[minus-plus-zer0]

While You're Gone

♡ Genre: Fluff, not as sad as the title sounds ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, clingy/pining/dorky/needy/loser Bakugou (aka regular Bakugou)

You abandoned Bakugou at home to buy groceries alone, you traitor.

Bakugou couldn't forgive this. Currently, he laid flat on the couch, face down. Once you got back, he wouldn't let you rest your weary feet on such a comfy spot. You'd have to deal with him, whether you liked it or not.

He couldn't believe how truly callous you were on the inside. It went against everything he knew of you. Bakugou had dated you for a few years now, and had been in love with you even prior to that. He was dead set on marrying you at this point. And yet... you betrayed him.

He easily recalled the moment, like it was only five minutes ago (it was).

"It won't be long, Katsuki!" you said, while opening your apartment front door. "I promise I'll get you a nice, tasty snack!"

"I'm not a dog, I don't need treats." Bakugou's hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he approached you. "I need my fucking girlfriend. It's our day off!"

"You have your girlfriend every single night," you said, patting his cheek. "You live with your girlfriend every single day of your life. And you kiss your girlfriend every morning before work. You are too needy if you want more than that."

He scowled but did not fight back against your intrusive hand. "A girlfriend is supposed to love me, not leave. Why can't I just go with you?"

"Because if we go together, we'll get distracted again, or you might start another argument with an elderly shopper, or you might even prevent me from making bad purchases! That's why you can't go!"

"But that's--"

"Goodbye, Katsuki! I will see you in a few hours!"

You shut the door behind you. He still couldn't believe it, even now.

As you left, you wondered to yourself one question that had always been on your mind, "What does Bakugou do while you are gone?" If you had a pet camera installed, you would've seen the antics your boyfriend got up to in the following moments...

Time passed by while Bakugou held down the fort. Although Bakugou tried to continue defending the couch, his boredom overwhelmed his spitefulness towards you and it forced him to do something productive.

While you were gone, Bakugou entered argument after argument with anyone he could to blow off some steam. His texts were filled with jabs at Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and more. It wasn't long until they correctly guessed that Bakugou's bad mood was due to your absence. Bakugou swiftly blocked them.

When he couldn't complain to other people, Bakugou sometimes grumbled to himself, speaking to nobody as he vented about his day.

"Stupid couch..."

"Stupid food..."

"Stupid bills! Fuck you!"

Occasionally, Bakugou thought you came home early. He would then poke his head around the house, checking to see if you were home. But more often than not it was just the sound of his neighbors' doors opening and closing, and he grew even more irritated than before. You weren't answering your texts either.

What's worse, there were little reminders of you all around the house. It was only natural, seeing as how you two lived here together. Every time Bakugou started focusing on something negative, he'd be reminded of you and how you'd scold him for thinking that way. It felt like you were still scolding him, even now. He missed it already.

Without you around, Bakugou persisted in his negativity. He would walk down to the ground floor of the apartment complex you lived in to get mail and still managed to yell at a minimum of one person during the trip. Bakugou wouldn't stray far from home knowing that you could be back at any minute, and returned soon enough to double-check if you arrived while he wasn't looking. You didn't.

While cleaning up, Bakugou found some clothes that you stole from him in your dresser. He stole them right back and replaced them with other clothes he owned that he thought would look even better on you, hoping you would surprise him one day by wearing them. He thought of himself as quite clever for doing so, and couldn't wait to see when his masterful plots came to fruition.

After cleaning the house, prepping dinner, and fulfilling his daily quota of pissing off a certain number of innocent individuals, Bakugou was exhausted. He had nothing productive left to do. He couldn't get involved in his normal hobbies like working out or hiking because it would take too much time and the day was almost over. He needed you home.

Finally, you opened the door while lugging around heavy groceries. "Katsuki! I'm here!"

"Dammit, text first!" Bakugou rose from the couch to take a bag from your arms.

"Thank you," you said, as you both set the groceries down on the kitchen counter. You kissed him on the lips quickly, but he retaliated with a much stronger kiss that pushed you back a step.

"Your welcome," Bakugou said, teasingly. "Got so bored without ya here. There's only reminders of you around the house."

"Well, it's probably 'cause I live here." You laughed a little and hugged him. Obviously he hugged back. "You can think of me all the time all you want. I give you my full permission."

"So you're haunting my head now, are ya?" Bakugou kissed the top of your head.

"I've always haunted you!" You kissed his chin. "Even before we were together! And I'll haunt you long after I'm gone..."

"Don't say that. I don't want ya gone." He harshly kissed your sweet lips again to prove he was telling the truth. He held your precious face in his hands. "We'll always be together."

"Always. So, what did you do while I was gone?"

"Tch. Why don't you stay home next time? Then you'd know."

You really needed to install that pet camera one of these days...

