#and the look of pure disappointment in me as a person made me laugh enough to remind myself to write it down

[darkwingsnark]

If there were two ducks on the moon and one of them quacked at the other would that be ducked up or what?

[starlitrays]

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE

starring. pro hero!katsuki bakugo x pro hero!gn!reader

summary. set several months into the fake relationship, bakugo doesn't really like you and you tolerate him, but you both know how to appease an audience | 1.7k words

content. fake dating (obvi), second person pov, bakugo having conflicting feelings, use of 'y/n' and 'l/n' for last name, fluff if you squint, x is still twitter bc i said so, reader has a pet cat, this feels choppy to me

a/n. first time writing in awhile AND first fic post AND and i didn't fully get into the flow until i was almost done so be patient i might rewrite this after awhile

navigation – masterpost

The cameras ate up every helping you two gave them. You and Katsuki were extremely lovey dovey around the cameras no matter where they were, but when there wasn't a camera or paparazzi or a fan around you two, neither of you said much.

It had been arranged by your managers without much input from either of you, to fake date, that is. It was for approval ratings, popularity polls, and although you individually did well enough on your own, together you shot up the charts. Neither of you particularly liked each other but you could be civil to each other, and you knew how to play a camera, so it was working out well.

Now you sat, thigh to thigh next to Katsuki with his left hand held in your lap with both of your hands, smiling at the interviewer talking to the two of you. He wasn't smiling, although that was normal. The crowd, filled with live audience members and other paparazzi looking for the perfect shot, stared in awe at the perfect couple the two of you were.

When the interviewer would ask a question, you'd turn and wait for Katsuki to say something first, and if he didn't or he turned to face you, that meant it was your turn to answer the question.

”Now, there is one question that a lot of your individual and combined fans have been asking a lot lately.” The interviewer, Notaui, began, although he paused, waiting for some kind of approval from the two of you.

You started to nod a yes, and Katsuki spoke up. ”Go on.” He sounded annoyed. He always sounded annoyed though, and you were internally rolling your eyes, although that never poked through to your facial expression. Pure focus in media and PR training had taught you how to maintain an expression while feeling something else entirely.

”Can we expect to hear of a save the date anytime in the near future?” Notaui lifted his brows up at the happy couple. You turn your head to Katsuki, but he freezes, and you squeeze his hand, letting him know you would take care of it. After all, this was bound to come up eventually, and you were prepared.

”Notaui c'mon, wouldn't that ruin the surprise of a proposal?” You say with a laugh, getting the attention off Katsuki for a few moments. At the sound of your laugh, your counterpart dry laughs right along with you. You didn't need a quirk to feel the realisation of the stupidity of the question ripple through the audience. ”Besides we're in no hurry.” You continue, turning and smiling at the crowd with a wink.

The answer you gave was perfect, Katsuki knew that. He also knew that his manager would praise him for letting you handle it, but it still pissed him off a little bit, even if the rewards got him exactly where he'd wanted to be since he decided he wanted to be a pro hero.

Notaui cleared his throat, and his cheeks got a little rosy out of what most would assume was embarrassment, but you could tell, it was disappointment from not getting the answer the producers wanted.

”You just say when.” Notaui laughed, winking at the camera. It made both you and Katsuki question how this guy got his own show, but nobody knew that. ”Oh and guess what, that's time.” He announced, telling you, Katsuki and the audience that the segment of you two sitting there looking perfect, was over.

Katsuki stood up before you did, and with your hands holding his, you were quick to follow suit.

You walked over to Notaui, releasing Katsuki’s hand to shake his, politely thanking him for having the two of you on. Katsuki didn’t shake the guy’s hand, instead just nodding along with your words before ushering off the stage just behind you, barely sparing a second glance at the audience you smiled and waved at. Still, you smiled as you politely thanked all of the behind the scenes crew, just like your manager had told you while Katsuki floated around you, hands in his pockets. 

When you two finally managed your way into the elevator and the doors shut, you both let our heavy sighs almost simultaneously. You glanced over at Katsuki, who had looked over to you at the same time. We’re spending too much time together. You thought to yourself, eyes returning to anything but him.

The ding of the elevator had your smile returning and your hand reaching for Katsuki’s for just a moment longer as you left the building, where a car had been pulled around for you both. Letting go of his hand, you reached forward, pulling the back door open before sliding all the way over to the farthest seat. Katsuki got in, sitting closest to the door he pulled shut. This left just the middle seat between you two.

“Well that was bullshit.” Katsuki muttered, arms crossed while his eyes glared out the tinted window. You turned your head to him momentarily, rolling your eyes as your head turned back to looking out your own window.

“For once I agree with you.” You responded, reaching into your purse for your phone. It’d become routine now, to check your phone after every time you and Katsuki would go out together. First you open your messages, giving a thumbs up response to your manager’s text about doing great. Then you read your mom’s text about how proud she and your father were to see you on TV, which you half-smile at. They didn’t know your relationship with Katsuki wasn’t real. Your mom gets a ‘thanks mom :)’ text back, and you close out of your texts.

Deciding against checking your email, you click on the blue icon with a white bird on it. You ignore the top tweets in your timeline, moving over to the explore page. There it is.

“We’re trending again.” You say into the air, eyes never leaving your phone screen. Katsuki just hums in response. You tap the trending tag, scrolling through tweet after tweet. Of course there were a few people who hated you, or Katsuki, or both of you, but most of the tweets were big hero culture news outlets and fans raving about you guys. Sometimes you did feel a little guilty about the whole thing. Making people happy made you happy, but it’s not like any of it is true. Regardless, you go ahead and like some of the fan tweets. 

Katsuki leans his head back against the headrest of his seat. He mumbles something under his breath and you turn to him. “What?” You ask him, eyes scanning his face.

He huffs, desperately willing himself not to roll his eyes as he always does. “I said, you’re too good at this, (L/n). Better than you should be, anyways.” He says, looking away from you. You quirk a brow up at him. “I mean-” He pauses, as if thinking over his words. “how are you always so cheerful with the fans and press?” The questions echoes in your ears.

“Easy. I think about going home.” You responded, more nonchalantly than you left. Of course the lie was tiring, but being in your own bed, surrounding by blankets and pillows and your cat Zero, his different fur colours always keeping him quite clear in your vision in contrast to the shades of your bedding as your eyes scan over the screen of your laptop, giggling at the youtube video displayed on the screen. 

Katsuki looks at you.. oddly? It’s almost a scowl, but not quite. It’s almost like he’s simply displeased. You stare right back at him and pull your lips tight together, silently reiterating your words. He grunts in response, it’s his nonverbal version of ‘okay.’ 

As the driver rounds the last corner before your apartment, you notice something in your peripheral vision. Was that..? You question, eyes looking into the driver’s rear view mirror. You can’t be sure of what you’re seeing since the angle is meant for the driver, not a passenger, but when the car stops just outside the carpark of your apartment complex, you take the chance to glance back as your readjust in your seat, gathering your purse and looking around for anything else you may have left behind in the car. Cameras. You were seeing cameras, maybe they were fans, maybe they were paparazzi, that you couldn’t tell. 

You reached for the door handle, when you felt your phone buzz. Sighing shortly, you reach for your phone, a text from your manager being the sole notification at the bottom of the screen. Without clicking it, your Face ID unlocks your phone, switching the text from a new message notification, to showing the contents of the text. It tells you that there are eyes on you and Katsuki which, granted, you knew, but it always made you shiver at how she always knew.

