#and by that i mean we have the same skin picking habit that i don’t see other people talk about very often

[eyeballsoup7310]

She’s the only one who gets me

[cultofdixon]

Only you understand

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • There’s only one person on Daryl’s good side and it’s not even his brother. So when certain decisions led to leaving Merle chained to a roof, you were the one to talk to the youngest Dixon • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Unprotected Sex / Groping / Grinding • TW: Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

She’s heard it all

Y/N I could use a favor?

Got a second Y/N?

Mind talking to them, Y/N?

Sweetheart, can I pick your ear about something?

It all falls around the same thing. Asking the Dixon Brothers for anything…mainly for help acquiring food within the woods that the sickos haven’t taken for themselves. But they did everything she asked. Some thought it was because Merle would do anything and everything for her attention even if she doesn’t give him an ounce of anything.

But it’s really Daryl. Y/N is the only one that the youngest Dixon brother tolerates and some, more like Glenn alone, believes the Dixon likes her personally.

“Y/N…we need yea for something” Dale didn’t mean to disturb the girl when she was in the middle of another batch of squirrels she was skinning to prepare for the stew.

“Dale. This must be serious” Y/N half jokes as she wipes her knife off with her rag. “You’re usually not the one to ask me for help”

“Right well, you know the drill” Dale frowns removing his bucket hat and squeezing it out of nervous habit. “This isn’t gonna go well”

“If it’s anything like Daryl and Shane fighting over a little dispute about hunting grounds, I think I can handle—-“

“Lori’s husband came back with the Atlanta group, but they left Merle behind hand cuffed to roof” Dale stated without hesitating or letting Y/N process as she drops everything to go check on Lori for another personal matter that almost everybody knows about before thinking of the words to tell Daryl when he returns from his hunting trip.

When Y/N made herself known to the man that left the eldest Dixon behind as she felt a sense of warmth with the family reunion. But she knew that was going to be cut extremely short if Daryl gets his hands on him.

“You’re the Rick guy?”

“You must be Y/N, the resident Dixon whi—-“

“If you call me that stupid fucking shit that Shane came up with, I will hit you in front of your son” Y/N frowns watching Rick zip his lips to let her get to it. “What’s your plan here?”

“I don’t think I get what you mean” Rick laughs slightly only to immediately stop when it wasn’t getting anywhere with Y/N. “Are you talking about getting Merle back? I think we can do a bit of justice without the racist son of a bitch”

“Oh believe me, I agree wholeheartedly with that. But he’s not your family. I think you can agree that if it were you that got left behind, that you would want someone to come and find you” Y/N watches his expression fall making her cross her arms and stand her ground. “Right. You understand that completely and no one came to bring you back”

“Now that’s uncalled for, Y/N” Shane interrupts only for Y/N to take her leave on that note, picking up her axe from beside the put out fire pit.

“Sit with it, Shane. Call me when you have a plan, I have to try and keep his ass from being killed by the man who’s brother you left on that roof” as Y/N leaves the group to follow a familiar hunting ground to find the archer, Rick was left thinking about what she said.

No one came back for him.

The next day came around and the woods were quiet until they weren’t…

“Stupid fucking shit” Daryl curses under his breath over another deer being eaten by another walker.

As he knelt down to get a look at the damage to see if he could take any of the meat back, he heard a shift in the woods. The archer quickly rose to his feet aiming his crossbow and when the figure didn’t make themselves known, he fired.

Daryl instantly tensed when Y/N made herself known with an annoyed expression at him and the arrow in the tree beside her head.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I should be askin’ yea the same thing!” Daryl scoffs taking the arrow from her hand once she pulled it out. “I could’ve killed yea”

“Yeah well you’d do me a favor” The one thing he hated about her was her joking about death. “You gotta head back”

“Yeah?” Daryl scoffs putting his arrow away. “Ran out of food?”

“No, I’ve given them my squirrels to make a stew out of. But this is more of a matter regarding your idiotic brother”

Why did you give them the food I caught for—-“Wait. Merle? Is he back?”

“Daryl no he—-“ Daryl brushes past Y/N causing her to quickly deflate and follow him back to the campsite.

“Swear, yea think I don’t know they get yeah to talk to me about my idiot brother”

“I mean would you rather have Shane talk to you about Merle? Now Daryl come on. I gotta tell yea—-“ Y/N stops herself when he rose his hand indicating he heard something.

Daryl gave her a quick sign that it was another deer and then Y/N decided to take a second to put the Merle conversation on the back burner.

“They never make it this far up the mountain” Dale frowns staring at the walker that Jim had finished off once the group addressed the children’s screaming.

“They are running out of food in the city” Jim states stepping away from the carcass and the undead beside it.

Before any of them thought of walking back, that’s when the bushes started to rustle some more. Shane instantly readied his shotgun aiming toward the sound until he lowered it along with the others doing the same with their weapons of choice when their resident hunter popped out with the “Dixon whisperer” following behind him.

“Son of a bitch” Daryl scoffs bringing himself over to the deer. “That’s my deer…look at it. All gnawed on by this—“ he quickly kicked the walker out of anger. “Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless proxy bastard!”

“Daryl, come on” Y/N elbowed him when she brought herself close, giving Rick a certain look to watch his words.

“Think we can—-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Dar. It’s not safe” She pushes him carefully away from the tainted meat as Shane couldn’t agree more but when his voice spoke up, both gave him an annoyed look.

Then it was time.

“Merle!” Daryl calls out brushing passed everyone as both Shane and Rick gave Y/N a confused look.

“What?! You think I can instantly get through to the guy? It’s a conversation not a “oh by the way” type shit like you pigs are used to” Y/N scoffs shoving Shane to catch up to Daryl.

“MERLE! GET YOUR UGLY ASS OUT HERE” Daryl shouts once more, surprised slightly that his idiot brother didn’t instantly come. “I got us some squirrel! Gotta help Y/N skin’em for the stew!”

“Daryl, hold up. I need to talk to you” Shane caught up pushing Y/N aside as that lead her to give Lori a glare on the matter given she knows her hatred for the man. Not that she fully expresses it given what she’s walked on in the woods.

Daryl slowed his movement turning around to the pig watching him hesitate before getting to it.

“There’s been an incident in Atlanta…about Merle”

The tension grew in the space making the archer give his only close friend there a blank expression that she wasn’t giving him any answer from hers.

“He dead?”

“We’re not sure” And that caused the emotions to rise.

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl rose his voice watching the unfamiliar man bring himself over.

“No easy way to say this so I’ll just say it—-“

“Who are you?”

“Rick Grimes—-“

“Rick Grimes” Daryl mocks watching Y/N get closer to the situation. “You’ve got something you want to tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all” Okay… “So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there” Rick states watching Daryl’s rage grow on his face as he takes a step back scoffing slightly with a hint of a chuckle.

“Hold on, let me process this—-“ Daryl laughs with the venom in his tone of voice. “You saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and YOU LEFT HIM THERE?!”

The silent “yeah” that came out of Rick made Y/N wince ahead of time for what was about to happen next. Even if Daryl didn’t land a punch on either ex-cops. It wasn’t until Shane started to get Daryl into a chokehold that she brought herself over clawing at him to let go.

“Nah he’s gotta calm down before I—-“ And without another thought, Y/N punched Shane square in the jaw to let go of Daryl. She quickly caught his knife under her foot to swipe it away from him trying to get a shot on the new comer. “You crazy son of a bitch!” He barked at her as Y/N quickly stood in front of Daryl blocking him from either of the two.

“Chokeholds illegal asshole” Y/N barked back getting up in his face to have him stand back and away from Dixon. “Seriously. You fucking morons”

“You clearly didn’t prepare—-“

“Oh and you fucking did?” Y/N scoffs at Rick bringing herself to Daryl. “You need to let me fucking tell you next time so this wouldn’t happen. Can’t have them being fucking entitled dicks to the only motherfucker that understands me! Jesus.”

The tension only grew within the group as Daryl couldn’t calm the pounding in his chest when she said such.

“He listens. Rick’s gonna go and get him” Lori was quick to add crossing her arms as she wasn’t exactly happy about the situation. “He’ll listen to about anybody but his wife.”

Daryl waited for the group to disperse before bringing himself over to Y/N, taking her by the arm and dragging her slightly to his tent.

“You’re hurting me—-“ Y/N frowns as Daryl lets go quickly giving her a stern look before taking her hand into his to check the bruising from punching Shane. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay—-Sure” Daryl scoffs. “Yea ain’t coming”

“Seriously? How the fuck—-“

“YOU JUST AINT” He snaps a bit too close to her face resulting in a flinch coming from her as Y/N puffed up. “I don’t trust that Grimes guy and I ain’t letting yea near him after the fucking stunt he pulled with Merle”

“I can handle myself, Daryl.”

“Yeah. No shit. But you don’t have’ta” Daryl frowns feeling her presence grow closer to his person as he towered her slightly. “You didn’t have to stand up for me”

“Little too late for that. I just…wanted yea to know what happened from someone who gives a damn.” Y/N took a step back keeping her attention on him as the look in his expression seemed to want more and that drew the pounding in her chest to get louder. “Well find Merle, and whether you like it or not. I’m coming with”

I can’t lose you. Daryl frowns followed by a nod deciding not to argue further with the woman.

But nothing went their way since returning back to Atlanta, even when returning back to the quarry empty handed…

After taking out the herd that swept through the quarry camp, Daryl didn’t hesitate to shove T-Dog out of the way of getting to Y/N. She strayed from the group when returning to take out a few walkers by Carol and her daughter, he didn’t see her until the dust settled and wasn’t about to lose his mind all over again.

“You bit?!”

“No! Are you?” Y/N went to check his person as Daryl tugged her aside from everyone else back to their secluded corner. “Daryl please just answer—-“ she was instantly cut off by his lips smashing into hers, making her drop her axe to bring her hands onto either side of his face. In her mind the timing could’ve been better but neither of them was going to interrupt the moment. “Dar—-“ she breathed when their lips parted a moment.

“Ain’t bit.” He quickly responds with while returning his lips to hers as he drops his crossbow to his side bringing his hands to her hips gripping them.

Y/N tugged back a bit receiving a concerned look from Daryl until she brought her hands to his belt and he got the idea. He helped her get the belt off that led her to work at the buttons while he slipped her shirt off quickly bringing his hands back to her hips tugging her jeans down steadying her to finish removing them. Daryl brought his lips to hers once more before moving to her cheek down to her neck and then her collarbone working his way down while helping her descend along with him.

“Can’t—-“ He exhaled suddenly making Y/N stop her actions until he pressed his forehead against hers. “Can’t lose yea” he sighs feeling her arms snake around his neck while he positioned himself in between her legs towering her on the dirt.

“I’m right here, Dixon” She returned her lips quickly to his as he feverishly kissed her while bringing his hands below the belt to remove her panties along with pushing his pants and boxers further for his cock to spring out.

While Y/N found purchase on the back of his shirt, Daryl started to push his length in inch by inch listening to her gasps as she dug her nails into the fabric bringing her legs around his lower back. He didn’t move right away and waited for her to adjust once he was fully sheathed.

“Y/N—-“

“Please” Her voice shook with anticipation wanting him to move but there was more to it as she brushes her face against his feeling his lips graze her features. “Please tell me it ain’t just me”

“It ain’t just you, sunshine” He exhales, starting to move thrusting inside of her warmth listening to her quiet sounds wishing he could drive them out but didn’t want anyone to interrupt them.

As he picked up the pace, Daryl felt her tighten around him drawing a low growl to escape his lips feeling her bring themselves to his shoulder and bite down when she felt the cord begin to snap.

“Let go for me, sunshine” Daryl begged bringing his lips back onto hers listening to her hum while bucking her hips against his as he moans into her mouth at the feeling of her unraveling. “Fuck—“ he pulls out quickly before he could climax inside of her.

The archer carefully lays on top of her feeling her death grip on his shirt weaken and flatten her hands against his torso. Slowly bringing one of her hands to run through his hair as they both panted softly remaining in the other’s embrace.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“I can’t lose yea” Daryl frowns feeling her tighten around him for reassurance.

“You’re stuck with me, Daryl” She laughs softly feeling him shift to rise above her to look at her as she couldn’t help the littlest head tilt wondering more of what’s going on in that mind of his. “What is it?”

“Guess this uh…explains a lot of what I’ve been feelin’ lately” He laughs slightly with her joining.

“Truly, and uhm. I hope this…isn’t the only time and—“

“You’re mine, sunshine. We’re something”

“We’re something” Y/N smiles catching a glimpse of his smile before he started to clean themselves up.

It took them long enough.

[officialstrawhat]

The Hate We Love To Make

Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Strawhat!Reader

Summary: You and Zoro hate each other but feelings start to change when the captain of the Barto pirates points out what a great couple you two make.

Word Count: 1.3K

Note: Not Edited!

Masterlist

The grand Colosseum of Dressrosa buzzed with the roars of the crowd. Fighters from all across the grand line had gathered, their minds filled with ambition. Among them stood Bartolomeo, nearly vibrating with excitement. He had just met his hero, Monkey D. Luffy, the future king of the pirates. But now, his attention was completely captivated by the scene unfolding before him. He couldn’t believe it! You and Roronoa Zoro were there standing right there!

Since Bartolomeo’s obsession with the Straw Hats began, he’d held the utmost respect and admiration for each crew member. But your relationship with Zoro held a special place in his heart. He’d heard tales of your synchronized battles, of how you two took down foes with perfect timing, always watching each other’s backs. Now, he watched as the two of you stood so close to each other, sharing what looked like an intimate conversation. 