(Inspired by videos of "what does your cat do while you're away?", only instead of a cat it's your boyfriend! I think the clingy separation anxiety of these cats left at home perfectly matches Bakugou 110%!)

[theorist-fox]

The concept of Bad Man Simon Riley who's aware he's a Bad Man™️ is one I hold very dear to me.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon Riley is, fully and completely, what people envision as a bad man. He's a convoluted character who carries a lot of baggage, and that same weight has crushed him into the beast he is today.

His reflection is his constant reminder of the bad things he's done and endured. And when you have such a blatant, ever-present memento of how dark you really are, it's hard to forget.

He doesn't bother putting up a facade. Won't help the lady cross the street, nor will he take a bullet for someone else. No one has ever done that for him, so it's only natural to give the world a taste of its own medicine. He doesn't even try; it just happens.

It takes him nothing to leave Soap behind in Las Almas and find shelter in an abandoned church. Sure, he'll cover for him—if the lad is fast enough, that is. Saving Alejandro afterwards is a mere ploy to make this blasted mission end sooner—true, no one fights alone, but he'd like to get out of there as soon as possible, thank you very much.

Barely brushes the concept of Price's injury when he faints due to the inhalation of some Sarin gas of sorts. Can only think that if he'd died, he would have to take the captain's place in leading the operation. A fucking bummer alright—but cap's fine, thankfully, right? One less thing to worry about now.

Won't try to start relationships, because what good can he bring when he can't even drop a kind word for himself? He's awful, inside and out, and he's aware.

What happens, then, when he's suddenly loved?

What happens, then, when you're sliding under his skin, pretending you don't see the rot and the grime?

The question of "why" is pinned to the front of his brain like an annoying leech that plagues him day and night.

On the couch, you're absolutely unbothered by his dark presence next to you. You're just munching on popcorn and watching some film he doesn't even remember the name of.

"Y'should go," he says out of the blue.

You barely spare him a glance. "Film's not over yet."

No, that isn't what he meant, but he has an inkling that you've gathered that already.

"Ain't good for ya," he insists. "Ain't good for anyone, but that's a whole 'nother story."

You side-eye him from your end of the couch. "Self-deprecating at dinner time? Could you move it up the schedule a little, like—breakfast or somethin'."

He doesn't understand. Won't get through his skull. Share a home with him, and for what? What's he giving you that you're coveting so hard, enough to find it easy to snark back at a beast like him—poking the bear while wearing flimsy cotton shorts and a band t-shirt?

"Y'don't understand," he grits out. "I ain't a good man, love."

"Oh, I know." You say, popping a handful of popcorns in your mouth. "And?"

It irks him. Wants to bite off your head, but, surprisingly, he still has morals, and he wouldn't even dare touch you with ill intent.

"Don't act stupid, now." He warns.

"Ain't acting stupid." You reply as if there is some obvious thing he isn't getting. "You've done bad things, and bad things were done to you. That it?"

He hums as a frown paints his face.

"Should I love you less?" You go on, "Or not love you at all?"

"The latter."

"Wrong." You add as soon as he responds. "Wrong, because that's what you believe, not the truth."

He cocks a brow at your apparent arrogance. A nod in your direction, "What's the truth, then?"

You place the bucket of popcorn on the coffee table. "Truth is that you're human, Simon."

Now that's a word he wouldn't associate with himself.

Monster. Beast. Bear. Wraith, or demon. Ghost.

"As a person, good and bad can coexist—there is no such thing as night and day." You go on, seemingly unaware of the turmoil you've unleashed on his poor heart.

Keep saying the word person around him this often, and he'll start believing he is one.

So, you have seen the rotten flesh and the mud coating his insides. You have buried your hands in his viscera and coated your skin with his blood and the one he's spilled.

You know, and yet you're here. You're here because you've also seen something else, something he's not aware is there.

Same thing that made his heart lurch when Price wasn't waking up. Same thing that made him hide, prone in the bell tower of a Mexican church, making sure Soap would get back in one piece.

Same thing that has him gaze at you now, with eyes that sting with clear, fresh water. No rotting liquid, no oozing pus, or sickening blood.

You shrug, "Maybe your sun is a little eclipsed, but there's that. I can still see it, y'know?"

You outstretch your leg. Press the tips of your toes against his thigh. The world is suddenly in technicolor, and his chest warms like a rekindled flame.

You wink. "And it's bright as hell, too."

[leah-lover]

Second chances. Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

summary : the confrontation between alexia and R.

Alexia always had a hold on you. Her stare would often captivate you and suck the air out of each room you were in. being stuck with her in the physio room, her muscular thighs on full display, was your worst nightmare. Her eyes seemed to devour every part of you and yours couldnt shy away from doing the same. There you both were 4 years after that night still looking at each other like nothing mattered in the world but the person in front of you. Your heart made it  its purpose to quickly remind you of the gaping hole she left in it. You remembered the amount of tears she drew from your eyes, and the delay she caused to your success and career. You shifted in your seat and looked away from her. You reminded yourself that the person in front of you wasn't  the love of your life anymore but the one that destroyed you. 