While you didn’t like the idea of inviting a man prone to outbursts into your safe haven, you still acted immediately. You couldn’t help how your media-trained mind worked. “Give me your jacket and come with me.” You say into the air, words clearly meant for Katsuki and he looks over to you from the window, confused while you typed back an ‘okay’ text to your manager.

When he didn’t move immediately, you lifted your eyes from the screen and looked at him. “Bakugo, now.” You told him, eyes looking at him almost as if he was crazy. Katsuki began to shed his jacket, handing it over to you with a frown. 

“Why am I going with you?” He asks, rolling his shoulders back. You start to drape the jacket over your shoulders.

“I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.” You huff, offering your hand out to him. “Ready?” 

All he does is slide his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers with a nod and a grunt.

Oh the things you do to remain at the top.

@ STARLITRAYS : please do not translate or repost my works without my expressed consent and permission. please do not copy any of my works.

[thesamoanqueen]

Bimini Dream

A/N: When I wrote it the mood was completely different, it was an inspiration born from a friend suggestion, but seemed correct to me wait before posting it. It has nothing to do with what happened and I won't write anything about it for the same reason I haven't published this story until today, Roman is a character/Joe a real human being and there's a big difference for me. Breaks are useful to understand what our priorities are, unfortunately life is not always a dream or a vacation, but we all should appreciate what we have.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, 18+ Inspired by Naked - Doja Cat

Giving up his spot hadn't been what he imagined, what he had prepared himself for. It had been difficult, exhausting, even more so after the first few weeks. Four years had the ability to make everything a habit and when the time for big projects had arrived, the impulse had still been to be present no matter what had happened. Your relationship had been put to the test. Roman had seen you angry, frustrated, disappointed even, troubles in paradise that Roman didn't want and risked taking away more than a belt from him. You wanted the best for him, the best for the new chapter of his, your, life together and he couldn't get it with old habits, you were right, as always. So he had learned to control from afar, focusing on the next project, without answering every call or request that didn't personally concern the work he had pending. Months had passed, a time in his mind that was confused, short and even endless, but the well-deserved vacation had finally arrived. Not a one-day break between filming, interviews and meetings for new projects, a real vacation with his woman.

A paradise for the two of you. Made of palm trees and crystal water, fresh sheets and feet sinking into the damp sand of a private club in Bimini. Days spent away from chaos getting drunk and kissing, caresses and massages to take away the memory of punches and bruises, your laugh in his ears at all hours. You were happy and carefree like a lil girl again and Roman was unable to take his eyes off you in those moments, sure of wanting this for your entire life together.

His eyes scanned you, as you slipped out of the sundress just beyond the threshold of the private area, your thong bikini to greet him provocatively between soft curves dirty with sand and salt. The sound of a song hummed all the way to the dining room table to grab some fruit and disappear onto the balcony overlooking the beach. Just the time to get a drink for himself and attracted like a sailor by his mermaid, Roman followed you out, sitting on the sofa to enjoy the show you were delighting him with. The wavy movement of your hips is hypnotic, the water sliding between your barely covered breasts is an invitation as dangerous as your fingers, busy washing a day of snorkeling off your skin. The taste of fruit and alcohol on his tongue unable to wash away his thrist and your eyes finally finding him, as bright as the familiar smile forming on your lips.

- "Why are you looking at me like that?" – he hears you ask, continuing to massage your thighs.

- "You' enjoying yourself"

It wasn't a question, but pure pride, the reward for his efforts. He would have given you anything if you had only asked, spoiling to the point of forcing you to say enough, his absolute priority was you, the pulsating engine of his continuous success. He couldn't have looked at you any other way than with adoration, gratitude. Always there for him, always ready to support and push him.

- "I’d have more fun if you came to keep me company" – you mutter, a playful pout and a hand reaching out to call him.

And how could Roman say no to you? He didn't want to, he had never been capable of doing so, and putting down the drink, he freed himself from his tank top to join you under the cool water of the shower, his hands quickly finding your body, those curves where his muscles fit like a puzzle to reveal the rough skin under his fingers.

- "You're still covered in sand" – he notices, cleaning you carefully, while you lean forward, filling the space between you two until your breaths mix.

- "Nope, it's brown sugar scrub, you wanna taste it?"

A whispered offer, almost a secret, even though you already knew his answer. He had always been a hungry man, but you awoke a feverish need in him, the urgency to consume you and be consumed furiously as soon as your eyes met in a complicit silence.

- "Mmh you keep testing me" – he noted, placing an innocent kiss on your nose, already feeling your fingers free him from the bun and copy with a real kiss.

Flavor of mango and dragonfruit surrounds him, an inviting aftertaste when your teeth bite into him slowly, eliciting a dangerous moan from him that makes you smile devilishly, drawing Roman even further under the water. His hands stop you, gripping your round hips, dark locks dripping onto your breasts. The silence of the empty beach not far from you two, now filled by the sound of close breaths, growing tension making Roman’s muscles tense and your core soften.

- "‘cause you’re too good" – fingers caressing his broad chest, running your nails over the shiny tattoo up to his broad shoulders, to lock behind his neck – "now can we get naked?" – you finally ask.

The new offer is not a secret nor whisper, there was nothing playful about it, just pure desire and Roman is a good man, but sure not a saint, so he grabs you by the back of your neck, forcing you to tilt your head, watching in admiration as your breathing stops for a moment already, a silent moan for his sudden commanding behavior leaving your honey lips.

- "Strip for me babygirl, slow, show me first" – he orders against your ear, licking away his own words before taking a step back, just one and enjoying the show.

Your hands leave him sadly, but you obey, moving your wet hair from your shoulder to play with the thin string holding up your colorful bikini top. You pull it down, slowly, stretching the fabric until the bow comes undone and Roman watches it fall at your feet like anyone should have. He follows your fingers caress from your collarbones to your breasts, full and perfect for his hands and passes one over his face, moving away his hair, while yours slide down the belly he loves to kiss down to what he loves to eat. Bimini had its own fountain of eternal youth, Roman's was there between your soft thighs, always ready to welcome him, juicy and tasty like the fruit you wrapped your lips around every day for breakfast. He watches you turn, eye over your shoulder and crouch down to take off your thong, leaving it to keep company to the top. When you get up Roman can't hold back a sound of approval, eyes glued to the two brown hills that you rub on his already hard boner, and then turn around and caress him.

- "Why you keep standing there? Don't you want to slip into something more pleasant?" – your body presses against his, breasts tickling his muscles - "… maybe me?" – you invite him and his mouth finds yours without waiting a second more.

Neither of you tries to go easy, you kiss without haste, but consuming each other, cool water sliding on your heated bodies like Roman's tongue on yours. You suck on his lips as he maneuvers you to have total control and you let him do it, abandoning yourself against the wall to free him from the swimsuit he kept on for your day together. Roman kicks it away without care, growling hoarsely into your mouth as he feel you gripping his dick in your hands, torturing the head with a soft thumb until he break the kiss with a heated moan. He presses his forehead to yours, letting you prepare him, your mouth trailing kisses down his neck and shoulders, biting into sun-tanned skin and licking away water drop by drop.

- "There's no where else I'd rather be" – he squeezes your hip, smashing his other hand against the wall, your nipples rubbing against his chest and you smile.

- "I love how you look at me… makes me feel so special" - you meow against his mouth and it's enough to make him snap.

Oh, special would be an understatement to describe you.

Roman lifts you up effortlessly, his large hands on your round ass, letting your legs wrap around his hips like a belt. He would have gladly worn you for the rest of his days, anywhere, without shame if only it were possible, sinking into your soft folds sweeter than any victory. He watches as you throw your head back, shaken by the pleasure that hits both of you in finding each other and he takes the opportunity to suck your neck, giving a couple of lazy thrusts, to spread you and savor the spasms of your center that gets used to the presence of him. Your arms hold him, lips ready to cover him with soft kisses on his temples and freckles, fingers laced in the dark locks of his hair to pull them, make him growl and guide him to you.