Oh, how he wished he could hear every word you two were saying to one another…

OoOoOo

“IDIOT!” you hiss as Zoro walks away from you. “You’re going the wrong way!”

Kin’emon, dressed in his disguise, stood nearby with an exasperated look. In his short time knowing you he’d grown accustomed to the daily verbal sparring matches between you two.

Zoro spun around, eye narrowed. Your eyes locked with his, a storm brewing between you. “How would you know that? You’ve never been here either!”

“Because I’m not a moron!” You jabbed a finger in his direction, inching closer. It was infuriating how much Zoro seemed to get under your skin. 

Ever since you joined the crew, Zoro had an uncanny knack for getting in your way. You tried not to let it bother you but every time you were about to defeat an opponent, Zoro would swoop in and take them down first. It drove you insane. So you started doing the same to him, knowing it drove him mad with similar fury. Since then, you’d made it a habit to pick on him with Sanji, drink his alcohol, and “accidentally” wake him up from naps.

“If you’re so concerned about which way we’re going, then leave.” He pointed in the opposite direction with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Go that way.”

Kin’emon’s voice cut through the tension. “Please, there’s no need to argue—”

But neither of you heard him as you stepped forward. Your fists clenched as heat surged through your veins.  Your face was now very close to his,  “I hate you. I hope you get lost and don’t come back.”

Zoro’s lip curled, his head tilting in a mocking grin. “Big words coming from a meek woman!”

“Meek?” you repeated, eyes blazing. “You son of a b—”

A loud, high-pitched squeal erupted nearby. “Oh. My. God. It’s Mister Roronoa Zoro and Miss Y/N!” Bartolomeo’s eyes were wide with admiration, his hands clutched to his chest as if his heart might burst.

Your scowl turned to panic. “Um—no, no. I think you have us confused,” you blurted out, shifting awkwardly as Zoro gave you a look.

“Yeah, we’re just regular citizens of Dressrosa,” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bartolomeo was undeterred, bouncing with excitement. “May I just say you two are so cute together! The power couple of the Pirate Era!”

The world seemed to pause as you and Zoro exchanged glances, the fierce tension shifting to something strange and unspoken. You watched his eyes soften, only for a moment before hardening again. 

“Oh- No, we’re not a couple,” you protested.

“But you two are my OTP!” Bartolomeo exclaimed, looking devastated. 

“Listen, pal, I don’t know what that means, but she hates me,” Zoro huffed, gesturing toward you.”

“But… you defend each other in battle! Finish off each other’s foes!” Bartolomeo exclaimed. “And according to the Straw Hat fan club newsletter, it says and I quote: Zoro and Y/N’s secret love is a thing of beauty in this rough worl—”

“Yeah, hate to break it to you,” you interrupted, “but we have not, nor will we ever, be a thing.”

Bartolomeo’s face fell, and he broke out into exaggerated tears. “Oh, this is a tragedy! How could I be so wrong!”

Zoro exhaled, breaking eye contact. “Come on. We don’t have time for this.”

A small smile crept onto your lips as you followed him, muttering, “You’re still going the wrong way.”

OoOoOo

Kin’emon directed the two of you to a narrow alley, muttering something about searching for his friend and promising to return soon. As the sounds of the bustling street faded, silence settled between you and Zoro, thick with an awkward tension neither of you knew how to break. You found yourself overthinking the fanatics' odd assumption—why would he (and others apparently) think that you and the green-haired swordsman made a good match? You stole a glance at him. Sure, you didn’t want to admit it, but the scarred man was ruggedly handsome. But he had such an infuriating personality. With his brooding silences, those ridiculous earrings, and his rippling muscles—wait, what!?

The silence dragged on until, finally, Zoro broke it, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Tch, don’t listen to that weird guy. He’s got no clue what he’s saying.”

You let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah, seriously. I mean, can you imagine? You and me?”

Zoro smirked, his sharp gaze flicking over to you. “Yeah, right. Total disaster.”

“One of epic proportions,” you agreed, crossing your arms and leaning back against the wall. You turned your head, pretending to be absorbed by the junk lying around, “The world couldn’t handle it.”

A glint of something unguarded flickered in Zoro’s eyes as he stepped closer, his presence shifting from casual to something more intense. “And yet,” he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble, “you’re still here. You haven’t walked away.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze. “Maybe I just don’t trust you not to get yourself into trouble the second I turn my back.”

He huffed a short laugh, taking another step that brought him close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. “You think I need you to babysit me?”

“Need? No.” Your voice dropped, matching his tone. “But I know for a fact if it wasn’t for me you’d be neck-deep in trouble twice as often.”

A grin curled at the edge of his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips and then back to your eyes, lingering for just a second too long. “Guess I’d better keep you close then, huh?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, the atmosphere between you shifting, the sharp tension morphing into something far more dangerous. The unspoken heat you’d tried so hard to ignore suddenly flared, like a fuse catching fire. For a moment, neither of you moved, as if testing how far this would go. But then, something snapped—years of friction, half-buried glances, and barely-concealed bickering finally erupted. He surged forward, and before you could second-guess it, your lips crashed into his.

The kiss was intense, more battle than embrace, a raw clash of defiance and need. Your hands found his broad shoulders, fingers digging into them as his calloused hands cupped the back of your neck, then tangling in your hair. Everything else faded: the noise of the marketplace, the distant shouts of vendors, even the thought of Kin’emon returning. For this moment, it was just the two of you, like fire meeting spilled oil—volatile, explosive, and inevitable.

When you broke apart, both of you were panting, your breaths mingling in the space between you. Zoro’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkened with something that made your pulse race. “You still hate me?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl.

“With a passion,” you growled, trying to steady your breathing.

“Good.” He chuckled, his hand sliding down to grip your ass possessively. With a rough shove, he pinned you harder against the wall, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Your retort was lost as his lips found yours again, the world outside that narrow alley slipping into oblivion.

[tired-biscuit]

werewolf!Kiba finding out you have knotted dildos 👀

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: monsterfucking, scent kink, toys. he’s mean in this one, sorry.

oh my god, him being your ex-boyfriend who you can’t help but hook up with again — or should you say hook up with for ‘one last time’ because, you know, old habits die hard or whatever.

so you’re making out on your bed, every kiss urgent and angry, lips mashing against teeth. your bodies grind against each other, and his broad back is hunched from how he’s nosing his way down the side of your neck; inhaling your scent and feeling your pulse drum on the the tips of his sharp canines that are slowly growing larger, transforming…

and since he can smell what you want, since he’s already got you nice and naked below him, your scent practically screaming fuck me, fuck me, fuck me at him, before you can notice, or much less stop him, he’s pulling away from your neck with a hot lick at your skin and reaching over the edge of the bed to open the drawer that he remembers you usually keep the bottle of lube in.

you obviously need it if you plan on taking his knot again just for ol’ time’s sake — he phrases it that way, not you — but what he finds in there instead is far more peculiar.

it’s dark in the room, however kiba is a predatory type of monster so his eyes still work like a charm even whilst being burdened by shadows. his outstanding eyesight allows him to see the shape, as well as the sheer size of the object that’s sitting right beside the bottle of lube he’d meant to grab and that’s caught his attention now. even more importantly, he’s able to notice the way it expands and bulges right at the base.

almost like a-

“i thought you said that you weren’t gonna miss me the last time we spoke,” he says, every word involuntarily growly and deep from the way he’s fighting back his true nature. but also because your last fight had been one of the worst ones yet. just thinking about it makes him agitated.

your body tenses as realization of what he’d just discovered hits, washing over you like an icy cold shower. you’re still panting, your chest heaving heavily as you try to catch your breath, but now it’s like every inhale hurts a little.

“i didn’t use it,” you mumble, swallowing thickly.

“is that so?”

“yeah, so don’t even bother-”

as if on cue, you watch in horror as he reaches into the drawer and picks up the toy. he weighs it in his hand with a derisive-sounding snort, tracing the intricate veins that run along the scarily massive length before he brings it up to his nose.

ignoring the dumb, wide-eyed stare of disbelief that you give him the second you hear him sniff, kiba proceeds to take a deep inhale.

overall, the toy smells clean. like it’s been washed with the intimate soap of which he can’t remember the brand of, but knows for a fact that you use sometimes. however, there’s also something else lingering on the toy… something faded and weak, from the way it’s been mostly scrubbed off. the slightest, tiniest remnants of your scent cling to the silicone.

the very same scent you’re exuding right now.

arousal.

your ex-boyfriend smirks after he catches you in your lie, pride swelling in his chest. in that very same moment, the headlights of a passing car that’s driving down the street beam through your bedroom window, making his teeth gleam for a second.

his grin is arrogant, wolfish. perfectly fitting for a man — monster — like him. enough to send an excited shiver down your spine, even if that exact arrogance had been one of the reasons why you had decided to break up with him in the first place.

“tsk, tsk, sweetheart.” he clicks his tongue against his teeth while he drops the toy to tap the side of his nose. “lying ain’t nice, y’know? you could’ve just told me that normal cock can’t hit the spot for ya anymore... instead you’re over here trying to fuck regular-ass humans, playing with your silly toys after they leave you unsatisfied, even though i could be giving you the real thing every single night.”

“what makes you think i’d even want ‘the real thing’?” you snip, drawing your brows together and glaring up at him. “what if… what if i’m perfectly satisfied with what i have now? what if it’s better?”

you know you’re in no position to be asking such questions; at least not whilst squirming naked underneath him and with the inside of your mouth still tasting like his tongue, but trying to stand up for yourself feels better than letting him drag you down like this. even if it causes for heat of hypocrisy to slowly creep up your cheeks and neck.

“well, i dunno,” he murmurs, leering down your naked body with bright yellow eyes that seem to possess such a twisted delight in mocking you, mocking you, mocking you.

you’ve let him in, haven’t you?

before you can respond, he picks up the toy again, dragging it down the center of your belly, making you flinch when he reaches the point below your belly button. you try to reach for it but his reflexes are inhumanly quick, so he has no trouble with restraining you with a single hand.

“how ‘bout…” he pauses, grinning once again at the way you can’t help but whimper in frustration when the tip of the dildo makes contact with your sticky, throbbing entrance. the audibly wet sound the action produces makes you want to reach up and smash his teeth in — restrained or not.

especially when he says, “how ‘bout i take turns stuffing your cunt with this lil’ friend of yours, and then when we’re finished, you can tell me all about how much better it is at it than i am, yeah?”

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader , Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.03

“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You wanted to leave with him, but realistically, it wasn’t plausible. “And what happens once we arrive at Dragonstone? Your mother and Prince Daemon just accept me with open arms?”

Jacaerys looks down at his feet. He knew they wouldn’t trust you, nor would they likely wish for you to be in their home. “No, they wouldn’t at first,” he gulps down. “But we could make them see you played no part in the plan of usurping my mother's throne.”

“I didn’t even know my father had died until servants were sent to help me get dressed for Aegon’s coronation. How can I prove that?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever road I take, I’ll end up in the same situation.” Feeling uncomfortable, you unconsciously pick at the skin surrounding your finger nail until it bleeds. “If I return home without Stark’s backing Aegon, I will need to face the wrath of being a failure and disappointment to my family. If I go with you to Dragonstone, and I bend my knee to Rhaenyra I’m leaving my sister and her children with the vipers.”

Suddenly your hands are pried apart. “Stop hurting yourself.”

The authority in Jacaerys tone takes you by surprise. Like most dragons, he had a fiery temper, but this was different. It was as if he was putting all his built-up rage aside to protect you. Meekly, you say, “habit.”

Jacaerys inspects your fingertips, frowning as he takes in the older cuts along with the newer ones. He turns your left hand over and runs his thumb over your palm. “I remember playing outside in the gardens when you fell and cut your hand. I’m surprised it didn’t scar.”

“I remember…” Despite your eyes becoming glossy, a chuckle escapes your lips. “My mother somehow blamed you for my falling, and you hid in your quarters for days.”

“I hid in my quarters because Ser Harwin saw me attempt to kiss your hand; I thought my mother and father would be mad when he told them.”

You smile; this was the first time you heard his version; all you remember clearly was your mother yelling in the privacy of her apartments that the ‘eldest bastard’ was to blame. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”

“Once I explained that I wanted to comfort you, she went to visit King Viserys and proposed our betrothal.” He lets go of your hands and moves his own up to gently cup your face.

“Things could have been so different if my grandsire hadn’t gotten into my mother's head. Do you think we would have been happy?”

“We still could be.”

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Wh-what do you mean?” Jacaerys couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought he did. “What do you mean we still could be?”

“Marry me, here in Winterfell.”

“You have more courage than any knight I know for even suggesting such a thing.”

A smile curls on his lips. “It’s not a jest. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember; if you say no, I will respect that. But if you agree, for the rest of my life, I will spend every day loving you and keeping you safe. Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.”

His eyes follow your movement as you bring his fingers to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss on them. “My sweet prince, we cannot. Aegon told me, If I betray him, then it’s your life he will take.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

—

Since Northern wedding vows were shared in front of a weirwood tree in the presence of the old god that they believed in, you wanted to be careful not to offend them with your Old Valyrian custom, so Jacaerys purposed you did the ceremony yourselves, outside, surrounded by nothing but the moonlight and your dragons flying above.

You cut each other's lips with a blade made of dragonglass. Jacaerys cuts his hand and rubs a mark on each of your foreheads to signify the continuation of your bloodline. You pledge to each other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao.”

“My sweet Jacaerys, I feel the same way.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and saying everything you wish becomes difficult. Jace leans down, pressing his cold lips against your own. An electric spark you’ve never felt passes through you; it was strong enough to make the snow nipping at your skin momentarily disappear. You wanted this; you wanted him. Jacaerys finally being yours felt surreal—a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

He pulls back slightly and mumbles against your lips, “We should go back inside. I don’t want my bride to catch a cold.”