“ You don't know how many times I imagined us talking like this. I planned this speech many times but now that i have to do it i can't recall a word.” she says breaking the silence. Her voice was shaky which wasn't something you were used to. You hardly ever saw alexia nervous and fidgety which was interesting to witness. You didn't say a word though. You kept your composure as you always did and let her speak her mind. 

“ uhmm. I am sorry. I know that i fucked up really badly. I shouldn't have acted like that that night. I should have fought for you. Fought for us. I should have reprimanded Irene and done everything in my power to help keep us together but I was a coward. I chose the easy road. You don't know how sorry I am. I regret everything and if  I could go back I would stop you from leaving or leave with you.” 

You fantasized many times about what alexia would say if she was to apologize. What you dreamt of sounded like what she said but coming from her it didn't sound as satisfying as would have hoped. It  only made you angrier. You tried to keep your composer because it was your default setting. Your face was as emotionless as you could have it but your blood was boiling in your veins. You waited for her to add something but she didn't. . she was shaking and her eyes were glued on you. 

Realizing that she was done you got up to leave. She quickly hurried to your side. “ So you won't say anything?” she asked, nervousness clear in her voice. “ I said I would hear you out and I did.”  you respond with a monotone voice. 

“ Please say something.” she pleaded. 

“ What do you want me to say? You want me to say that you are forgiven. You are not. You destroyed me and for that I will hate you forever.” 

“ You don't mean that.” 

“ I don't mean what? The part where I said you destroyed me or the part where I said I hate you.” your voice was undermining and insulting which made her body visibly tense. 

“ I was in love with you and you chose you before me. You chose your career before me. You chose your family and friends before me. And what?  you think i am sorry and I regret everything would make me forgive you and come back to you.” you voice and body language were cruel. You laughed at her, undermined her presence and belittled her just with your tone. You saw her shrink before your eyes. You didn't mean to or maybe you did. But the image in front of you made your heart ripe.

“ I was dead without you. I couldnt breath, sleep, or eat. I thought that you would come after me and tell me that I am to you worth more than some stupid trophies or a legacy. I thought that you wanted to continue your life with me and that that night was just a mistake But you didn't. You left me alone and unemployed. You ruined me. You broke me. I had to learn how to breathe again. I had to learn how to sleep in my bed alone. I had to train my brain not to think about you  and not to try and hold out hope that you wanted me. You made me feel unloved and undeserving of everything.” you saw tears escape her eyes and stain red cheeks. 

“ I am stupid. I don't deserve you or  a second chance. But I can't help but miss you and need you. All I have is this stupid job and my memories of you. I replay them every night before I go to bed. I replay how my lips  felt on yours and how your head felt on my chest.  I should have come after you and told you that I love you more than anything but my ambition stood in the way. I thought that my career and the approval of my family  would fill the void in my heart but I was wrong. I love you. “ 

You two stood there with your hearts laid bare. You know how she felt and she knew how you felt. 

“ After all this time I love you too alexia.” you took a deep breath and you saw her eyes light up. “ But I can't trust you. I went through so much pain and anger. I don't think that I am capable of moving past it to be with you.” you swiped her tears away with your thumbs and gave her a quick peck on her lips. She didn't fight back, she wanted more but you stepped away from her and left the room. 

As soon as the door closed behind you tears streamed down your face as you ran away from the hallway. 

You were the last one to board the bus. You saw a glimpse of alexia whose head was lying on mapi's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were red and your heart was no longer able to keep your feelings for her dormant. Two voices were screaming at you. One was reminding you of how much you love her and the other reminding you of how much she hurt you. You put on your headphones to try and drown out the noise that tortured you. 

Midnight found you awake, the image of alexia’s crying face was burned into your memory. A knock on your door stopped you from cursing yourself for thinking about going back to her. When you opened the door you found Irene in front of you. 

“ Can I come in?” she asked. You stepped aside to let her in. 

“ I am a jerk.” she stated. “ Yeah you are.” you responded. 

 “ You haven't done anything to hurt me but I have done everything to hurt you. I was young, jealous, and angry. Everything that happened was on me and it was my fault. And for that I apologize. I knew that night that it would hurt you and get you to leave so I did it. I was a child jealous that her best friend found love and she didn't. I am not excusing my behavior which was wrong. I am giving you a much needed apology.” 

“ Thank you.” you respond. 

“ alexia loves you. She is deeply in love with you.” 

“ Irene, stop.” you interrupt her. 