His attentions will leave a mark on you, but neither of you cares. You have nothing to hide, you belong to each other and you both show it with pride. No one will pass by that beach, Roman had paid good money for your paradise and he didn't regret it at all. Everything to make you smile.

- " nhm… you're getting wet as fuck" – he hums, adjusting his posture to increase the pace.

His hips become more commanding as he feels you give in and with his face buried between your breasts, he works you without going all the way, spending his time playing your nipples, devouring and licking the sensitive flesh to reduce you to a gorgeous panting mess. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, onto his shoulders, your head resting on him, almost a hug, bodies impossible to separate and on his tongue that aftertaste of brown sugar.

- "R-Ro… ahn, keep doing that" – you moan, holding him against you.

His name belongs in your throat like a jewel, the kind of gift no one else could give you because only Roman knows what you need to satiate your thirst, what touch makes your body shivers and what is needed for a lovely bow. He grins, he knows not going deep makes you even more needy, he feels your heart hammering like the water falling at his feet, your moods dirtying his hard cock. Then he stops torturing your breasts, letting your body slide a little further down and the moan with which you delight his ears feeling him entirely Roman swallows it as he kisses you. Squeezed between the wall and his massive body, with no chance of escaping him, he moves an arm under your thigh to a new angle that makes you scream with the first thrust.

- "Hm, it's so g-good… God… more- more-" you beg, your gaze liquid, lips swollen.

- "I own this pretty pussy, hmm is mine. I know how to make her sing…" - he growls, pushing himself between your folds until you throb.

A satisfied smile spreads uncontrollably on his face, pride, possession, desire, love, a mixture in his guts that burns where your bodies are united and from which Roman cannot take his eyes off, mesmerized by the sight of your honey spread all over his flesh now that you are stretched to perfection. He watches your walls suck him in, clinging to the veins on his skin, hips moving incessantly, while your pleas become louder in his ears increasingly dizzy with growing pleasure.

- "P-please… Ro… there" – he knows where you want it, he knows what he has to do to see you faint in to his arms.

And he hits that spot, without mercy, giving you what you want, focusing on that weak point able of making you breathless and driving him to madness. The spasms of your body, soaked and panting, are shocks inducting him into a sort of competitive trance, his hands hooked at your side, at that thigh bent almost to his shoulder to have complete access to your core. You tremble, his flesh swelling your center every time he pushes into you, making him growl excitedly, sight matching the furious sensation of the now imminent climax. Your moans become strangled cries and then Roman shifts his gaze to your face, to intercept your almost desperate expression, the one that always anticipates your orgasm. When it finally arrives, he feels your nails digging into the flesh of his forearms and your voice fades into a delicious cry, he kisses you, hammering your sweetest spot without stopping for a second and he watches with pleasure the violent tremors of your body.

- "My precious girl… cum, you're so f-fuckin gorgeous" – he growls obscenely against your lips, seeing you open your eyes again with a lost expression, your hips swinging to meet his thrusts and please him too.

- "G-give it to-to me" – you beg, but it wouldn't even be necessary.

He finally puts you down, still holding you by the hips to avoid your legs playing a nasty trick and he enters you from behind, this time sinking completely, one hand on your ass to spread your soft buttocks. You meow, your sensitive center trembles from his intrusion and Roman throws his head back smugly, licking his lips, feeling the water run over his face and your hot folds around his flesh. He slides deep, his cock covered by your white nectar and energies gathering at the bottom of his abdomen ready at any moment to explode inside you. You are soft, familiar, holding you in his arms is a sensation capable of making him feel at peace with the world. Your hips roll tiredly, giving him everything you have and Roman thrust to take it, pounding deep inside you, the furious ecstasy of heat building every time his balls slap you making your back arch against the wall. He gave you what you wanted, always before himself, but now it's his turn. It's a violent, rough ride during which your sweet whispered words mix with his hoarse moans, legs burn, while he lowers his head and finally abandons himself to the wave that suddenly hits, dragging him inside you. The climax is overwhelming, Roman gasps, everything in him seems to empty inside your core, his hips fit into the beautiful curves of your body, mind blank and body unable of wasting a single drop of himself outside.

One of your hands finds him, resting on his forearm in a silent caress and when the hot wave it's finally over, Roman lowers himself onto you, placing a kiss on your back as you smile tiredly. You’re the one who breaks away from him, because for Roman it's an impossible feat he never tries to accomplish.

- "Such a hard working man" – you joke, wrapping your arms around him again.

Water slides against his back, washing away sweat and moisture from both your bodies, while he cradles you, your face pressed against his chest. Roman places a kiss in your head, a satisfied and soft smile on his face as he feels you hold him, so precious and for a moment the two of you stay there, until he’s again stable enough and he drags you out of the shower. You folllow, already knowing what he has in mind, fingers agreeing to leave him just long enough to wrap both of your bodies in white towels before walking back inside. Another refreshing glass to rehydrate and you and him collapse on the bed, hugging each other between the scented sheets, lulled by the sound of water and your breathing.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @sortudademais @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @wrestlingprincess80 @tribalauthor

[websterss]

TRUST ME (1) — COLE WALTER

SUMMARY: All he wanted to do was help you overcome your fear of riding a horse by yourself, he would have never gone through with it, if he knew the outcome.

WARNING(S): some fluff, pure angst

WORD COUNT: 4,138

PAIRING: Cole Walter x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

A strange tension lingered between you and Cole after you moved in a few months ago. You had gotten along with the other boys and Parker just fine, but as soon as you came along, it was as though Cole wanted nothing to do with you, or perhaps didn’t know what to do with you around, You had no clue what this tension was based off on, but it had made every encounter awkward. It didn’t help he was always trying to be a flirt too.

Standing near the entrance of the horse stables inside the barn, you watched as Cole fed and took general care of Custard. 

"You wanna ride?" Cole then asked in a nonchalant tone, gaze flickering over to you with a light smirk before turning back to the horse.

“Me? Oh uh…no. Not by myself. I’ve only ridden on the back with someone back home. But I’m too scared to take the reins. Plus I think that horses are the only animals that don’t like me very much.”

Cole laughed at the notion of horses not liking you. He merely hummed in response, stroking Custard once more while he seemed eager to be fed. 

This was the first time you hadn’t felt the awkwardness fill a space with Cole and you couldn't quite explain why it felt comfortable. 

He then turned his gaze to you for a moment, before speaking up once more. “Who’ve you ridden with before?”

“My cousins from my mom's side of the family. They have their ranches so I’ve been lucky enough to say that I’ve been on a horse. Though I can’t say the same about being in full control of one.”

"Wanna try?" He asked gesturing to the horse. The edge to the question sounded a bit teasing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” You laugh putting your hands out. “I more than likely will fall off out of pure panic.”

"Afraid he'll buck?" He said, the edge in his tone playful again. "It's not too hard– I promise." He then turned to you, with a slight smirk on his face. "Hope it’s not me that you're not scared of, are you?" He asked.

“You? No…Custard, maybe.” You glance up at the beautiful creature

"He's one of our nice horses. Never nipped at a person in his whole life. Can't say he’s never not bucked off anyone but…You'll be fine." He said with a smirk. "That…and aside from a couple of scratches from his hooves when you try to get on, but trust me you'll be 100% fine. How about it? Come on- I dare you."

“Dare me. How comforting.” You wince as you try to take his reins but he moves causing you to back up. 