—

Nervously, you walk towards the bed covered in layers of fur and find yourself almost digging at your nails again, but when you feel a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, the tension you're holding eases slightly, but the butterflies in your stomach aren’t completely gone.

“We don’t need to do anything,” Jacaerys says quietly. “We are married now; there is no rush.”

You did want to be intimate with Jace, but now that you were standing here, you felt unworthy of him. Bruises from Aegon holding you tightly still lingers on your skin, and it made you feel disgusting.

“I do, but... I’m afraid of what comes next,” you admit. “The repercussion of—”

He cuts you off with a kiss and says, “Whatever happens next, I’ll protect you.”

For once you hold your tongue, not wanting to loudly question how impossible that would be, You sigh, “I wish I could turn all the thoughts in my brain off, even for a short time, so I could revel in my husband's warmth.”

“I could help with that.”

Curious, you lock eyes with him. “What do you mean?”

“I could make you feel good without having sex, but only if you wish it.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan was, but you trusted Jace enough to follow through with his words. Taking your hand, he guides you to lay back on the bed. He kisses down your neck. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I promise.”

Jacaerys kisses down your clothed body until he reaches your thighs. He pushes your skirts up to your waist, then slowly pulls your small cloth down. You await the stinging stretch of Jace pushing his cock into you at any second, but instead you feel his hot breath on your core. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste the sweetest thing the gods ever made.”

“Do you mean—oh fuck!”

Jace spreads your folds open with his fingers, then dips his tongue inside of you.

“Gods, that feels good!”

One of your trusted ladies in waiting once told you that a gold cloak had ‘eaten her cunny’ and shared how good it felt. Ever since you had been curious about the act, this was far better than anything you could have imagined. Jace hooks his arms around your thighs, holding you in place while turning his attention to your clit and flicking over it with his tongue.

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps, and you reach the first climax a man has ever given you.

Jace wipes his glistening lips and chin with his sleeve before moving up the bed and laying beside you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then gently caresses the soft flesh of your thigh. “We don’t need to go any further.“

“I want you, Jace; I want this.”

Hearing those words fall from your lips, he quickly lowers his breeches until his hard cock springs free. Jace rolls over, lines himself up with you, and slowly begins to push inside you. His thrusts are gentle as his touch is soft, making you feel cared for, almost safe. Jace peppers your neck in kisses while bringing his thumb to your clit and starts to rub it, taking great pleasure in how tightly you squeeze him. “Gods,” he moans. “You’re so perfect, my love; I think you were made for me.”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Jace notices and immediately stops his movements. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, keep going, please, please!”

Slowly he starts to thrust into you again; he seems unsure until you wrap your legs around his waist, which encourages him to go faster again. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak for the second time, and Jacaerys isn’t far behind.

—

Your fingers glide over Jacaerys bare back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The both of you were sticky with sweat, but you’d stopped caring hours ago.

While being so caught up in making love, Jacaerys hadn’t noticed the bruises on your body until he collapsed, panting and gasping beside you. If it wasn’t for exhaustion overtaking him, he would still be expressing his fury.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his voice laced with sleep.

“How the sun is rising.”

Looking out the window, you can see the orange and pink hues of the sky, and the snowfall is becoming heavier. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill your lungs.

Whatever happens next, you must remember that you’re the blood of the dragon, and you must be strong.

I’ve always loved you — I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites - Part 4

Work started normal. You got in early and did yourself up in the locker room. You don’t wear makeup except for work. It helped that no one could really recognize you without your beauty camouflage. With your heels on and boobs hiked to the sky, you stepped onto the floor.

You saw a few regulars as you made your way around the room. You checked in first with the manager for the night, Todd.

“Hey, I’ve got a dance lined up for you.”

The forty something balding man looked up from the order sheet for the alcohol. Checking out your outfit, his gaze lingered on the scalloped edge of your bra.

“K? What room?” You shift, crossing your arms over the tops of the cups.

Todd looks up at you, startled.

“Uh, room seven I think is where I put him. He asked for you by name.”

Not unusual, you had a few regulars.

“Okay, that is not a problem. Is he someone I know?”

“That’s the thing, he didn’t use your dancer name. He used your legal name.”

You shared a look with Todd, for all his creeper tendencies he did his best to keep stalkers from getting at any of the girls.

“I’ll see what’s going on but maybe swing by in about five to check on me?”

“Yep. You got it.”

Todd waited for you to leave first; man never missed an opportunity to stare at an ass. You ignore the phantom hands sliding over you. Following an instinct that had yet to fail you, you grab your phone from your locker. Shoving it deep down one side of your bra, you enter room seven. You pull the door shut out of habit.

On the black couch across from the door sits the big motherfucker who had escorted Johnny out of the club last night. He sits knees spread wide, hands reaching nearly both sides of the couch. His hard skull mask covers most of his face, and dark makeup covers any skin not covered by the fabric.

You stare at each other, waiting for the other to blink.

He wins.

Pissed, you stride across the room, lifting your shoe and placing it against his chest.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t get you kicked out of here and banned for life?” You sneer down at him.

“I pay well.”

“I said good reason. What’s your name?”

His head shifts, taking in every inch of flesh from your toes to the top of your teased hair. Slow as dusk shifting into night he placed his hands on your ankle, your foot still pressed to his chest. With great skill he tucks the small leather strap into the buckle of your shoe, while wearing gloves.

“You can call me Ghost.” He glances up at you, the heat in his gaze pricking somewhere low in your body.

“Mmm.” You pull out your phone and set your foot on the ground.

Pulling up a contact you know will be awake at this hour, you initiate the call.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Detective! Sorry for the late call, but I have been meaning to get back to you and I finally have a second.” You pitch your voice high, chipper.

Ghost pulls out his wallet and drops two bills on the couch after showing you the denominations.

Detective Johnson responds in your ear, “Hey! You know this isn’t too late for me, even when I am not on the clock I am still up late.”

“I understand these late nights do something funny to your sleep schedules,” you laugh.

Ghost pulls out two more bills, same high number. You raise a brow at him.

“I was actually calling to reschedule dinner with you and the missus. You free next Wednesday by chance? We could hit up that new ramen restaurant?”

“Wednesday…wed-nes-day…Hold on I’m checking her calendar. Looks like we are both free. Six PM, okay?”

“Perfect. Thanks, give my love to your wife. I will see you Wednesday.” You end the call with a true smile on your face.

When your eyes fall back to the man on the couch your smile falls into the sultry work mask you keep for the darkness you work in. You hold out a hand, the other tucking your phone back away in your bra. Ghost doesn’t hesitate but moves with deliberate slowness. He places four hundred dollars into your palm, gloves rasping against your skin anywhere they made contact.

“Dances are only ten minutes,” You tuck the money into the other cup. “That is how long I will give you to plead your case for my sorry excuse for a brother.”

You turn around and begin your dance.

“Not here for your brother love,” his Manchester accent a sharp relief to the accents that drift though a port town like this one.

“What could you want with me then?”

“How about a job?”

You let out a laugh, “I don’t think you would be a great dancer, but we might need a bouncer.”

He pulls on the end a few hairs, not hard, just enough to tilt your head back a hint.

“No, I have a job for you.”

You reach back and twist your hair around one hand, pulling it over one shoulder. You know how to lay boundaries without disturbing the men getting a dance.

“What is the job?”

“Classified unless you agree.”

You hummed, low in your throat.

“Pay?”

“Name your price.”

You speak without thinking.

“30,000.” Double what you needed to get out.

“Yours once the job is complete. Wired to any account of your choice and not traceable or taxable.”

“What’s the timeline?”

Ghost paused at this question. You couldn’t decide if he needed to think about the answer or if you had truly distracted him with your last move.

“Three months.” His voice didn’t show any hint of stress.

“Done. Send me the paperwork to sign. I imagine you know where I live already.”

No response. You look back and find Ghost’s gaze glued to the gusset of your thong.

“And that is ten minutes.” You straighten slowly, your ass about his chest in your heels.

His lingering eyes leave a heat pattern on your bones as he works his way up your back.

“Don’t come back here. If you show up again, I will deny you service no matter how much cash you pull out of your pockets.” You whip your head forward, hair flying out behind you.

You leave the room, door open. Todd hadn’t knocked when he should have, something must have happened on the main floor. You nearly catch a fist to the nose from the full-on brawl happening around the main stage.

Part 3 | Part 5

Masterlist

[angelicpoison12]

he comes with knives ⌖⋆｡°✩

he's sooo whipped for you. but he's scared he'll hurt you.

word count: 1.4K

tags: hookup, porn w/ feelings, p in v, fondling, steamy makeout, the suit stays ON during sex !!, creampie, against the wall, afab!reader, gn!reader, MFA, pansexual Deadpool (canon)

NSFW, 18+ ⍟

THERE ARE NO DEADPOOL 3: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS!

some would call him dumb for this. maybe even idiotic (even though they both meant the same thing), but hey, you were cute! could you blame him? 

if you’re wondering what the external dialogue is talking about, it's about the situation that the infamous Deadpool is in right now. yes, you had Wade Wilson, the Merc with a mouth, fucking you like it was his last hour on Earth. he was a magnet for holes. if there was a hole, there was a goal-you get it, right? 

what’s odd about this little arrangement that you both have, is that he doesn’t want to share. he dislikes knowing that you’re not officially his if that makes sense. he just aches to have you by his side every night. but that’s dumb. he hasn’t loved anyone since, well, Vanessa.  

Vanessa. even hearing her name, saying it, or hearing a voice that’s familiar to it makes him visibly regret everything he did to her. he doesn’t want to hurt you like that. so, it's safe to keep your little rendezvous to a minimum, even if that means trying to hide the dirty little curse of love that you’d caused him to feel again. 

he had his mask lifted just enough for your lips to press to his. you decided to take him right on top of the Empire State Building. i mean, go big or go home, right? besides, Blind Al had a sneaky link as of a week ago, and you both didn’t really wanna fuck around with that. 

“fuck, Wade,”  you moaned, your head pressed against the wall, letting his lips press to your neck. you felt his gloved hands caress your chest, then squeeze your hips, teeth tugging on the skin of your delicate neck.  “you’re fucking perfect.”  Deadpool nearly growled. he sounded like he was holding himself back, the fear of hurting you in the back of his muddled mind. he was going to take you and take as much as he could get, like a starved animal left for dead. that’s kind of what Deadpool was, the more he thought about you. your love kind of picked him out of the gutter like a stray cat.  

you squeaked when Deadpool cut through your shirt, exposing your smooth chest.  “relax. i wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, baby.”  he cooed, lovingly pecking your cheek, making you feel a small bit of scar tissue against the corner of your mouth.  you gasped when his knife cut through your shorts, just enough to get to the goods. you pouted and punched his shoulder.  "fucker... those were my favorite, y’know.”  you spoke with a sense of despair. but the sadness quickly evaporated from your voice when Deadpool shoved his hand into your shorts, feeling your arousal. he pressed your lips together again, tongues messy, drool running down your chins as his thumb and forefinger felt you up and down. 

“you’re warm... warm and wet. leaking. for me,”  Deadpool whispered into your lips, being oddly gentle. he was usually rough and taking what he wanted. tonight, he wanted to spare it. To savor you. to feel you come apart slowly, as if... he’d never see you again.  

fuck. he really didn’t wanna think like that right now, but it kind of clouded his mind. Deadpool had a terrible habit of letting thoughts come at the worst times.  “Wade?”  your voice made him perk up, white silhouettes of the mask where his eyes laid soft. you swore you could see them growing glossy.  “hey, hey, what’s wrong?”  you asked, tenderly cupping his mask. he flinched a little, making you put your hands down to his chest.  “we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Wade.”  you began, but he shook his head, managing to say,  “no, it’s... no, fuck. it’s not that. it’s not that at all, i promise, baby.”  "then what’s wrong? you zoned out big time.” 

Deadpool took a deep breath.   “i’m sorry. really, i am. i haven’t been honest with you,”  when he saw how panicked you looked, he was quick to clarify.  “i’m not fucking anyone else! don’t worry baby, your pretty little body clings to me way too well for me to give it up, i promise.”  he said with a wink, making you giggle and relax a little. Deadpool swallowed, growing serious once more, his hands on your bare pectorals.  “the truth is... i don’t want to hurt you. you’re too fucking good for me, and-” 

you cut him off with a searing hot kiss. 

as you pulled away from the kiss, you whispered to him,  “Wade, honey... i couldn’t give two shits about that right now. i just want you and i want you here with me in the now, okay? just... please, i love you, okay? nobody else. i’m yours.” 

when he heard you say ‘i’m yours’, it was enough to make him groan, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you swore you could feel him blushing through the mask, and the heat of his cheeks made your heart flutter.   “okay. okay, in the moment, gotcha. so... think ineed to prep you, or-?”  you laughed at the suddenness of his bold exterior, but nodded, nonetheless.  “don’t worry. i'm wet.”  you said, putting his fingers in your underwear just to attest to that, making Deadpool bite his lower lip to suppress a primal groan. 

“fuck... you’re so fucking wet. hold on, lemme,”  he began, starting to undo the brown belt of his suit. you pressed your back against the wall, letting Deadpool hoist a leg over his shoulder, pressing you further into the cold concrete.  “you good, babe?”  he asked, making you nod. he pecked your lips, and you mewled when his cockhead rubbed up and down your sopping cunt.  “c’monnnn, Wadeeee..”  you whined, squirming in a feverish manner. he smirked at you, pulling his mask back down fully. hey, the suit stayed on during sex. neither of you complained, especially since he had a zipper for easy access to the goodies.  