“ She truly loves you and she truly is sorry for everything. She would do anything to be with you again. She was a mess when you left. That's why I didn't want you to take the job. I knew how much she had gone through and how much she still loves you. And when I looked at you I saw that you too still loved her. In  an effort to save my friend I was rude to you. Hate me but please try to find the will to forgive her.” 

You didn't know what to do with what she told you. Your heart was burning for Alexia and you knew now that hers yearned for you too. 

You pick up your phone and look at her contact. Will you forgive her or shut her out again?

[reareaotaku]

I Can't Lose You

Summary: After almost losing you, Five goes through extreme measures to make sure you're safe Pairings: Yandere! Five Hargreeves x Reader Tw/Cw: Protective Five, Open-ending

It all happened so fast, even for Five. If he had seen it coming, he would have gotten you out of there, but he wasn't expecting those stupid white-haired brothers to show up. When you had been shot, thankfully nowhere vital, he nearly lost it. Past Five would have killed them, but you were his priority, so he made sure to get you out of there.

"Oh, god- Fuck, are you okay?" It's not a real question, just something to bring Five some sort of comfort. He rips off sleeves, before pushing the fabric on your wound, hoping to control the blood, instead of having his hands get bloody trying.

"Five," You grab his bicep, causing him to look up at you. "I'm fine."

He frowns, letting go of the make-shift sleeve bandage he had made. He lifts up his blood-covered hands, "Fine? You're bleeding out because you were shot. What the fuck were you thinking?" He's angry and he knows he shouldn't direct it at you, but he hates the feeling of worry, guilt, and fear you made him feel.

"What was *I* thinking? What do you mean WHAT WAS I THINKING?! I didn't shoot MYSELF!"

He groans, putting his hands back on the wound. He doesn't respond to your words, frustrating you.

"Well?"

He looks up at you, his eyes down casted and a frown overtaking his face. He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair, "I was just..." He pulls his hands down his face, "Forget it- It's nothing. Don't worry about what I said."

You were a little taken aback, because if there's one thing about Five, it's that he stuck by what he said.

---

You awoke in a bed, looking around the strange room. You were alone and your wound was patched up. You click your tongue, before sitting up and yawning while rubbing the side of your face. You move to the side of the bed, finally standing off, before holding the side of your stomach when a sharp pain shoots through you.

You hear the click of the door and quickly look towards it. It was Five and he had a muffin- or at least what looked like a muffin.

He looks up at you, before quickly coming over to you and making you sit back down, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Your brows scrunch as you shrug, "I was just going to walk and move a little-"

"No, just stay here. You're safe here."

You roll your eyes, before crossing your arms. Why was he being like this? He was acting like you were a porcelain doll that would break if grabbed to hard.

He ignores your pouting before handing you the muffin. "Here, I got you something to eat. And drink the water," He gestures to a water bottle that was on the nightstand, "You lost a lot of blood. You're going to have to be more careful, because I don't want to bandage you up again." He looks up at you before an annoyed look overtakes his face, "Do you know how embarrassing and hard it was to explain when they asked why you didn't have a shirt on and my hands all over you while you were unconscious?"

"What happened to them?"

"Who- The Swedes?" He tilts his head, before looking at your covered wound, "They left after you were shot. I think they think you're dead."

"Why?"

"Because they're idiots," He shakes his head like it was the most obvious answer. "Though, that's good for us. If they think you're dead, they won't come after you and you'll be safe."

"Sounds like you're telling me to stay inside to be 'safe'." You joke but by the way Five looked back up at you it wasn't a joke. You quickly stand up, "You're kidding- I'm not staying here-"

He stands up, pushing you back down on the bed, "Yes you are. You're safe here- This is were you're staying and I don't care if that upsets you."

"You can't control me!" You yell at him, which causes his face to scrunch up.

"So, you think. You're not leaving my sight or out of where I know you are."

"So you think locking me up will keep me safe?"

"Yes!"

"Why! It was one time!"

He turns away from you, holding his face in his hands. He couldn't talk to you. Not now. He was to caught up and he'd say something he'd regret.

"What are you so afraid of?"

He finally breaks and turns towards you, "Because I can't lose you! You almost died! Okay, are you happy?! Fuck," His nails dig into his scalp and he looks away from you. He rubs his temple before sighing, "I don't... know what I'd if I lost you and.... Well, for the first time in my life, I was scared."

You're surprised by his confession, especially since he never told you his feelings before.

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it?" He looks back at you surprised.

You shake your head, "I'm just surprised."

"Yeah," He sits on the edge of the bed, before fiddling with your hand, "You know, when you were bleeding out it was awful." You looked at your hands that were now intertwined, "I know I don't say it, but I do care about you and I just want you to be safe."

"Yeah, I know, but I can defend myself. There's nothing for you to be worried about."

"Yeah, I know... But I can't help it."

"Yeah, you do worry a lot, but I promise nothing bad's going to happen."