“Woah!” Cole says. “Seems like Custard here got agitated by your approach.” Cole himself took a step back with a slight grimace in your direction. “Looks like he really doesn't like you." He breathed out a laugh, turning his back towards you once more. At the same time, you couldn't help but see a tinge of disappointment in his eyes upon failing to coax you to try mounting the horse.

“It’s fine Cole. We can do this some other time, yeah? It’s getting late anyway. Besides, Custard doesn’t seem to enjoy being in my presence so much right now.” You gave a slight grimace.

Cole took a breath in and out but didn’t turn to face you, instead took to stroking Custard before sighing quietly. "We'll see about that," He said with faint certainty as he took ahold of the reins in one hand. "You stay right there." He then turned to Custard, who seemed to calm down a little bit as Cole moved beside him, stroking his mane.

“What are you doing?”

"Getting him more used to you." He said with confidence, moving around the horse with a soft hand. "Don’t worry, he’ll forget you even reached for his reins while scared in the next couple of minutes– he'll start loving you. I promise." He then turned back to you with another teasing smirk.

“I don’t know about that...” You chuckled nervously as he walked him over to where you stood. You made a noise as Custard was only an arm's length away.

"Trust me." He said confidently as he held the reins tight. With your reluctance though, Custard only became more agitated with each step he took closer towards you. He whinnied slightly and stomped his hoof. Cole still had his eyes on you, however– seeing your nervous expression.

“Cole I’m only making things worse-“ You shook your head as Custard stomped his hoof again.

"Trust me..." He repeated as he continued to walk up Custard towards you whilst remaining cautious in his movements.

By this point, Custard's ears were pinned backward, and was quite vocal in his disliking of you  All of a sudden, the horse turned to face you as his nostrils flared. Your heart sank as he started thrashing his head wildly. 

“Cole…” You held your hands out in front of you. Your eyes widened as he dragged his hoof like he was getting reading to charge at you.

Cole's eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the reins tighter, staring at you as Custard tried to take a step forward– almost charging at you.

"Quit backing up. That is the worst thing you can do right now–” He said, his tone stern. 

Custard then proceeded to take another step forward, but this time Cole was ready as he blocked the horse's legs– keeping him in place.

“Don’t move, just stay calm.” You froze like a statue, waiting on Cole for his word. 

He then let out a breath of relief as Custard stopped huffing towards you. He stared at you for a moment. “You okay over there?" He asked, looking at you with genuine concern now. Custard on the other hand seemed to be calming down by the minute, turning to face Cole as he continued to pet him.

“Okay? Yeah, I’m great…other than the fact your horse just tried to charge me!”

Cole's gaze became a bit sharp at the sarcasm. He rolled his eyes. "He didn't– He didn’t charge at you. I’d never let that happen. Now, if you can stop being all sarcastic– that would be great." He said in a rather blunt manner, as he then moved to face you. At this point, Custard had calmed down and was just watching you with curious eyes.

You looked down at your shoes. Feeling stupid for being scared. Maybe you read the creature's body language wrong, then again how would you know? You knew nothing about them. You hadn’t meant to make Custard agitated.

"Look at him..." He said firmly, as Custard seemed to be waiting for you to just give him a chance. "See? He’s doing nothing wrong. He just got scared by your approach, that's all." He then sighed heavily in your direction. "You wanna know how I got him to love me?” 

You shifted your gaze onto him. “H-How?” 

“By giving him the time of day."

“Really?” You eased up.

"Yes really. I was like you. I was scared of him in the beginning. Now he’s my favorite one out of all our horses."

He moved towards you with Custard, reaching out for your hand to bring you closer to the horse. Custard immediately got a little more agitated as he stared at you.

"Look– He won't bite. I promise. He's just scared, like you. Just stroke his mane for a bit." He said, his voice firm and reassuring. Custard continued watching you suspiciously.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He then let your hand go and stood to the side to observe you and Custard. You hadn’t even realized he walked away leaving you two alone. Custard was still looking at you with a curious stare, though that all seemed to melt away upon you finally stroking his mane. The horse then seemed to relax and started lowering his head, seeming almost grateful for the pets.

You breathe out a laugh. Then turn around to look at Cole finding him standing at a further distance from you two. He watched your eyes grow slightly. Shaking his head. “You’re okay! You’re doing good, just breathe.”

You continued to slowly stroke Custard's mane, as he seemed more comfortable with you now.

Slowly, he started to take a few steps in your direction, as you were finally able to reach out and stroke his side. He even seemed to enjoy it. As you moved closer, you could see that Custard was quite a fluffy friendly creature. 

Cole continued to stand to the side, slightly amused by your initial fear as Custard continued to relax under your touch. He found himself not being able to avoid smiling but didn't want to distract you from this moment.

Custard continued to enjoy the attention with his large brown eyes locked onto you, as he lowered his head further.

Cole stared at you in mild amazement. He did not expect you to get this far with Custard considering his attempts to get you to mount the horse. Though it was pretty obvious he was impressed. After a couple of more strokes, Custard let out a happy whinny. He kept staring at you once you stopped, almost as if waiting for you to continue.

"I told you…He's quite nice once you give him a chance." Cole said, stepping closer with a slight smirk.

“You’re not so bad after all…” You muttered softly to the horse. You stroked his hair. A smile adorning your lips. 

The horse now started shifting his head, as he leaned into your hand– wanting more. Cole had walked up to you by now, giving Custard a quick stroke as he happily let out a whinny.

"There. See?" He asked, seemingly pleased with this development.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

He let out a low hum and leaned back, watching Custard for a second before staring at you again.

"Want to try riding him now?" He smirked.

“Oh um…” You look back to the horse. Then back to Cole. “You know what…yeah, I would actually.” You offer a small smile.

He nodded and walked towards Custard- holding the reigns of the horse once more.

"Just stay there. I'll get him ready." He moved Custard beside you and started fiddling with the saddle and whatnot. Custard kept watching you with curious eyes and then turned to Cole when he called his name.

You nodded back with a smile. Watching as he moved around the stables with ease.

After a few minutes, Cole had finished setting up the saddle. He then turned to you as Custard looked at you once more.

"You ready?" He asked and you would have noticed that the smirk finally left him as he took off his hat and handed it to you. He wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable riding the horse.

Custard still kept staring at you, though his eyes were no longer suspicious— and seemed happy to see Cole's attention now turned to help you get on him.

“Yeah…” You nodded. “So do I just hold onto here?” You pointed to a spot on the saddle. He nodded and came closer to you.

"Just hold this handle here, and put one foot inside this stirrup. I'll do the rest." He said as he came right up to you and helped you up on Custard, pushing against your bottom to lift you up. He pulled on the saddle straps, and stirrups, making sure you were comfortable and safe. Once you got comfortable, he stepped back and smiled at you again.

"You ready now?" He asked again, though his voice was no longer teasing. It was reassuring.

“Yeah.” He then grabbed the reins and led Custard out the barn doors and toward the training area as he watched you out of the side of his eyes. Custard, of course, seemed quite happy to have you on his back as you went out.

By now, you felt much more comfortable on Custard's back as you held his reins tightly in your hands. He continued to walk around freely, watching Cole every so often.

"You ready to speed up? Or should we take it slow?" He asked you, his eyes still locked onto you as you rode along the fence.

“Speed up?” Your eyes widened. “We just started Cole.” He hummed thoughtfully, as Custard seemed to be getting a little bored from walking at a pace so slow.

"We can take it faster than this for sure. I'll be beside you– nothing will happen." He then looked at you with a reassuring expression and gave Custard a bit of a nudge. "Just take it easy with the reins, alright? All you have to do is hold them tight."