“hey, hey, give me a minute babe, yeah? i’m trying to do some bonding with your sweet little pussy.”  Deadpool said, shamelessly grinding into you, purposely missing your hole.  when you arched your back, he slid inside of you, making you both let out loud moans. Deadpool didn’t have the energy to be mad at you; he had been waiting for this for far too long. 

“fuck, still tight. just as good as i remember,”  he chuckled, starting to grind his hips back and forth, allowing his cock to drag against the silky walls of your fluttering kitty. your arms wrapped around his neck, and he grabbed your other leg, pinning it beside your head. you didn’t even know your body had the ability to be so flexible, and you also knew it was going to fucking kill you for this position. but it felt way too good, too good to stop for sure. 

you felt your climax impending, but Deadpool was being torturous. he’d go fast, then slow, pick up the pace, and do it all over again. he was fully aware of what he was doing. he wanted you nearly melting, your brain a puddle of mush before he’d let you release.  “aw, my poor baby. you’re just aching. so swollen,”  he moaned in your ear, a hand going down, his thumb tenderly rolling over your clitoris. you let out an involuntary sob, your entire body quivering. you were so fucking close. you knew that Deadpool had you right where he wanted you. he leaned in close, headbutting your neck, whispering in your ear,  “go ahead and cum for me, baby. go on, let go. i've got you.” 

that was all you needed. you were cumming, your walls spasming and squeezing, sucking his length in like starved quicksand. Deadpool groaned, his hips stuttering, thrusts growing desperate.  “oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck-your pussy’s too fucking good, holy fuck!”  Deadpool almost hollered. his hands were holding your legs, his breath able to be felt against your nose through the fibers of his mask. you felt his cock twitch, then the soft seeping sensation of wetness inside of you, making you squirm weakly. 

Deadpool continued to hold you, going slow as he put your legs down. he laid flat on his back, still inside of you as you laid on top of him, legs on opposite sides of his hips. he couldn’t stop nuzzling you, whispering soft words that were tender and full of love. 

he wanted to give it a second chance. even if it meant making a few mistakes with you, too.  

⌖⋆｡°✩

my sweet little snowflake buddies!

@6esiree, @frxstwalker

[seijorhi]

Etched in Red: Ruby (Part One)

Event Masterlist

Hinata Shoyo x female reader

Part Two

w.c 1.3k

tw: stalking, yandere themes, implied dub/non-con.

“I… have to go,” Kenma sighs. “Bye, Shoyo.” The last part’s tacked on like an afterthought, his attention already drawn over his shoulder, fixed on something Hinata can’t see. The source, no doubt, of those two loud thumps. 

Hinata doesn’t bother hiding his smile, signing off with a wave. It’s not the first time their video chats have ended this way, he’d wager it won’t be the last. Come to think of it, he had mentioned something about a stray a few weeks back. Maybe…

He shakes himself free of the thought, glancing down at the time on his open laptop and– shit. He’s gonna be late. 

It takes all of fifteen minutes for him to throw on some half decent clothes and bike across town. These days, with the sponsorships and all, he doesn’t have to work so hard, riding over town delivering food all night. 

He doesn’t have to, but he chooses to. 

On Friday nights, at least. Usually around six-thirty. He waits on the sidewalk, flicking through the app, declining, declining, declining, until he spots an all too familiar order. His face lights up. 

Accept. 

Being that he’s already parked out front of the restaurant, it means he’s got a little time to kill, but that’s cool, too. The staff know him by name, share knowing, vaguely amused looks when he pokes a head in to see where everything’s at. 

“Won’t be long, Shoyo,” one of them tells him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he walks on by. They never actually ask which order he’s there to pick up.

And it’s habit, more than anything else, that has him checking said order when it’s called. Normally, a quick glance is all it needs, but… his smile fades, head tilting a little. There’s too much food. Almost twice the usual. 

The girl at the counter shrugs before he can even ask. “That’s the order we got. Girl’s probably got a friend coming for dinner.” Her eyebrows waggle, telling Hinata exactly what kind of friend she’s thinking of. “Either that or she’s real hungry.”

A wave of unpleasantness creeps under his skin, his insides twisting. He thanks her all the same, quick to bundle the food in the carry case and settle on his bike. By now, he knows the route like the back of his hand, he’s ridden it so often. He could do it blindfolded, in the dark–

… Were you having friends over? 

You don’t usually, not on Fridays. Sometimes you come back to the apartment tipsy and late, but you haven’t ever brought anyone back with you – aside from that one time, with the tall, loud girl who wouldn’t stop trying to drag you into impromptu karaoke. He’s never seen anyone else though. You’re like him, aren’t you? A creature of habit, routine. Six-thirty every Friday, the same order. 

Is it the tall girl again? Another of your girlfriends? 

Someone… else?

That uncomfortable feeling returns. Would it make a difference if it really was just a friend?

Before he knows it, Hinata’s out the front of your apartment, heart thudding away like his chest’s full of lead. Normally, you’re already there on the steps, waiting for him, because he knows you watch the tracking app like a hawk, because that’s what you do. That’s the routine – your routine; six-thirty, Friday night, you and him, on these steps. It’s his.

Hinata doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he goes to grab your food.

“Shoyo?”

He whirls, expression bright. There you are. Lovely and beautiful in the golden light of dusk, smiling back at him like nothing’s wrong. The sight alone should ease the static beneath his skin, loosen the knots in his stomach, but it doesn’t. His smile feels too tight, his cheeks aching with it. 

Who are you having dinner with?

He doesn’t realise he’s actually spoken the words aloud until you blink at him, offering a somewhat sheepish reply. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?” How could he not? “A friend from back home. She’s staying with me for a few days, and since I apparently never shut up about this place, and it is a Friday night tradition…” you trail off, shrugging easily. “Here we are.”

Right. A friend from back home. Robotically his arm jerks forward, holding out the food for you to take. 

“Thanks for this,” you continue, blissfully unaware of the absolute, chaotic mess currently wreaking havoc inside of him. “It’s kinda weird, right, how you’re always the one picking up the order? They should really just cut out the middleman and hire you on retainer.” You’re joking, of course, the giggle tells him that much, and Hinata forces himself to chuckle along with you. 

“Same time next week, then?”

Do you hear the same faint tinge of desperation he does? He really, really hopes not. 

“You betcha,” you shoot back with a wink that seizes his heart with an invisible fist, already turning to make your way back inside to the warmth of your apartment. To the friend from back home who’s no doubt waiting for you.

From up above, a shadow moves across the window he knows is yours.

Not a date, Hinata reminds himself, just some nameless, faceless girl she used to know. One who’ll be gone soon enough. Back home, away from you. 

Honestly, it should be a relief. 

So why does it feel like his blood’s about to boil? Like the floor just opened up beneath him and everything’s falling apart? Standing on the sidewalk, hands flexed at his sides, his breath comes out in short, choppy pants. 

On wooden legs, he stumbles back to his bike. Kicks a leg over the frame and settles himself down, hands wrapped around the handlebars in a white knuckled grip. And still, he doesn’t move.

He can’t even think over the deafening roar in his head. 

This – Fridays – they’re his. Yours, yes, but his, too. And this girl, she’s… she’s intruding. She doesn’t belong. She shouldn’t be there.

And if she’s up there, what’s to stop others from stealing as well? 

Across the street, there’s a sudden banging noise, and Hinata turns just in time to see a scrawny looking tabby dart through the mouth of an alleyway. A stray.

For a while, longer than he’d probably like to admit, Hinata stares after it, his brain ticking over.

With one last, lingering glance up at your window, he huffs out a sigh and pushes off.

—

One thing Hinata learned during his stint as a delivery driver is that if you buzz the wrong apartment and someone’s home, more often than not they’ll let you in anyway. 

It’s only Wednesday. He’d been good, waited the four agonising nights while your friend took up space in your apartment. But she left today, and Hinata knows you, knows that you’re probably exhausted from having to put up with her, that you don’t have any plans tonight other than curling up on your couch and watching TV. 

You won’t mind him showing up instead, even if he maybe – probably – should’ve waited ‘til Friday. 

The food he’s got isn’t from your favourite restaurant, either, it’s from his, and he’s pretty confident you’re gonna love it. He brought flowers, too. Just in case. 

Excitement thrums through his veins, jittery and bright, and, unable to help himself, he bounces on his toes.

You answer the door wearing pyjama shorts and an worn, faded tee and Hinata beams because you’ve never looked prettier, even when that cute little crinkle scrunches between your eyebrows, “Shoyo, what–”

Right now, he’s supposed to say something charming, or funny, maybe. Something to smooth out the confused expression he doesn’t wanna call a frown. He should be a gentleman – he got the flowers and the food, he even went out and bought the fancy, expensive cologne Heitor recommended because Nice goes nuts for it. 

There was a plan. Or, sort of a plan.

It didn’t involve him dropping the flowers and the food on the floor, lurching forward like a man possessed to haul you into a scorching, life-altering kiss, pushing you back into your apartment and kicking the door shut behind him, but holy shit–

It absolutely should’ve.

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part one

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: you finally get the chance to one up peter and officially have the honour of meeting the friendly neighbourhood spiderman that everyone has been talking about.

word count: 2.3k

contents: reader is intended to be fem! (she's briefly described as such in this chapter), possible emetophobia warning?, tiny blood warning, language, a little banter and a little fluff, possible OOC peter? idk..., reader is anxious and clumbsy #selfprojecting, i'm not american which means i may get things wrong, please bare with me!!.

note: this is my first fic ever but let me cook!! thank u charlie for editing.

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

Your lip sits between your teeth, occupying them with the task of removing dead skin, it was a poor habit, something you’d done to settle nerves from a young age. You’re sure you’ll draw blood any second now as Miss Ritter works her way around the classroom, handing test results to uninterested students. A large part of you envies the way their eyes merely skim the front page of the test paper, you could only pray to care that little.

Your teeth continue their assault on your lip as you feel the usual pair of eyes boring into the side of your head. You truly do almost entertain the idea of meeting his gaze but you can’t bring yourself to give him the satisfaction. 

“You’re gonna have an aneurysm over there if you don’t chill out”

You’re not entirely sure what you did to deserve a seat next to Peter Parker, but every day for the past month you’d apologised to all possible gods for whatever sin it was that you had committed.

You avoid his gaze and he lets out a humoured scoff. 

Your foot taps against the floor as Miss Ritter now approaches your desk. She stands in front of you sorting through the test papers antagonising slowly, and for a second you’re sure she's teasing. 

“Well done” She offers a sweet smile, although it goes unnoticed as you scramble to pick up the paper from your desk.

98% 

Your eyes meet Peters,

“What did you get,” you ask, your lips leave your teeth for the first time that period and you try to suppress the cocky grin growing on your face but you’re not sure it’s possible. You watch his smirk widen and for a moment you feel yours falter.

“96%” 

A laugh of relief bubbles from your chest,

“Thank you god,” you tease and your laughter dies down.

You’re met with an eye roll. 

"What happened to the bravado, huh?" You give him a light poke in the arm, teasingly.

"Ouch... okay, I get it," he grumbles, his brows furrow slightly,  though a hint of a smile remains on his lips.

“We have a bio test on Monday don’t get so cocky” 

You shrug dismissively as you flip through your test results.

______________________________________________________________

You’re just about done with everything.

Work had practically doubled after your coworker had puked all over the break room, leaving you to scrub her throw-up from the divots in the tiled floor, and cover the two hours she had left of her shift. 

You swore you could still smell it.

You shift from foot to foot, feeling suffocated in the subway. It's packed to the brim with football fans, dressed in the colours of their respective teams and once again you’re apologising to any and all gods out there for whatever you did to deserve this. 

You’re so very close to getting your elbows involved as you push through the crowds, making it off the subway several stops early, to simply give yourself a moment of peace.

Making it to a familiar back street you take a moment to check your watch, the long hand sits just after six and the shorter one points between ten and eleven.

Silently, you curse your stupid, sickly coworker and your own poor decision-making. Your feet throb against the leather of your work shoes and you almost begin to miss the subway's scent of beer breath and football stand food. 

Your teeth catch your lip again, this time they draw blood and you wince at the sudden stinging. 

“Shit” you groan in a hushed whisper, you curse the habit as you bring your hand to your lip, examining the damage. A drop of red colours your fingertip as you touch it to the nick and pull it away so you can see. 

You roll your eyes at your luck and rub the blood from your fingers before continuing with your walk, wishing you’d simply seen the subway through and stayed on until a stop closer to home. 

“You’re out awfully late miss” 

You just about jump out of your skin at the voice. It's eerily mechanical as though it’s meant to be disguised, under the circumstances, it sends chills up your spine. 

“Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me” you hold your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm the beating of your heart. You turn and your eyes meet big ovals of tinted glass, adorning a red mask. It hits you that they belong to those of Spiderman and suddenly the voice makes all the sense. 

“Don’t… don’t creep up on people like that, especially not,” you pause to find the words, “unsuspecting women… alone at night” you let out awkwardly, your furrowed brows ease up as you take in a deep breath. 

He lets out a small laugh from behind the mask, head tilting to the side as he manages to lock eyes with you even though you can't quite meet his gaze.

“Sorry, sorry” he lifts his hands defensively, “just making sure you’re okay”. There's a grin evident in his voice.

“No, I’m…” you let out a breath. “I’m so sorry, it’s been a rough day”, You offer an awkward smile and silently curse yourself for being an asshole to some guy that spends his life-saving people. 

“Don’t stress,” he brushes it off. 

‘Your…”, he raises his hand to where his lips would sit behind his mask, “... lip is bleeding.”

“Shit… yeah” you mumble, bringing your own hand to your lips. You lick your fingertip and wipe both the fresh and dried blood from the cut. You suddenly wonder how silly you may have looked with a trickle of blood gathering on the rim of your lip.

“I bite ‘em… my lips, when I’m anxious” you clarify, offering another awkward smile. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers with a shrug, taking a step in the direction you were walking when he had first approached. 

“My lip biting?” You question furrowing your brows and following his footsteps. 

“Your day” he humours you. 

“Right,” you let out a sheepish laugh and you feel your cheeks flush. “You do that?” you question, skipping a step to keep up. 

“Do what?” he asks, his brows furrow behind the mask. 

“Give out free therapy.” Your eyes lock on the ground as the two of you walk side by side. 

He chuckles, “not often… I make exceptions.”

“I’ll walk you home, you just talk” he offers. 

You accept the offer, quite gladly. It felt strange, though nice, talking to someone as a friend without the, ‘what do they think of me’ barrier. For all you knew you’d never see Spiderman again. 

You hadn’t particularly been one for friends. Not that you hadn’t wanted them, it was rather that no one seemed to fill that hole. You’d had friends throughout middle school, some in the early stages of high school but each time you’d simply fall out of friendship, and that was that. 

It was nice to talk rather than listen.

“Then my coworker, Kaylie, she threw up all over the break room,” you rambled,

Spiderman gags at the thought, ‘Not you too’ you murmur softly, though he catches what you say and lets out a chuckle.  

Your lips press into a smile, satisfied with his laughter you continue your story.

 “My asshole of a boss made me clean it,” you emphasise, “then made me stay back and cover her shift, now it's… what” You lift the sleeve of your jacket checking the time, “10:39 pm and Spiderman, of all people, is walking me home”. You send him a small smile with a shrug. 

“Well firstly your boss sounds like a jackass” he adds, almost as if stating a fact, “but at least you got to meet Spiderman', he nudges you faintly, pulling another soft giggle from your lips. You agree with a hum and a nod, once again making eye contact with the floor.

“Oh, I got a 98 on this English test,” you add looking up at him, “so, y’know… hasn’t all been bad”. 

“Wow look at you,” his grin peaks through his voice.

‘“What can I say?” you giggle with a sheepish shrug. 

“Peter, this kid in my class,” you clarify, “has been one upping me all semester, and I have finally,” you emphasise, “gotten a better grade than him”.

‘We don’t like this Peter?” he asks, studying your face as you answer. 

You smile at his use of ‘we’. 

“He’s…” your words die on your tongue as you think for just a moment, “kind of an asshole,” you nod, “but sweet…enough” you shrug with a sweet grin and meet Spiderman’s ‘eyes’. 

“He’s funny I’ll give him that” 

Unbeknownst to you, Spiderman’s lips curl into a grin. 

“As long as he’s being nice,” he adds. 

“I don’t know if I’d say nice” you giggle. 

______________________________________________________________

“Well Spidey, this is almost me” you beam, pointing to the apartment building across the street with your head, your hands are kept inside the pockets of your jacket where the cold New York air can’t reach them. 

“Thanks for, you know… walking me home, letting me talk, I don’t really do that too often” you smile up at him, meeting his hidden eyes.

“What, you don't get to talk a lot? I doubt that” he laughs, watching as you roll your eyes. 

A soft ‘shut up,’ rolls off your tongue with a smile. Your cheeks are flushed against the crisp of the night and you feel your grin grow. 

‘I better…’ your words die on your tongue as you point to the apartment block. 

He lets out a hum of approval with a short, knowing nod. 

You take a step or two backwards, sending him a wave and a sweet smile, though forgetting to look both ways as you cross the seemingly empty road. 

Spiderman's voice rings out as you turn, faced with a fast-paced car. The owner honks its horn, sending you an angry glare as it drives past you. You quickly place your extended foot back onto the safety of the curb and send Spidey a sheepish smile. 

“You need me to carry you to bed and tuck you in?” He jokes with a shake of his head. 

“I’m good thank you,” heat rushes to your cheeks and the tips of your ears, reddening them further as you turn to look both ways. 

“That’s a good start” his voice rings from the other side of the street, watching you cross the road more safely this time around. 

You wave him off with an eye roll, not turning to look at the vigilante as you trot to your apartment complex. 

______________________________________________________________

“Is that you love?” Your mother rings out from the couch.

The apartment is dimly lit, the glow from the tv lights up your mothers features as you approach her. She sits in her pyjamas, a glass of red wine in her hand, which is expected on a friday night. ‘Dirty Dancing’ plays loudly on the TV, you’ve seen the film a million times over because it’s her favourite. 

You slide your backpack off of your shoulder, lean it carefully against the couch, and collapse down next to her. 

“Hi love,” your mothers lips press against your forehead, placing a soft kiss. 

You hum, closing your eyes. 

You feel her pull away, she replaces her lips with a hand and lets out a worried hum. 

“You’re warm” her brows furrow and you feel your blush spread further. 

You’re grateful she can’t see your flushed cheeks in the darkness of the apartment. 

“Ran home,” you simply smile with a nod, “gonna go to bed.” 

She nods, giving you a tight hug and wishing you sweet dreams. 

You let your eyes close as your head lolls against the cool of your bedroom door, taking in the stillness of your room. You begin to untie your work shoes, leaving your eyes shut as you place them neatly by the doorway. 

You let out a yawn, rub your eyes and stand up from the carpeted floor. Taking a seat on your neatly made bed, your hands find the buttons of your work blouse and slowly unbutton them one by one. 

Your mind drifts and a smile curls onto your face as you think of the sweet, masked man that had walked you home. 

You wonder about his features, the colour of his hair and skin, if his face is freckles or if he has little moles that litter his body. You wonder how old he is, if he has lived his life, seen things and loved, or if he’s young, possibly even your age. If he puts the rest of his life on the line each night he puts on the suit. You frown at the possibility. 

Your teeth once again catch your lip, tongue grazing the dried metallic blood, you wince at the taste you’ve grown familiar to. Scolding yourself softly, you make a small mental note to quit the habit before putting on pyjamas and slipping into fresh sheets. 

A soft smile adorns your face as you stare up at the ceiling, you realise you had forgotten to tell your mother about your English test, how you’d gotten the highest grade in the class, and you keep in mind to tell her over breakfast. 

Your mind slips back to Spiderman. There's an unfamiliar tug in your chest and you selfishly wish to see him again, despite how busy he may be with truly important things. You think of his gentle nature and the gut feeling, a disgusting mix of guilt and longing, spreads.

Guilt for both wishing something from a man that wasn’t fair, and for allowing yourself this wish. 

You want him to be there the next time you get a higher grade than Parker, which will hopefully be sooner than later, or the next time your coworker lets her lunch out onto the table where you sit and eat, which you pray will never happen again. 

You feels a moment of guilt for your wishful thinking before rolling over to get some sleep. 

[daisyblog]

YN Tomlinson & Harry Styles

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN Tomlinson is Louis's sister and is in a relationship with Harry Styles. Louis discusses a small part of their relationship on a talk show.

Warning: swearing

A/N: I’m thinking of making this into a series. Let me know what you think.

***

“Alright I’m Louis Tomlinson..and I've just been on the Zach Sang show talkin’ ‘bout all sorts..check it out” Louis introduces the show whilst sitting on the brown leather sofa. ---

“We have Louis Tomlinson..It’s nice to see ya” Zach began.

“Hello hello” Louis announced.

“Does it still piss you off when people call you Lewis ‘cause that is not your name?” Zach asked.

“No because people back home..basically right..I mean my name is Louis but I didn’t luv’ it when I wer’ younger..once I was old enough..don’t know why just didn’t really luv’ it so I got known as Lewis, all me friends from home call me Lewis and then I get there on me..on me..first day at The X Factor wiv’ Simon and you know wha’ I mean all the judges and he called me Louis and like you know wha’ I mean there's 3,000 people there..I’m absolutely brickin’ me’self..I’m not about to say..excuse me a minute you’ve got me name wrong..even though it is me actual name..you know..so then it stuck..so I’m kinda both..kinda both..there’s a little story about my name” Louis explained whilst laughing about the pronunciation of his name.

The host laughed at Louis's response and continued to ask “Why were you not a Louis fan growing up..did you feel like Lewis was more serious..did it give you a..”. Before Zach could finish, Louis interrupted “Do you know what it was..when we wer’ younger..me sister YN would constantly say me name..like constantly Louis this and Louis tha’..and it was fookin’ annoying” both hosts laughed at Louis’ re-enactment of his sister “So one day..I told her me name was Lewis..and it just stuck to be honest wiv you”.

“So basically YN is to blame for why you didn’t like your name growing up” Zach continued to laugh.

“Yeah..pretty much” Louis laughed along with the host.

“Talking about your sister YN..” Louis began laughing and shaking his head, whilst sitting up straighter “Why are you laughing?” Zack asked.

“I..I just know what’s comin’ mate” Louis stated whilst readjusting the black hat on his head.

“Your sister YN is in a relationship with Harry Styles…right?” Zach confidently asked.

“Here we fookin’ go...ugh yeah she is..he’s a brave lad let me tell you” Louis began, again making the two other men laugh at his words “No..no…I’m only jokin’ but yeah they’re together”.

Zach asked, whilst continuing to laugh “What do you mean brave…brave because she’s your sister or..”.

Louis realised what he said could have been misinterpreted and began to explain “Ohh no..I..I..don’t mean brave because I’m gonna go all big brother on him..but..I..brave 'cause she’s sumit else man” Louis added with a laugh “..like she’s me sister remember so she’s like the female version of me..you know what I’m sayin”.

“Aw..I thought you meant like brave because she’s your sister and..you know the whole don’t go near her type of thing” Zack explained.

“No..no…if anything I should have had a rule for YN to stay away from Harry” Louis joked. “No..in all seriousness..even at the beginning I was..uh I don’t know how to feel about this..ya know..me sister and me bandmate..me best friend”. Zach interrupted “Yeah..it must have been a bit of a shock for you..like what do you even do in that situation?”.

“Do you know what..I didn't handle it too well at that start” Louis laughed.

“What do you mean?” Zack asked, curious as to what Louis meant by his statement. "Well...I found out at the same time as the rest of the world...you know wha' I mean...and I was just so angry because...you know she's me sister..and he's me best mate" Louis explained whilst picking at the skin around his nail, a nervous habit he had. "But..I..I eventually calmed down and..me Grandad had a bit of a chat with me about it all..and I won't go into detail...but he just made me realise that I had to let YN make her choices..and I'm so glad I did 'cause look at them both now" Louis ended with a chuckle. "So..you weren't suspicious or anything...like you didn't know?" the host questioned. "If I'm 'onest..no I didn't have a fookin' clue man" Louis laughed "But..when I think back..I should have seen it" Louis began to explain whilst moving the microphone closer to his mouth "like I remember her comin’ to stay at our flat in London once..and her eyes would literally fookin’ follow the lad…but at the time I just didn't realise…and then after the photo was leaked..she came on tour wiv us when we wer’ in the band…she was like our stylist's assistant type of thing..and..um…wherever Harry was YN was not far away…they’re the same age and liked the same kinda stuff so…yeah”

“What was that like having your sister on tour with you?”.

“Uhh..well she was too busy wiv me best mate” Louis laughed at his own joke “Do you know what…I loved having her there wiv us..It was nice to have that part of home wiv me you know”.

“You’re exposing her secrets Louis” Zach laughed along.

“She’ll fookin’ go crazy on me when I see her” Louis joked “No..If I’m being honest..I’m so grateful that she’s got someone like Harry..we’ve been through some shit times and..I..I’m just so glad that she’s got a lovely lad..that’s all I want is for me family to be ‘appy” Louis smiled at the host, trying to indicate that he wanted to move the conversation on “..and she is ‘appy”.

***

[writingjourney]

one more? | cardinal copia x gn!reader

Inspired by all the kiss prompts. This is for @leezlelatch ♡

content: 750 words, gn!reader, some suggestiveness and spice but nothing explicit, lots of kissing going on here, we get a little frisky

Masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

Lunch breaks are invariably too short. They feel even shorter since you spend them wrapped up in Copia’s cassocked arms, hidden away in an empty corner behind the entrance to the library. Your back is pressed against the cool stone walls, your habit disheveled from his wandering hands, leaving half of your leg exposed to the chill draft haunting this part of the abbey.

The cool air feels heavenly against your heated skin where Copia’s fingertips are trailing up to your hip and back down in a steady dance. It’s oddly tender compared to the way his mouth is so insistent on devouring you. You can only imagine the purple discolorations blooming on your neck right now, the smears of lipstick and bite marks he left in his impatient fervor after he’d pinned you to the wall.

The bells have long since chimed to announce the passing of lunch hour. He should be back in his office and you should be back behind the reception desk. And yet your arms are still tightly slung around his shoulders as his tongue licks into your hungry mouth.

“I have to go back,” he mumbles for the fifth time as he breaks away for air, trying to step back but you don’t let go of his neck. “Amore…”

With your hand in his hair, you press your mouth to his once again, ignoring his complaints. His biretta has long since fallen off his head and you make use of the easy access, dragging your nails over his scalp in the way that he loves so much. He moans loudly and kisses back for a moment, moving his swollen lips against yours almost chastely now. With the kiss distracting you, his gloved fingers wrap around your wrists and he pulls them off of him, pretending to pin you to the wall. With your hands off, he tries to tear himself away once more, but your fingers grasp his pellegrina at the last second. You yank him back, bringing your mouth to his ear as he stumbles into you. “One more kiss? Please?”