“Okay…okay. I can do this.”

"That's the spirit, you got this!" The horse then trotted forward a little bit faster now, as Cole watched you.

Custard breathed out, as if sighing and testing and judging your experience as a rider, digging his hoofs into the dirt, as though he was trying to indulge how you would react to him now picking up the pace.

“Cole. He’s going faster!” You exclaim. 

He looked at you with an amused expression as Custard started trotting faster and faster. "Just hold on to the reins! It's fine." He said, his voice now being firm and certain.

Custard then suddenly picked up even more pace, going much faster as if challenging you to keep up and take control. You held tight to the reins but in the blink of a second. Panic flooded your mind.

You looked back in Cole's direction, who was still following you with a calm expression before he suddenly spoke up again- trying to guide you towards keeping up with Custard.

"Slow his pace. Just grip the reins tightly and look straightforward. Then, pull the reins back in your direction to make him slow down." He explained as Custard was going even faster.

It was too much to comprehend. Everything was happening so fast that you ended up pulling at his reins instead of gripping them.

Custard seemed to get agitated by this, almost like he could sense your fear. The horse's hooves seemed to be tapping against the ground quicker and quicker now as if you were not quite fast enough to control him. You could do nothing but hold on for dear life as Custard tried to go against the pull of his reins as fast as he could.

“What are you guys doing out this late?” You both turned towards the new voice that started approaching from the house. It had been Alex. Upon the distraction, your grip had loosened on the reins and Custard took this as his chance to throw you off him. You gasped as you fell backwards, your heart sank. Then nothing. Your head colliding with the ground hard first, your shoulder, then your body colliding down next, rendering you unconscious.

“Cole!” Alex yelled running towards you. Having seen you get thrown off. 

Cole was instantly startled by this whole scenario, feeling a sudden panic as he whipped his head around to the thump his ears caught. He looked to Custard who was whinnying away, dread hitting him not seeing you on his back, his face falling as soon as he saw your body on the ground. He held his breath. 

“Y-Y/n.” He called out. Upon realizing you were unresponsive his panic seemed to melt into worry and terror. He was at your side in the blink of an eye, running and falling on his knees hard against the dirt. He knelt pressing his ear against your nose, you were still breathing. 

"A-Alex go get Mom and Dad!" Cole yelled immediately, as he tried to shake you awake, patting against your face to try and get a response from you. When he cradled your head, dread hit him when he pulled his hand away, drops of red staining his fingertips. His breathing hitched. Alex stared wide-eyed, trying to gather his head at the scene before him. When he made no move to go, Cole yelled again, his voice cracking. “Alex! G-Go get Mom and Dad! Go get Mom and Dad now! Go—” He didn't seem to hear a thing as he shook you frantically to try and wake you up. “Y/n– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, oh god please!” He pleaded, his vision getting blurry from the tears. 

“H-Holy shit!” Alex tripped over his feet as he turned back around and ran for the house. Yell as loud as he could to alert his family. “Mom! Dad! Dad!” Cole heard Alex hear in the distance. 

You remained unconscious as Cole patted against your cheek. His dad and mom ran over after having been awoken by hearing their son scream bloody murder. He watched as Cole tugged you into his arms rocking you back and forth. They had only ever seen him in such a state after his football career was over.

His dad, upon approaching, looked at Cole in complete and utter horror as they both looked at your unconscious body and the horse now trotting next to you both. “She won’t wake up. S-She won’t wake up!” Cole shook his head. 

"What the hell happened?" George asked, looking from Cole to the horse and back to you once more. Cole started to talk, but he still seemed much more focused on you than he was talking to his dad.

"Custard threw her off, Dad. It was bad. She hit head first." Alex hurt in. 

“Oh my god!” Katherine knelt before Cole. Squeezing his shoulder as she took note of the red on his hands. 

“What have I told you boys about riding at night? The horses are supposed to be in their stalls. No riding after dark, that’s our rules, Cole you know this– You two were supposed to be sleeping!” His dad sighed running a hand down his face. “Okay, we gotta go. Alex, go get my keys now.” 

“I know. I know Dad– She just wanted to ride him okay? Who was I to say no to her?” He laughed but it hadn’t reached his eyes. “I thought I could get her used to Custard���” He looked down at you in his arms. Gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hands. “This is all my fault…”

“Let’s worry about whose fault it was after we get her to the hospital, sound good? Can you pick her up?” Cole nodded in response, looking up at his dad with a solemn gaze, before looking back down at you.

Custard was being stopped by Alex, taking hold of his reins. Looking between his parents and you in Cole’s arms. Cole kept stroking your cheek, begging whoever would hear his silent plea to be able to see your eyes again.

"It was supposed to be harmless and simple..." He said quietly. "Not sure what went wrong...I don't think I've ever seen Custard do that before..."

“Sweetie…” Cole looked up at his mom. “We gotta move quick with this okay, before any more serious issues come up. Let’s go get her help.” Cole held a slight frown as he agreed, he inhaled deeply before sliding his arms underneath your back and legs. With a grunt, he slowly stood up. His mom placed your dangling arm against your chest, brushing back hairs that swept your face. 

He looked down at you thinking how you looked so peaceful as you were unconscious. Yet, something told him that you were probably having quite the nightmare right about now. He felt bad that his attempt at trying to help you overcome your horse-riding phobia had ended up like this. Though, to be honest, he hated the way it ended up like this. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. 

Cole looked up at his mother, before looking at you with what seemed to be a guilty look. 

“Come on Cole.” She ushered him forward towards the truck his dad drove up to the front of the house. She turned towards the rest of the party now all waiting at the steps of the porch. She opened up the back door for Cole to let you two in. Danny mostly. “You’re in charge until we get back. Make sure Alex puts Custard away alright.” He nodded, not arguing. 

“Is she gonna die?” Lee asked. Solemn written all over his face. 

“Let’s not think like that right now okay? I’ll call when we have more information.” Katherine sighed and shut the door behind Cole where he sat in the back with you. 

Cole looked up at his dad through the mirror and then down at you. “Please be okay,” Cole whispered to you. Katherine and George looked at one another solemnly as they listened to their son. “I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you…” 

It had been a long and agitated night for Cole. His dad had to keep him from bouncing his leg up and down multiple times and gave up eventually knowing he wouldn’t stop. 

It was only when the doctor called their name that his world had stopped. He had turned from the doctor and his parents, gripping his hair before he turned and began punching the wall adjacent to him. He had broken down in tears as his dad wrapped his arms around him from behind. George sank to the ground with Cole as he tried to take in the news of the state you’d be in after the serious head injury you sustained. 

Your skull had fractured upon impact with the ground. There was a slight crack which explained the blood he found on his hand. The doctor went through the types of treatments they’d get started on you but it was when he announced that he wanted to keep you in an induced coma to let you heal properly that made him see red. For how long though…he didn’t want to know. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I'm sorry, bug. I’m sorry..” He wept in his dad's arms. His eyes closed as he rested his head against his dad's shoulder. Katherine placed a hand over his mouth trying to compose herself, not wanting to see her baby in such a state. 

“If you have any further questions let me know. That’s all for now I’m afraid. I’m sorry son.” The doctor gave Cole a sheepish grin before he nodded to Katherine and George, walking off with that being said. 

“Cole–“ George began, but Cole shook his head, pushing himself away from his dad. 

“How long am I grounded for?” He clenched his jaw. 