“You want your Cardinal to be late?” he whispers, bracing himself against the wall behind you.

“Yes, if it means I get another kiss.”

“I will get in trouble, amore.” He drags his nose along your cheek before nuzzling yours. “Do you have no compassion for me?”

“No.”

He tsks, pulling back slightly when you try to capture his lips again. “So cruel. So cruel to your Cardinal and you claim to love me.”

“I do love you. That’s why I want another one, silly.” You try to pull at his robes again but he won’t budge. “Please please please.”

He whimpers softly. “You know what begging does to me, tesoro.”

“Please. Please, Cardinal, I need one more.”

“One more, then you will let me go?”

“Mhm.”

He leans in, kissing you as softly as he can. You trap his full bottom lip between your teeth for a second and he groans, pressing in harder until the back of your head hits the wall again. He pulls away with a desperate sigh and you whine at the loss of him.

“One more,” you beg, tugging at his robes.

“Amore,” he groans. “You are getting greedy now.”

“Isn’t greed a virtue?”

“I think you are mixing that up, no?”

He gives you another peck before he fully pulls away. You allow it this time, conceding in favor of your own reputation. Someone is going to want something from you any second now and you still have to get presentable.

Copia straightens his rumpled cassock before glancing at your ruined face with a smirk. “We continue this tonight, amore,” he promises. “You will bring the same hunger, yes?”

You nod, smiling like a fool when he winks at you. He almost stumbles over his own feet as he turns back around, still drunk on endorphins and your taste. A few deep breaths and you gather your wits before your eyes get caught by a red blob of color on the floor.

You pick up his biretta and put it on your head. He’s already halfway down the hall when you call out to him. “Looks like you forgot something, Cardinal.”

He spins around, the skirt of his cassock whirling around his legs. “Don’t even say it, amore.”

“You’re lucky,” you say with a grin. “Payment is very cheap today.”

 Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 24

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

Here’s what happens when Remus apparates into the hotel apartment:

Ziggy, lounging on the sofa, startles awake and bounds up to greet him. Meows loudly. Purrs and sits in front of Remus’ feet, gives him this look, like where is the other one? You always come in as a pair. I like the other one better.

Like an implosion, violently and all at once, the windows in the apartment blow open: a change in pressure, a vacuum of sealed air released.

With a pop, Sirius appears next to the cat, sudden as a bolt of lightning in a clear summer sky.

“Oh good. You are here.” He sounds annoyed and worked up and a bit disappointed, too.

“I was…”

“Leaving?” Sirius interjects. “Yes, I gathered. Want to tell me why?”

Because I’m a coward. Because I won’t tell you. Don’t want to see how you’ll look at me once you know.

“Remembered there’s something I have to do, it’s urgent. And I’ve forgotten.”

Sirius picks up Ziggy in his arms and flings himself onto the sofa, boots up on the coffee table. The cat purrs up a storm as Sirius scratches its little head behind the ears.

“And you’ve remembered this crucial, mysterious thing now. Just as we made our first real breakthrough. In the work that is important enough to you that you’ve threatened to send me back to prison for not cooperating.”

There is nothing for Remus to say. He turns, goes into his bedroom, pulls his suitcase out from underneath the bed. Sirius let’s the cat down and follows him through the threshold.

“Come on, Remus. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. You’re a really shit liar, did you know? You have more tells than I care to point out.”

Half-way through folding a linen shirt, Remus looks up at Sirius. He’s all casual, nonchalant, leaning against the doorframe but it’s so obvious he feels anything but.

Nobody can ever tell when Remus is lying. He’s had practice. He’s had reasons.

Then, just like that: Sirius.

“Why are you doing this research?”

“I told you why.”

“No, Remus, you didn’t. I told you I thought it was neat, and you agreed. You never ventured your own opinion.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant now.”

Sirius pushes off the doorframe, the movement so fluid and graceful it momentarily breaks through Remus’ state of panic. Sirius walks across the room like he’s stalking him and for once – fuck, Remus is always the beast, the monster, the thing to be kept locked up. Now he’s the prey.

It’s a couple steps to the bed. Sirius takes the shirt from Remus’ hands, puts it down, away from the suitcase. That, too, is a symbol. All of the rings he’s wearing are gold.

“Just tell me the truth.”

Remus is so tired of always having to hide, of having to lie, of having to be mild-mannered and cautious. But it’s an old habit. Old habits die last. “Why do you think you deserve it?” he tries to deflect.

“Because I’ve done nothing to make you believe otherwise,” Sirius is unnervingly earnest, something in his face beseeching, and Remus hates it, hates it. Hates that whatever decision he makes; this will be lost to him.

It’s always the same choice for him: stay dormant and choose the pain already present or be brave and choose the pain of change.

“I am one,” he says, and it’s like touching silver, like plunging broken skin into wolfsbane water.

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

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(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[thatoneluckybee]

Tips for Writing Characters with Trichotillomania

- Someone with trichotillomania (hair-pulling disorder!)

I’m really glad that people are starting to realize that BFRBs actually exist! And with that, I’m happy that this means it’s not JUST me headcanoning characters to have BFRBS or CREATING characters with BFRBs. HOWEVER. With this, it is important that these disorders are represented well. I have trichotillomania myself, so here’s a list of things that I look for in characters and when making my own, and tips for accurately portraying a BFRB!

This is focusing on trichotillomania as I have it. I might make some on other BFRBs but I’ll have to do a lot of research and talk to people or read accounts of people WITH the specific BFRB. (I pull my hair and bite my nails, so I cannot about other BFRBs I don’t have off the top of my head.)

What IS a BFRB?

BFRB stands for “body-focused repetitive behavior.” BFRBs are a group of disorders listed in the DSM-5 under “Obsessive-Compulsive and RELATED Disorders.” BFRBs are NOT OCD. They are closely related, but are DIFFERENT things! A BFRB is defined by bfrb.org as a “repetitive self-grooming behavior…that can lead to physical damage to the body and have been met with multiple attempts to stop or decrease the behavior” and WebMD as “intense urges…that can cause damage.” (A BFRB is NOT the same as self-harm!!!!) In short, a BFRB is a behavior or habit that hurts you and is nearly impossible to stop or control. The easiest way I’ve found to describe it is like pressure. Next time you have an itch, try not to scratch it. It’s difficult! It feels like a pressure building up. Now, imagine that “itch” is really the INTENSE urge to pull out your hair, pick at your skin, bite at your lips, and the like. THAT is a BFRB.

What about Trichotillomania (or Trich)?

There are two main types of hair-pulling: FOCUSED and AUTOMATIC. Oftentimes, people’s trich does not neatly fit into one category. One trichster can engage in both (like me!) or it could depend on the location of the hair on your body. Focused means you are AWARE that you are pulling when you pull. AUTOMATIC means you are NOT AWARE that you are pulling.

Secondly, trichotillomania DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE. People can pull from ANYWHERE and EVERYWHERE. Oftentimes people who mention trichotillomania only consider pulling from your scalp. But we, as human beings, are mammals. There is hair everywhere. Other common places include eyebrows, eyelashes, the pubic region, underarms, arms, and legs. But if there is hair at ALL, trichotillomania can cause you to pull it. Some people have specific locations they pull from, and not EVERYONE pulls from EVERYWHERE! (For example, my scalp was never an issue until this past year, and I have had this BFRB for several years. It began with my lashes, then progressed to my legs and brows. I pretty much have trich for everywhere now. Yay.)

ONTO THE TIPS

For many, trich can be a self-soothing behavior. If a character has trichotillomania, they may gravitate towards their hair when they are startled or under stress, even if they are not pulling. An example of this could be a character running their fingers through their hair when anxious, or running their fingers over their eyebrows when frustrated.

A BFRB is not something to be ashamed of. However, there is a LOT of stigma around them. Many trichsters WILL attempt to hide their BFRB from people, especially strangers. Even the most kind-hearted, honest cinnamon roll may lie to a loved one about why their hair is thinning or why their arms are sore. Some common ways of this are wearing hats or styling one’s hair a certain way, wearing pants and long sleeves, or avoid hairdressers and doctors.

IT HURTS. There is often PHYSICAL PAIN that accompanies trichotillomania! What inspired me to write this post was quite literally me being grumpy because I was having to hold a towel to my arm because I dug too deep trying to get an ingrown hair and it bled more than expected. Pulling, especially if it’s from sensitive areas of your body like your nose, pubic region, fingers, feet, eyelashes, etc. where there are many nerves, can HURT. There will likely be red, bumpy skin. There may be blood. There may be scars.

There is going to be hair everywhere and yes it is annoying and no it’s not stopping anytime soon. Vacuums will clog. You will get hair stuck to the soles of your feet when you take off your socks. It’s gonna be everywhere.

Some people will chew on or eat the hair. This is known as trichophagia. I do not know much about trichophagia as I do not have it myself. However, I DO know that people with this can experience issues like stomachaches, indigestion, and the like. That’s okay. That’s normal.

You cannot love someone’s trichotillomania away. Please, please, please do not do this. You can help someone if they want it, you can love them, you can try, BUT THIS IS A DISORDER. It is NOT a choice. It is not something a character needs to “try more” with. I see a lot of posts under the trichotillomania tag here on Tumblr that are excerpts of fics. 99% of the time, it’s Person A forcibly stopping Person B from pulling and begging them to stop “for them.” I am not saying there is something inherently malicious about these! But someone cannot just stop “for you.” I’m sorry. It’s still a disorder. Please avoid the “stop for me!” trope if possible, or at the very least avoid this being the “cure-all” for a character’s BFRB.

These disorders are so widely misunderstood and underrepresented. There is a lot of misinformation. Please do not shy away from creating characters with a BFRB, in fact I highly encourage it! But pleasepleaseplease do some research beforehand and listen to people with these disorders. Good luck!

[islandtarochips]

OC Interview: Tiala “Shark” Toa

Talofa everyone! I just wanted to post something up here that I suddenly saw one of @kaitaiga 's post about her OC being interviewed! Which you will see it right here! And so I thought that I could joined in! By using that form! And also doing in YOUR point of view (as the interviewer)! So I hope you guys liked it!

November 2024

You have never thought of interviewing someone in Hawaii. Where the Marine Base would be at. And yet, here you are. You started to feel excited and a bit nervous as you followed a man into the training field. “Thank you so much for bringing me here, sir! I’m a bit nervous to meet her.”

The brown skin man gave you a smile as he nodded. “Of course! I’m just surprised that any interviewer was actually interested in our Task Force.”

“Yes! You guys are a BIG inspiration around the pacific! I heard so much about you guys from the state!” You started to beam up when you explained to the Captain that one of her relatives knows the Warriors Task Force. “And I’m very grateful that YOU agreed with this, Captain!”

The man, who had introduced himself as Kanoa, smiled a bit as he glanced at you over his shoulder. “No problem. I’m just surprised that your relatives are an old buddy of mine when I first joined the Marines.”

Soon the two of you had made it to the big field, seeing so many different groups of soldiers doing different training. Kanoa had looked around before grabbing a chair for you.

“Take a seat here. I’ll go and get her. And there’s no need to be nervous. She may look mean but she won’t bite. Promise.” Kanoa said as he winked at you.

You nodded as you sat down and watched him walk over to that one group. You saw him talking to the woman who seems like she’s busy training the recruits. You started to feel a bit anxious of how she looks at the man. You even question yourself if you’re bothering her.

You could feel your cold sweat dripping on the side of your head, even your palms are getting sweaty too. Soon you saw the woman nodded at Kanoa before making her way towards you. You sat up straight and quickly grabbed your notepad and your pen. But you accidentally dropped your pen from being nervous. “Shit.”

As you were about to pick it up, you saw another hand had picked it up instead. Soon you looked up to see the same woman in front of you. You slowly gulped down as you sat up. “H-Hi! Um…”

You had tried to speak but you still felt nervous all of a sudden. You don’t know why you felt like that from her.

“You’re the one who’s interviewing me?” The woman asked while giving that emotional look as she handed you your pen.

You cleared your throat and slowly took it before sitting up straight. “Y-Yes. I hope I wasn’t interrupting, ma’am.”

“You did but you gave me a great excuse to get away from those mofos. Can’t even get it right when I TOLD them to do something. O le mea lena e tupu pe a e paie.”

You tilted your head a bit when hearing her speak in a different language.

She noticed your head tilting as she sighed. “Sorry. Out of habit when someone pisses me off. But anyway, are we going to do the interview or what?”

You got your pen and notepad ready as you nodded. “Of course! We’ll start off with the basics!”

Basis

Name

“Tiala Toa. You may call me Shark if you want. First Sergeant of the Marine Corps and the Second in Command of the Warriors Task Force. And also the daughter of the retired Colonel of the Army. And even the sister of the Vice Admiral of the Navy, the Colonel of the Marines and even the Captain of the Marines as well. Who is also the leader of the Warriors Task Force. What? Too much? Too fast? ……well, you could’ve written it faster then.”

Are you single?

“I’m single.”

Birthplace?

“Born and raised in American Samoa. I really do enjoy staying on the island but sometimes I feel like I want to go away from there. AWAY from the dramas. Because almost every day it HAS to have family dramas in it.” She gently rubbed the side of her neck as she was trying to clear her throat in an awkward way. “Nothing bad really. It’s just…It’s just how we Samoans handled things between families.”

Hair Colour?

Tiala was in silence for a few seconds before gently touching her braided hair. And pulled it over her shoulder for her to take a look at it. “……it’s blonde.” She looked back at you. “It’s definitely blonde.”

You know she was being sarcastic so you just wrote down black as her hair color.

Eye Colour?

She pointed at her eyes. “Brown. Most of my family kept saying that I have my mom’s eyes and the others said I have my dad’s eyes.” She sighed as she shook her head in a disappointing way. “Both of them have BROWN. EYES. What do they even MEAN?” She facepalm gently as she groaned.

Birthday?

“November 19th. I’m turning 27 in the next few days. Planning to take my leave to go home to…visit someone. Always do this every year. Not a SINGLE year that I’ve missed every time I take my leave on my birthday. Unless, there’s a mission coming up. I have to postpone that but at least they’ll give me an extra month to have my leave after the mission.”

Gender

She’s starting to give that unamused look as she crosses her arms. “That should be easy enough for you to ANSWER that. I’m not gonna say anything.”

Mood?

“Tired. Annoyed. Wanting to strangle someone SO badly. Don’t worry, I won’t do it on you….maybe.”

Are you happy?

“Right now? No. Unless you get me something good to eat. I really do miss eating some Hawaiian Poke or Samoan Oka. THAT I’ve been craving for.” She then sighs before leaning back against the chair as she thinks about something. “But…there are some things that make me happy. And…I really am glad that I’ve met them. And seeing my brother most of the time.”

Are you angry?

“Not really now. But I sure will be once we’re done with this interview. Because right when I go back there. THOSE people will get on my nerves in ONE second.”

Summer/Winter?

“Summer.” She said with no hesitation. “I HATE the winter. It always makes me SNEEZE every 5 seconds! Kefe ia…one time of that mission when my brother, my team and I went to ALASKA to assist the squad team. Everyone kept staring and laughing at me when the cold chill hit through my fucking face. Blast and Squirrel won’t stop wheezing when I sneeze. They said they found it CUTE. I find it REALLY annoying. And I took my sick leave for three weeks. THREE. FUCKING. WEEKS. And it was terrible…”

Morning/Afternoon

Tiala started to think for a moment before looking at the interviewer. “I may not be a morning person to wake up. BUT. When I’m in a good mood for it. Morning is really nice. Just need to get up and see the sun rising up. It was beautiful.”

Eight things about your life

Are you in love?

“......Sorry but I’m not going to answer that. Next one please?”

Who ended your last relationship?

“Ah. It was my Ex-Boyfriend who ended our relationship. Back in high school during our Senior Years. He dumped me during the prom events. But before that he was trying to give me one last chance if I wanted to be with him and…he…did things that I don’t WANT to do. So he told the truth that he’s been cheating on me and broke up with me at that time.” She paused for a moment as she rubbed her neck a bit. Remembering all those words that he had said to her. She took a deep breath before continuing on. “Well, at least he got beat up by my 9-year-old baby brother. Yes. He was 9 but IF you saw him at that time. You will think he was 12-years-old with a bit of a chubby muscle.”

Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

She started to chuckle at that question. “Pele, ever since that break-up in high school. I hardly dated ANY men during that time. So you could imagine how many times that I’ve turned most of those men down. I mean…they ARE nice but I’m just not ready to go on the dating stage yet.”

Are you afraid of commitments?

“......yes…and no. It’s…It depends on who I’m looking for. I may be rough around the edges but in a relationship. I sometimes question myself if I even DESERVE it.” She started to lean back against the chair and crossed her arms. “Heh. That bastard and his words are still stuck in my head. So I don’t know if I ever wanted to get married or not…”

Have you hugged someone within the last week?

“No. Not really but…I would like to hug someone right about now.”

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

“Awkwardly. Yes. About one or two to be honest. One of them was REALLY into me and…it does make me feel guilty when I turned them down. But at least they respected my decision. Don’t know if they respected me as their First Sergeant or as a woman. Don’t know.”

Six Choices

Love or Lust?

“Love. Had enough dealing with people who had lust in their hearts.”

Iced Tea or Lemonade?

“Do like some Iced Tea. With more sweetness in it.”

Cats or Dogs?

“I like both but I’m more of a cat person. Got one cat and one kitten back at home. The cat is named Maliu and the kitten is named Fin. I missed them already…”

A few best friends or many regular friends?

“Maybe a few. Don’t want to have too many friends. You may never know that one of them might stab you behind your back.”

Wild night out or romantic night in?

“Night in. Nothing romantic or fancy. Just want to stay in. Watching movies or cooking something. That would be nice. I would love to have that time of relaxation.”

Day or Night?

“Daytime is nice. Good time to go for a swim at the beach or perhaps hanging out with friends and family. Might as well do some chores before having fun. Now I miss home.”

Four have you Evers

Been caught sneaking out?

“Nope. Because I already witnessed the consequences if I EVER did. You can ask my brother Rangi for that story. For HE is the victim of EXPERIENCING the consequences.”

Fell up/down the stairs?

She was silenced for a bit as she cleared her throat. “I uh…fell or made that TRIP a couple of times when I went up the stairs. I don’t know why my feet are getting clumsy.”

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?

“Wanting some peace and quiet? Yeah. VERY badly. I’m getting tired of hearing these people complaining so much about the training and missions and all that. What do you expect? Getting something out of a silver platter? That’s just being a spoiled bitch that’s what I would say.”

Wanted to disappear?

“......To be honest…after everything that I’ve been through. From a couple of years ago. I wanted to disappear SO bad. Afraid of what those people might see or think of me. And afraid of WHO I’m seeing with. I just can’t handle it. Wanting to get away from this cruel shitty world. But…” Her voice started to sound soft. “Thanks to my family's support. Including my brothers. I…I feel like that they have carried all of my burdens out of me. And I could have never been better.”

Four Preferences

Smile or Eyes?

The woman paused for a bit to think. “Man, that’s a tough one. Mmm. I would go for a smile. Really enjoy seeing some people smile on their faces. It really suits them. Even for the grumpy ones too.”

Shorter or Taller?

“Taller. I can go with the shorter ones too. I don’t care but I’m leaning more towards the taller ones. Easy for me to kick their balls if they ever crossed the line. Hehehe….I’m joking but I might if they DID cross the line.”

Intelligence or Attraction?

“Ok. I may be a smart woman to most people but not THAT smart. Like, I’m not Dr. Einstein smart. I still have my ways of being intelligent but I would rather have someone who won’t confuse me with their smart ass mouth. So attraction WITH a bit of intelligence is all I ask for…mostly towards the attraction.”

Hook-Up or Relationship?

“Relationships. I…I know I said that I’ve been AVOIDING to have one. It’s just…I’m…n-never mind. I’m not gonna explain it. So yeah, relationships.”

Family

Do you and your family get along?

“Oh we have our ups and down but that doesn’t mean we don’t LOVE each other anymore. I love my family. My parents, my older and younger brothers, my aunties and uncles, my nieces, nephews and cousins. Even my grandparents and THEIR siblings. I love ALL of them! Except those TWO people that we all despised but we had to tolerate. Is my Uncle’s, my dad’s older brother, WIFE and spoiled ass DAUGHTER. Those two are SOOOOOOOOOO…UGH! Those two are just a bunch of KEFES. Always bragging and always showing off of their new life in the STATES. Like dude, most of our family are in the states too! You’re nothing special!” She soon takes a deep breath and calms herself down before looking at you. “You’re…not gonna write that down are you?”

Would you say you have a ‘messed up’ life?

“Uh…I would say…yes. Before and after joining the military. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Have you ever run away from home?

“Not really. And even if I DID run away from home. My other family would snitch on me and mama would beat me up for doing that.”

Have you ever gotten kicked out?

“No.”

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“Right now? No. From before? Yes. Who was it? I’m not gonna tell.”

Have you considered all your friends’ good friends?

“Some of them, yeah. We’re all here to do our jobs. And if I see them doing what they were SUPPOSED to do then I’ll consider it as…a good alliance.”

Who is your best friend?

“I used to have TWO though. Their names are Ela Anand and Herman Black. Those two…they’re everything to me the first time I’ve joined the Marines. We always have each other's back….now they’re gone. They’ve died in great honor that I will continue to fight for.”

Who knows everything about you?

“Kanoa…always Kanoa. I mean, my other brothers, yes. But Kanoa is the only one who understands me more. He’s always there for me when I need him the most.”

—-------

You wrote down that last sentence before smiling at the report. “Alright then! That’s about it! Thank you so much for taking your time and answering my questions, First Sergeant!”

Tiala nodded at the interviewer before standing up. “Of course. Glad to be a servant.”

As you stood up, you noticed her clearing her throat as she was trying to get her attention.

“Say…I’ve got a question for you.”

You held your notepad close as you started to feel your heart beating a bit fast from being so nervous. “Y-Yes, ma’am?”

“Why of all people would you interview ME? My brother would be a better option since he has more experience than I have.”

You just blinked for a bit as you shrugged at her response. “I don’t know. I just…feel like that you’re the one that I’ll be interviewing me.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I-I know. It’s just…I have that gut feeling when I saw your photo online about your Task Force and all of a sudden…something or someone had pushed me to see you. So…here we are.”

The First Sergeant just stared at you for a moment before turning her back from you and just walked away. “Thank you. I should be going now. It’s nice doing this interview with you.”

“O-Oh uh…you’re welcome?” You just watched her walked back to her group and smiled to see her yelling at them to get up on their feet. You giggled a bit before seeing Kanoa had just stepped in.

“So, you had fun?” The Captain ask while watching his sister scolding the recruits.

“Yeah. And thank you again, sir. For letting me in here.”

“Of course! Whoever is a friend of that relative of yours, is a friend of mine. Now come on, let me take you to get something to eat.”

“Oh yes please!”

Kanoa chuckled as he took you inside the mess hall.

Tagging List: Opt In/Out

@alypink @ctxinari @pricescigar @toukasbae

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[sequinsmile-x]

Collect Every Dream

In one moment, one micro-expression she wishes she hadn’t caught, everything felt like it was torn from under her.

Emily is pregnant, but her and Aaron's joy is short lived.

-x-

Hi friends!

This one is something I've been thinking about on and off for a little while. It's not what I planned to write when I opened google docs today but here we are.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Ectopic pregnancy, pregnancy loss, abortion

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Something is wrong.” 

Aaron turns to look at his wife, the small distance between the two chairs they were sitting in too big for his liking. He wishes he could wrap his arm around her, pull her into his embrace and ease her fears, but he knows he can’t. That she wouldn’t want him to.

Not until they knew what was going on. 

“Em, you don’t know that,” he says softly, trying his best to calm her nerves, to soothe the fear he felt simmering deep in his belly.

She turns to look at him sharply, her gaze unrelenting as she twists her wedding rings around her finger. A habit that had mercifully replaced picking at her cutilcles otherwise he knew he’d be catching her hand in his just to stop her from tearing her skin open. 

“Aaron,” she says, her voice tight, controlled in a way it usually only was around her mother, “You saw the look on the ultrasound technician's face. If everything is fine you aren’t asked to stay behind after an ultrasound.” 

She was just shy of seven weeks pregnant. They’d only known for a week, the joy she’d felt when the test came back positive was indescribable, two bright lines meaning the same thing as they had all those years ago in a public bathroom in Rome but something entirely different at the same time. She wasn’t 15 anymore and terrified. She was married to the love of her life and the pregnancy was something she wanted, something she’d tried for. Hope and love permeating everything in their home ever since she’d thrown away her birth control pills with little fanfare one more, their agreement that it was finally time echoing around her. 

The scan was early, something her doctor had been keen on doing because of Emily’s age and her medical history. The stress her body had been through because of her injuries one of the things they had to consider throughout. 

She had been excited, pushing away the nerves she’d felt all morning, as she laid down, Aaron’s hand in hers, as the ultrasound technician did the scan. 

In one moment, one micro-expression she wishes she hadn’t caught, everything felt like it was torn from under her. It makes her hate her job, hate what she had always prided herself on because it took her happiness from her. Stole it away when she could have had it for a few more precious seconds. 

The door opens and the doctor walks in, a tight smile on her face as she sits behind her desk. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you here, but I needed to review my team's findings. I won’t keep you hanging, I’m sure you’re worried.” The doctor sighs, sympathy washing over her face confirming Emily’s concerns that something was wrong. She reaches out for Aaron’s hand and holds it tightly, grateful for the way he holds it back just as tightly, her hand sandwiched between both of his, the way he loved her the anchor she needed. “Have you ever heard of ectopic pregnancy?”

Emily heaves in a breath and it catches in her chest, tight and heavy as she fails to exhale properly. She nods in response to her doctor's question, unable to say anything, and Aaron’s grip on her hands gets impossibly tighter. She places her other hand on her stomach, any joy she’d felt in doing the exact same thing just a few minutes ago fading away, slipping through her fingers like sand. 

“We’re lucky that you had an early scan and that we caught it now,” the doctor says, her voice soft and caring, yet every word feels like a lance to Emily’s abdomen, sharp and hot in a way she’s sure she’ll never recover from, more painful than the stake Ian had driven through her had ever been, “It means we’ve caught this before you got any further along and risked permanent damage.” 

She doesn’t hear much else after that. The doctor’s soft apologies, her answers to Aaron’s questions no more than white nose. Instructions she’d heard once before, half a lifetime ago, as she’s presented with a box of pills washing over her. Waves of grief and sorrow getting bigger with every second that passed, her hand in Aaron’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

___

She’s given the option, and she decides to take the medication at home instead of at the doctor's office. The thought of taking it somewhere clinical instead of the comfort of her house awakened part of a memory she thought she’d long since buried. Something she desperately didn’t want to associate with this.

She’d taken the pills as soon as they got home, sitting on the couch she’d thought they’d tell Jack he’d be a big brother on. They’d been home for a couple of hours and she asked Aaron for a little bit of space, desperately needing to get her head around how things had changed so quickly, how she’d gone from excited to devastated so quickly. She knew he hadn’t wanted to leave her side but he did as she asked, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he walked to the home office they shared.