“That’s not– Hey let’s worry about it another time, not right now.” George rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in a lot of pain right now–“ 

“Pain?” Cole scoffed. “You think I’m in pain right now…” He smirked, flexing his jaw. “No seriously Dad, how long am I grounded for huh? A week? Two weeks? A month? Till Y/n wakes back up? If she even wakes up?” He exclaimed.

“Cole, sweetie–“ Katherine went to console him but flinched when he stuck his finger out not wanting to be touched right now. 

“How long, Dad?” He looked through his lashes at him.. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now son.” George clenched his jaw. 

“Why not huh? I can see it in your eyes already. Your disappointment in me. Come on, we both know how much of a screw-up I am in this family. Tonight only proved it further. So how long Dad?” 

“How long? You want to be grounded so damn much then fine…You’re grounded till the next school year starts. Happy?” George let his hands slap to his sides. 

“George!” 

“Super...” Cole smirked then walked back out of the hospital. 

“Cole! Cole! Where are you going?” Katherine called out to him. 

“Anywhere but here.” He threw a peace sign out over his shoulders. 

Katherine turned to her husbands in shock. “Till the rest of the semester?” 

George closed his eyes, regret hitting him instantly. “I know…I’ll talk to him later.”

“Yeah…then you’ll unground him 'cause that is not what he needs right now. Okay– he is very vulnerable right now. You know how he feels about Y/n and this will only affect him more if we don’t stand by his side. Cole needs us more than ever right now. We’re all that girl has. We promised Triny…” Katherine looked defeated. “Please let her get through this…please get her through this.” She placed a hand against her collarbones. Muttering to herself and praying for a miracle. George pulled her into his chest, pressing soothing kisses against her temple as they stood in the hall. 

[pickingupmymercedes]

I need you to let me go - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty

wordcount: +2K

a/n: It's not even a slowburn atp, just pure longing and angst. Anyway, do we want a happy ending or just pure heartbreak and right person wrong time trope?

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The air thrummed with a deafening bass beat, the pulsating lights painting the faces in the opulent ballroom with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Y/n felt the familiar unease crawl up her arms. Parties like this were a necessary evil, a way to keep her father's business connections happy. But that night, the forced smiles and meaningless conversations felt unbearable. Her eyes flitting across the room, searching for the familiar dark hair she had seen before, a hint of that easy swagger that always seemed to draw her gaze.

Lewis stood laughing to a corner, his arm casually draped around the waist of a blonde model. Y/n recognized her from his Instagram baddies rounds; someone with a penchant for fame, fast cars and the medal that was having Lewis Hamilton for a weekend.

A sharp annoyance twisted in her stomach, but not jealousy, not exactly. It was more a bitter disappointment, a confirmation of something she'd always knew but had been trying to ignore. Lewis, the man who often made her world tilt on its axis, was just like the others and their list of conquests.

She straightened her back, forcing a smile onto her lips as a group of her father's associates approached. They were a predictable bunch – men with oil money dripping from their tailored suits, wives adorned with enough diamonds to blind those who didn’t know any better.

The conversation followed a familiar script – pleasantries about the weather, questions on her father, on who would take after his business, about her "jet-setting lifestyle." Y/n answered with practiced ease, her mind already a million miles away.

But then a voice cut through the monotonous drone. "Y/n! Looking as radiant as ever."

She turned to see Francis Chrysler, heir to a automobile empire and carrying his family name on that party, much like Y/n. They had known each other since they were kids, Y/n would travel up north to spend summer in the Hamptons with her grandmother and Francis would meet his parents in the US, back from his bordering school in the UK.

Y/n couldn’t deny he was something. Tall, impeccably dressed, and with a smile that could charm the birds from the trees, Francis was exactly the type of man everyone hoped she’d marry – stable, successful, from a “good family” and undeniably the type to merge her family’s fortune to even deeper riches.

But that night, he was also the perfect tool for the job at hand.

"Francis" she replied, a touch of coolness in her voice. "Lovely to see you."

The blonde took her hand, his fingers lingering a beat too long. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in the city so early in the year."

" You know me too well. I’d much rather stay in California until it’s warm enough up here" she said, her eyes scanning the room again. Lewis was gone, the blonde model nowhere to be seen.

“But duty called?” Francis focused his gaze on her, trying to get her to look at him before he touched her arm “Something like that” she finally conceded, looking up at him with a warm but emotionless smile.

The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and hollow conversations. Francis, was attentive, even charming in his way. But his attentions only served to highlight the hollowness that echoed inside her.

Lewis's fleeting stares, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her meticulously facade - those were the things she craved, the things she couldn't have.

As the party started to wind down, Y/n found an excuse to slip away. She needed air, needed a moment of sanity away from the suffocating atmosphere and maybe some fresh air from her own mind.

Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took a deep breath of crisp night air. The city lights shimmered below, a glittering reminder of everything she was supposed to aspire. But all she could think about was how her mind and heart could never reach an agreement.

A sudden movement near the edge of the balcony caught her eye. Lewis stood there by himself, leaning against the railing, his face hidden in the shadows. A surge of conflicting emotions coursed her as she noticed he too studied her face – relief, anger, hope.

"Lewis," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enjoying the company, Y/n?" His voice was a low murmur, his hands gripping a bit too tight against the metal bar.

The question was laced with a playful challenge, a reminder of her earlier display with Francis as they talked and his hand rested a bit too low on her waist. "I manage" she replied, forcing a lightness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So, I see," he said, his gaze dropping to where the blonde’s hand had been. A flicker of something dark crossed his face before it was quickly masked by a charming smile. "He seems...familiar with you."

"He's harmless" Y/n said dismissively, the lie bitter on her tongue.

"Didn’t look like that" Lewis countered, his voice taking on a serious edge.

They stood there, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Y/n, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, broke eye contact.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Y/n" Lewis said, his voice laced with amusement.

She scoffed. "Jealousy? Don't flatter yourself, Lewis. You can have your little arm candy."

His amusement vanished, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Is that what he was then? Your arm candy?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/n knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that probably wouldn’t end well.

"Why the charade, Y/n?" He took a step closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. "Why the forced smiles?"

"Maybe," she countered, her voice holding steadier than she felt "because I'm tired of the stolen glances and the late-night texts that lead to nothing."

Lewis stared at her; his expression unreadable. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, processing her outburst.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too, Lewis. The frustration, the longing. We dance around each other like moths to a flame, but neither one of us dares to get burned."

He remained silent; his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What do you want, Y/n? Because honestly, I have no idea anymore. It was never a secret how I feel about you."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Here it was, the question she both dreaded and craved.

The answer, however, remained a tangled mess of emotions.

"I..." she started, then stopped.

There was the comfortable life she'd always known, the endless jet-setting, the security of her family's wealth. The power she carried with her from a very young age. A power her mother had taught her to never take for granted. To never trade for a man.

But then there was Lewis, her very own whirlwind of passion and ambition who challenged everything she thought she knew and wanted. He was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. And she couldn’t stand the possibility of changing a single inch of him, even if he offered.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek. A truth so raw and honest it took her by surprise to being able to say out loud.

Lewis reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. His touch a reminder of their connection that transcended words. For a moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, a silent peace hanging in the air.

"But you want something" he pressed gently.

She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Part of her yearned for a life intertwined with his, a life with the adrenaline he came intertwined with. The other though, craved stability, a future that she could plan about.

"Why are we doing this, Lewis?" she blurted out, finally turning to face him fully again. "This game of… of pretending we don't care."

His jaw clenched briefly, a flicker of frustration mirroring her own. "Because," he began, his voice low and controlled, "because it's easier than this. Easier than admitting what this is."

He gestured vaguely between them; the unspoken truth thick in the air.

"And what exactly is this, then, Lewis?" she challenged, a tremor in her voice finally showing the faltering of her walls.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and with each step, the temperature between them seemed to rise, Y/n not backing the slightest.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Y/n spoke the words hanging in the air, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's torture," he corrected her, his voice raw with emotion. "Seeing you with someone else..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication hanging heavy. Y/n felt his pain echo within her, a bittersweet recognition.

His eyes searched hers, a silent plea hanging between them. He wanted her, she knew that much. But the fear of disrupting their fragile equilibrium, of sacrificing their comfortable charade, held them both captive.

A wave of despair washed over Y/n. They were caught in a never-ending loop, dancing around their desires, afraid to take the leap.

"Then why do we keep doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why do we keep pretending?"

He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing at her hand.

"Because," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

"Is it?" she questioned, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep in finally spilling over. "Because all this yearning is slowly breaking me."

He flinched at her words, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. They stood there, bathed in the city’s lights, the weight of unspoken desires and the reality of their relationship created a suffocating silence between them.

Finally, Y/n took a step back, pulling away from his touch. The physical distance mirroring the emotional chasm that seemed to be growing between them.

“I can keep you in the dark, Lewis. You deserve love. And I can’t give you that. Not right now” The look of raw vulnerability on his face tore at her heart, but she knew she was right. They couldn't keep living in this state of perpetual longing.

"Y/n, I’m not a child, I know what I’m getting myself into" he began, his voice laced with annoyance. But she held up a hand, silencing him.

"I need to go" she choked out, turning away from him before she crumbled completely.

Without another word, she walked back inside, the party lights blurring with the tears that she fought so valiantly to hold in.

Weeks later y/n found herself sneaking into a european f1 paddock late at night on a Friday.

The roar of the engine had long been replaced by the sterile hiss of the garages closing around them. It was a sound she would normally hate, a constant reminder of the world that made Lewis impossible to her.

But that night, it was a chilling and fitting melody to accompany the hollowness in her chest that threaded to swallow her.

They hadn't spoken in almost a month. Not since the party and since their talk, the one that shattered the fragile peace they'd managed to balance.

His silence was a language she knew all too well, a tapestry woven with disappointment and unspoken blame, his and hers.

She watched him from across the dimly lit garage, the harsh overhead lights glinting off at his temple. He looked beautiful, untouchable, a goddamn champion shrouded in the shadows.

It was a sight that would've probably lighten something in her, a reminder of why she kept coming back.

But tonight, all she felt was a cold dread.

"I need your help Lewis.” she whispered, the words a plea and a surrender all at once. The air hanging heavy, thick with the unspoken truth that both refused to accept it.

His eyes flickered to hers, surprise quickly replaced by a steely glint. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as she continued. “I need you to let me go”

Maybe he saw it too, the raw vulnerability etched on her face, the fear that threatened to consume her.

"Because honestly," she murmured, her voice barely above a choked sob, "I haven’t been able to do it on my own”

The words hung in the air, a desperate confession that shattered the carefully constructed walls around her heart. Lewis took a hesitant step towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like hope.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Nobody gets me like you" she choked out, the words echoing the hurt in the duty she felt to follow her better judgment instead of her heart.

It was a messy confession, a tangle of contradictions and unspoken desires. But in the quiet of the garage, under the harsh glare of the lights, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

Lewis closed the distance left between them, his arms enveloping her in a warmth that chased away the chill that had settled in her bones since that NYC night.

There were no answers, just the echo of a question hanging in the air, a question that they both knew neither had the answer to. But for those moments, in the fragile space between letting go and holding on, they hung to a sliver of solace, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out.

______________________________________________________________

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[tsumtsumrry]

Sex Therapist

WC: 3.3k 

warnings: riding the tiger (thigh riding), unprotected sex, language, a pinch of fluff, bit of soft dom!harry, a teensy bit of a breeding kink, and kinda pwp (porn without plot) 

and he’s not actually a sex therapist 

He’s striding towards the door with you trailing behind him, attempting to apologize for the fact that you weren’t even present the whole time he was literally inside you.

“Yeah, sorry. I just don’t―” 

“Think it’s gonna work out? Yeah I gathered that.” he scoffs, his voice laced with venom. 

Yet another one night stand gone to shit.

“I’m sorry―” you insist but he opens the door and walks right out of it before you can even finish your sentence.

It wasn’t entirely your fault, it wasn’t interesting, nothing made you want to be present. He just wasn’t doing it for you. 

Yeah his ego must’ve taken a blow but it’s better than “leading him on”, per se, and having him finish while you just sit there and regret it all. 

You blow a frustrated raspberry and walk over to your couch to plump yourself down on it, immediately regretting even talking to him at that bar tonight. He could’ve been a bit nicer about the whole thing. Even though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t help but feel a little guilty, and the way he seemed so disappointed only made you feel worse. God, you really need to grow a fucking backbone. 

The worst part is you feel painfully sexually frustrated but you aren’t even in the mood to touch yourself, you just need someone to fix it for you. You desperately need someone to fix it for you. 

You opt for just eating dinner, having a long bath and going to sleep, hopefully by tomorrow this dreadful overflow of sexual desire will leave you with some rest 

Wishful thinking.

                                                          🟔

“Delicious, don’t ya think?�� 

You nod and hum and the taste of the pie, somehow it’s unlike any other you’ve tasted and you can’t thank Harry enough for introducing it to you.

“This is like heaven. How in the world did you find these?” you breathe out, your voice in something like a breathy daze like drawl. 

“A friend of a friend.” He says, chuckling at your current state. He can’t even blame you though, it really is that good. 

“I fucking love your friends.” You mumble and he chuckles with squinted eyes.

“‘Kay, now that I’ve loosened you up with food, mind telling me what’s been going on with you lately?” He says, his tone bordering a coax. It surprises you, the fact that he noticed and the fact that he’s bold enough to ask.

You and him don’t talk all that much, you have mutual friends, and when he’s in town he always says that you’re the first person he calls, but you don’t really believe him. It’s probably something he says just to be kind, that is his brand after all. 

“Hmm?” you pretend to be clueless, taking another bite of pie. You could always lie, it’s not like he’d know the difference, right? 

“You’ve been so, like, tense? I don’t know how to explain it but I can literally feel how on edge you are.”

Harry notices you’re looking anywhere but at him and he ducks his head to try and catch your line of vision, “hmm? What’s going on? You okay?” 

Your heart flutters a bit at his genuine concern, but you know you still can’t vocalize the fact that you desperately need to get laid to someone you loosely consider a friend. 

“M’fine, Harry,” you notice his look of pure disbelief, “really, I am.” 

“You sure? Like I said I can feel how tense you are, and I’m never wrong about these kinds of things…” he trails off, his eyes flicking to the movement of you licking some of the pie remnant off of your bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. I don’t bite and I’ve been told I’m a great listener. 

You bite your lip in thought and once again his eyes follow, only this time you catch it. 

It’s when he says your name with genuine worry in his voice that you finally look him in the eye and open your mouth to speak. 

“Okay you have to promise not to laugh, or, like, judge.” you rush out, honestly not believing you’re actually doing this. It kind of helps that you and him aren’t all that close, it’s easier to tell him that it would be to tell someone else. He also just radiates charm and comfort, something that you’re sure he’s using to his advantage. 

“I promise. Already told you I’m a great listener, love. Now what’s been bothering you?” 

“I just, I’ve been so wound up and I can’t seem to fix it.” you finally say, hoping he gets what you mean by “wound up”.

“Well I usually meditate, trust me it works wonders. And if you really need it I’m sure I could book like one of those cool masseuse thingies for you.” 