She knows he won’t have done the paperwork he’d muttered he had to do, that he would call work to let them know they were sick, a white lie she knows she’s going to have to remember next time she sees their friends. He would have called Jessica too, his voice strained as he asked her to take Jack for the night, well aware that neither of them had it in them to put on a brave face today. 

She sighs as she tries to get comfortable on the couch, her heating pad against her stomach ever since the mild cramping had started. She knew it would get worse, that the pain would increase over the next day or so, and she didn’t feel the slightest bit ready for it. She wipes tears from her cheeks, a constant stream of them pushing past her lashline in a way she can’t fight. Something that had started in the car on the way home, the journey silent as Aaron kept his hand on her thigh, his support always there to hold her together. 

She sits in silence in the living room, unable to bear the thought of turning on the television even though Aaron had purposely left the remote within her reach. She doesn’t want to associate this, to be pulled right back under by this feeling every time she watched a certain show or commercial. Unwilling to let herself drown in grief whenever she heard the jingle for the local secondhand car salesman. 

She doesn’t know how much time passes as she sits there, staring straight ahead, her gaze looking through their wedding photo hung on the wall. Eventually, she hears his familiar footsteps in the hallway, loud and echoing in the otherwise quiet house. 

“I called work and let them know neither of us will be in for the rest of the week. I said we have the flu,” he says softly, drawing her attention to him standing in front of her from where she’d been staring at the wall, “Depending on what the doctor says on Friday we’ll make the call then on what we do next week.”

She frowns, tilting her head at him curiously, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Friday?”

He puts his hands in his pockets, burying them in there to stop himself from reaching out for her, unsure what she wants from him, never wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

“Your follow-up appointment. You’ll have another scan to see…” he clears his throat so he doesn’t repeat the doctor's words, endlessly grateful that his wife didn’t seem to have taken the clinical nature of how everything was described onboard, “If the medication has worked.” 

“Oh,” she says, nodding before she looks down at her lap, “Yeah,” she offers him a shaky smile, “Thank you for paying attention I…I don’t really remember anything she said.” 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says, “Anything. You know that,” he steps towards her, his eyes lingering on how she’s clutching her heating pad usually reserved for her period to her abdomen, “Do you need any painkillers?” 

“Not yet,” she replies, shaking her head, “Maybe later.” 

The silence they fall back into is loud, all consuming in a way it rarely was in their house. A place full of love and laughter that they’d been looking forward to adding to, a dream that had been taken from them before they’d even really been able to get started. 

“Do you need anything?” 

She looks up at him, his own grief clear but shoved beneath the surface, masked with his love for her, and she reaches out a hand for him, “Come sit with me for a little bit?” 

She doesn’t need to ask him twice, and he’s on the couch within seconds, his arms wrapped around her as he pulls her into his embrace. Somehow fierce yet delicate at the same time, the love they felt for each other turned into one physical action. 

She rests her head against his shoulder, trying to draw in comfort from him and provide comfort at the same time. Everything they’d lost hanging in the air around them. She swallows thickly, hoping in vain that it will dislodge the grief that was stuck in her throat, cloying and viscous in a way she can’t shift. Her lungs burn with it. Her chest so full of everything she can’t say, things she wouldn’t be able to find the words for if she tried, that it feels like she can’t breathe, every breath painful. She wipes at her cheeks furiously and futilely, the tears immediately replaced. 

“I keep thinking…” she starts, drifting off as she presses the heating pad a little firmer into her belly, the pain familiar in a way that made her ache. 

“You keep thinking what, sweetheart?” he asks, his hand still tight around hers, his thumb running back and forth over the back of her hand, desperately trying to comfort her in any way he can. He watches how she hesitates, her chin trembling as she tries to hold back her emotions. Agony in the form of tears constantly slipping down her cheeks, burning tracks into her skin he thinks might be permanent, a type of sorrow that had breached her ironclad defences. “You can tell me anything,” he says, kissing her temple, repeating the action when she leans into it, “You know that.”

She nods and removes her hand from the heating pad to wipe tears away again, forcing herself to feel the sticky trail of them against her skin, the taste of the salt on her lips from the ones that make their way all the down her face, because it was easier than feeling everything else. 

“I keep thinking that maybe I’m being punished,” she says, her voice shaking in a way he’d never heard before. He pulls her a little closer, waiting her out, forcing himself not to interrupt, not to tell her there was nothing she was being punished for, because he knows she needs to get this out. To say it so it was no longer festering inside of her, “If maybe God, or the universe, or whatever is telling me I’m not meant to be a mother.”

He sighs, “Em-”

“I’ve been pregnant twice in my life, Aaron,” she says, looking up at him, an edge of desperation in her eyes that breaks his heart, “Last time I was so young and fucking terrified and I made the choice that was right for me, but this time…I really wanted it. I really wanted this and I let myself start to picture it all. A little girl who looks like me but was reserved like you, or a boy who looked like you but was uncontrollable like me, ” she shakes her head and closes her eyes, “Maybe it’s my fault.” 

He places his hand on the back of her head and pulls her closer, his fingers tangling in her hair, his short nails scratching against her scalp, “You don’t really believe that, Em,” he says softly, no judgement in his voice as he soothes her, “You know you don’t.” 

She chokes on a sob, her forehead against his shoulder, “I know,” she says, pulling back to look at him, leaning into the palm he presses against her cheek, the warmth of his skin overriding everything else, “I know I don’t,” she laughs bitterly, a humourless sound that bursts out of her, short and sharp as it makes her ribs ache, “But Catholic guilt is a hell of a thing,” she smiles shakily, “Even when it’s been decades since you went to church.” 

He keeps his hold on her, his fingers still in her hair, soothing her in the way she always did for him and Jack when they needed it, “If I could change this for you…if I could fix it…”

They both know he doesn’t have to say it, that he would do anything for her if he could, and she nods against him. She pulls back to look at him her lips pressed into a firm line as her dark, shining, eyes stare into his. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says, her lower lip trembling, “I’m so sorry.” 

He rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to force the tears back, to keep himself together until she doesn’t need him to do the same for her.

“I’ll say this as often as you need to hear it, Em, but you have nothing to apologise for,” he says, shifting to kiss her cheek and then her forehead, “Not one thing, okay?” 

She nods, wishing she could believe him, that everything in her wasn’t screaming that this was somehow her fault. That she was being punished, or that this had happened because of what happened with Ian, a twisted sense of irony that he’d taken this from her after she’d taken his son from him. She knows it’s not true, that this was bad luck more than anything, but it felt easier to consider all the ways she could have prevented this, to think of how she could control it, rather than accept this was random. That there was nothing she could have done.

That this could happen again. The mere thought of it enough to make her choke on a sob, the sound escaping her like a hiccup. 

She knew she wanted to have a baby with him. When she had recovered from this, physically and as much as she could emotionally, she knew she’d want to try again. Forever aware that they had time constraints, that the clock was ticking somewhat on them adding to their family. Another thing she wishes she could change, the thoughts she sometimes had about how she wants to go back in time and get with him sooner haunting her during the day instead of how they usually did at night. A phantom that chased her around the house when she couldn’t sleep, always one step behind her as she thought of the life they were building for them and Jack. 

They sit on the couch, hours passing them by as they curl together, switching between silence and quiet conversation as needed. Eventually, he makes her eat something. She isn’t hungry at all, the thought of food making her stomach roll, but she eats it for him. Knowing he needed this, that looking after her was something he could control. 

They go to bed early, both of them emotionally worn out from the day. She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes are swollen red from crying and her skin is paler than usual, making her look every bit as awful as she feels. She blows out a steady breath and her eyes flick over the cabinet beneath the sink, and she freezes as her gaze lingers on a particular drawer. She hesitates before she opens it and her breath catches in her breath as she immediately sees what she knew she’d find. 

A positive pregnancy test, two pink lines staring back at her. A piece of plastic she’d kept in a rare and uncharacteristic show of sentimentalism, unable to throw it away when she found out she was pregnant. She picks it up, ignoring how her hand shakes, and she turns towards the trash can, holding it over it prepared to drop it in, to dispose of something she now felt stupid for keeping in the first place.

She can’t drop it, can’t let go of the one piece of evidence she had that this pregnancy had even happened. Something so small and simple that had made her happy, even if it was just a little while. She shakes her head at herself as she grips it a little tighter and turns back to the cabinet, placing it exactly where she’d picked it up from. She stares at it for a moment longer before she closes the drawer and turns to leave the bathroom. 

Aaron is already in bed, the covers pulled back as he waits for her. She crawls into bed next to him, her back against his chest as he pulls the covers over them before he holds her close, his arm tight around her as he kisses the top of her head. 

“If you need anything in the night please wake me up,” he says quietly, “You know I’d rather help.”

She squeezes his hand, linking their fingers together and bringing them up to her lips. She kisses his knuckles, her lips catching on the cool metal of his wedding ring, “I know,” she says, kissing his knuckles again, “I love you.” 

He kisses her temple, desperately trying to press everything he feels about her into her skin, the words never enough. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

She slowly falls asleep, lulled into it by his embrace and his love as well as the painkillers he’d talked her into taking before they went to bed. She knows it will take a while to feel okay again, that she’ll always be haunted by the what-ifs and what could have beens, her child’s face never quite in focus, something she couldn’t imagine no matter how much she wanted to. She also knows that she’ll be okay, that she has Aaron and Jack and other people who love her.

She’d be okay, even if she wasn’t right now. 

-x-

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[lookclike]

when you're not yet done with the summer

task: the last interaction when: august 2nd, last performance of romeo & juliet

getting undressed in her small room backstage felt different that night. that was the last time she was going to wear that white dress, the last time she would feel the weirdly sweet fake blood sticking to skin as she rubbed it off. getting in and out of costumes was easy when you could return to them at any time, but goodbyes... eliza didn't particularly love those.

the pink peonies (her favourites) resting on the table were a good reminder to not get caught up in emotions now, to get in and out of the backstage area as soon as possible so she could actually see richard. he had been there in the audience, the expression so similar to those many times when he took them to the theatre as kids, a sight that didn't exactly make eliza nervous (she could quote the entire play on her sleep by now) but still felt weird. some of the others had come to see her, of course, but seeing richard in new york always felt a bit uncanny, two words that were separate parts of eliza. new york was chaotic and cruel and dizzying, and woodrow… woodrow was home.

“richard!” she said happily as soon as she saw him waiting outside the theatre, throwing herself at his arms mostly out of habit. richard’s hug was just as warm as she remembered, the same steady arms that used to pick her up as a child. 

“lizzie! you were quite wonderful up there, dear.”

she let herself bask into the compliment for a couple of seconds. eliza had never been one to crave richard’s approval desperately, perhaps because she knew it would always come. still, a part of her still wondered if this — the shakespeare, the theatre, the false sense of independence and accomplishment — hadn’t been born out of what she thought richard would like to see. eliza was good at playing whatever role she needed to, after all.

“don’t you think the blood bath was a bit too much?” she finally let go of the hug, looking up to him with a little humorous smile.

richard simply laughed. “quite a brave directing choice.”

“brave doesn’t always mean good.”

“but it’s almost always better than the opposite.”

lizzie didn’t let her smile falter, though the comment stirred something inside her mind she didn’t quite appreciate. onstead, she opted to grab richard’s arm and to lead him in the general direction of sardi’s. part of her wanted to take him to a mcdonald’s just to see his reaction, but that would have to wait for another night. “c’mon old man, dinner is my treat.”

“i really ought to be heading back…”

“there will still be plenty of time after we eat. please?” and that’s why eliza never really had to battle for richard’s attention like so many of the others. she could pinpoint the moment when his eyes softened and he nodded. it would be easy to just let herself get lost in the joy of the moment, dinner with her pseudo-father, but even then a little voice piped up from inside her head: it’s not you he wants to see and share a meal with. he is saying yes because of a girl who isn’t you. the cool night breeze wasn’t always enough to get eliza out of her head, but they made their way to the bustling restaurant mostly unscathed.

“are you sure you wouldn’t rather be celebrating with your castmates?”

“trust me, there was enough celebrating to be had every other week. besides, i’ve got some good news.” that got richard to smile with a questioning expression. “not telling until i’ve had a preposterous amount of fries.”

eliza did get her french fries, munching happily as the adrenaline of being on stage started to leave her body completely, making her almost melt into the seat. The dinner was filled with conversations that took her straight back to woodrow, literature and theatre and everything in between.

“so, the news?” richard finally said as they started eating dessert (they both had a sweet tooth, after all).

“well… there is a big julius caesar production happening on broadway this november, and i got cast as portia!” she couldn’t quite hide her excitement, but richard’s eyes seemed equally content.

“that used to be your favourite as a kid. you would beg me to read antony’s speech again and again-”

“-because i loved the way it sounded. i remember.” memories had never been an issue to eliza, at least not when it came to woodrow. it felt like a consolation prize in a way. she had no real past, no real family, but the time spent at the house, with richard and with the other wards, would be forever etched into the crevices of her brain. a gift and a curse, something the greeks would love.

when they said goodbye for the night, eliza hugged richard tightly, and he didn’t hesitate in matching the force.

“bye lizzie. call me anytime, okay?”

that night, eliza went home to an empty apartment decorated with books and half empty bottles. she put the peonies in a beautiful crystal jar and then cried herself to sleep like she had done so many times as a little girl. she wished she still had a night light to guide her out of her own head. she wished she could just stop ruminating over things. mostly, she wished she could be the daughter richard actually wanted.