You groan quietly and he frowns.

“No, H, I―I’ve been wound up.” You stress the words more and you can see exactly when the realization flashes in his eyes. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, do you have any problems with, like, finding people?” he offers quietly, trying to allude to one night stands.

“Yes actually. They can never―”

“Get you off?” he quips and your breath stutters with laughter. You mumble a small “yeah” and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. 

“You ever tell them what you want?” he asks and you frown. You’ve just realized that no, no you don’t. 

“No…” you mumble. 

“Well there it is.” he says with a tone of finality and you pout. 

“I mean I know I should, but sometimes I don’t wanna be giving cues while I’m having sex with someone, you know?” you speak softly, almost like you're embarrassed and you guess Harry can tell, because next time he speaks he makes sure his voice is soft and reassuring. 

“No I get it, but you know most blokes are pretty lost when it comes to pleasing a woman in the bedroom. I know it must suck but you gotta help ‘em out a bit.”

“Yeah…” you pout again and Harry smiles softly at it, “I just want someone to like, know me, you know? Or just know a woman’s body in general.” 

“I get it, love. Can I give you a tip?” he says , his eyes swimming with something you can’t quite pin down.

“Sure.”

“Tell them exactly what you want, every single thing. Being vocal is very important. Everything you’re feeling or not feeling, you should tell them.”

“Everything?” 

“Everything.” He says, looking you right in the eyes as he’s fiddling with his pretty rings. He leans down to get another bite of pie and you look around in thought.

You feel stupid for what you’re about to ask but you feel like you owe it to yourself to really get all you can from this rare type of conversation you’re sure you won’t have with anyone else besides a sex therapist. “Do you have any idea of what I should like...say?” 

Harry pauses his chewing and his eyebrows raise in the slightest, you catch a tick in his jaw and you immediately regret asking the question. But just like he has been this whole night, he seems to read your mind and instantly answers your question like it’s the most casual thing he’s ever heard. 

“For example,” he clears his throat, “if something feels good you can say good, if it’s not doing anything for you, tell them, and tell them how to...make it feel good.” 

“And if they still don’t do it right?” 

“Find someone new.”

“I feel like I’ve looked everywhere.” 

“Maybe you need someone familiar.” 

You can tell he almost regretted it when he said it, but there was also something of what seemed like determination in his eyes. You can only imagine the mental battle he’s having right now. 

“Someone...familiar?” You say, your tone is nothing less than breathless.

“Mhm...someone you know, someone you trust, someone that can take care of you.” You know Harry’s noticed your change in breathing, the way you tried to subtly press your thighs together, you know he’s noticed and that’s why his voice has lowered to a calculated sultry tone that you know he only reserves for times like this. He’s downright seducing you and you don’t seem to have a problem with it, “any ideas?”

Now he’s just teasing. 

You shake your head no, your breaths coming out as shallow puffs. 

It’s only now you noticed that he’s been leaning in, he positions his mouth near your ear and his breath makes your entire body erupt in goosebumps, “do you want me to show you what it’s like? Hmm? Show you what it’s like to be cared for?”

You’ll be embarrassed later for how fast you agree, but that’s not important right now. 

“Can I touch, pretty girl?” he whispers, pressing kisses below your ear, smirking when you gasp. “Hmm? Can I?”

“Yes. Please.” 

All you get is a hum in response. He’s been keeping his hands to himself the entire time, but as soon as you gave the okay, his large hands moved to your thigh, trailing higher and higher but never quite getting where you want. 

“Gonna let me kiss you?” he whispers again and you nod quickly. As soon as his lips envelop yours you let out a satisfied sigh, one that he returns with a hum and a small smile. 

He moves his hands to your waist, swiftly ridding you of your leggings and your underwear after he asks for consent, his lips quirking from how quickly you said yes. 

You notice him pause, he’s watching you with dark, hungry eyes, almost like he’s trying to figure out what to do with you. You feel sort of self conscious sitting here all exposed. You go to put your legs together but you’re immediately stopped by what sounds like a disappointed tut. Harry shakes his head, ‘don’t. Please.” 

“Do somethin’ for me?” he asks and you nod softly. He pats his right thigh and you immediately know what he’s insinuating, you can feel the wetness reach your thighs. 

You straddle his thigh, taking a sharp intake of breath when his muscles flex under you, directly on your core. 

“This okay?” he asks.

“Yes, yes. Please.”  

He smirks and places his hands on your hips, your eyes are squeezed shut, the butterflies that you feel all over overwhelming you. 

“Open your eyes, poppet. Look at me.” Harry rasps, his forest green eyes moving rapidly across your face like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory. “So pretty. Always thought you were so pretty.” 

You open your eyes, immediately meeting his, you can see them soften at the nervousness you’re sure is swimming in yours. 

“You okay? You’re comfortable with all this? You know we can stop. As soon as you aren’t comfortable.” Harry says, his voice staying hushed and low, creating what feels like a safe bubble around the two of you.

“Yeah, m’okay. Promise.” you whisper out, and he shoots you a reassuring smile. 

He rests his hands on your hips, tightening his grip when you hum and the warmth of his hands, and drags your hips in one slow, long roll on his thigh, “so wet. Feels so nice and wet on my thigh” He marvels, committing to a rhythm of slow, sensual rolls, having you panting and moaning on top of him. 

“Look so pretty getting y’self off on my thigh like this. So fuckin’ pretty.” His thigh hitches up, causing you to gasp and crash down onto his chest. You nuzzle your head into his neck and he coos, bringing one of his hands up to your hair to pet you some. “Okay, baby?”

Baby. Your heart almost aches at the pet name. He’s really showing you what it feels like to be cared for. The whole nine yards. 

“Yeah, s’just...a lot. Feels really good.” you mumble into his neck, you can almost feel him shudder when your breath hits his skin. 

“Want more?” he whispers in your ear. You almost want to moan at how close he is.

“Yeah. Please.” 

He keeps one hair in your hair, caressing and petting you, while the other resumes the movements of your hips on his thigh, speeding up. You gasp out in a bit of surprise and he hums. The skin skin contact is driving you completely insane, the muscles on his thigh are so toned and firm and perfect, so so perfect. It feels perfect. 

You hadn’t realized you’ve been whispering it out loud until he coos at you yet again, squeezing your waist in encouragement. “Mhm. You’re so perfect.” he whispers. 

You feel the familiar simmering in your belly, the tightening feeling that makes you wonder if you’re actually going to explode, only this time it’s more intense. Probably because you’re proper turned on and have a guy under you that knows exactly what he’s doing and that thought, that thought just makes your release speed towards you faster.

“Harry.” you whine. “Gonna come. Please―”

“Go ‘head. Come all over my thigh, pretty girl. Make a mess of me. Please, I need to see it.” he encourages you, watching as you tremble on him and your eyes roll into the back of your head, letting the pleasure completely overtake you. 

You’re chanting out mindless praises and Harry’s comforting voice is helping you come down, ground you and make you feel safe. 

“Good girl. Did so good. Came so pretty.” he praises, pressing kisses to your shoulder. 

When your hand falls from his neck to his stomach, you immediately become aware of how hard he is. You look down, he’s hard, leaking even and you have no idea what’s come over you but you want it so bad. 

“Harry.” 

“Hmm, baby?” he whispers back, still peppering kisses all over your upper body. 

“Fuck me.”

He hums again, this one a little higher than the last and his lips finally break away from your body, “fuck you? Are you sure, love? I don’t wanna preas―” 

“You’re not. Please, please. I need you to fuck me.” 

“S’okay baby. I will. M’gonna fuck you.” 

“Thank you, thank you.” you chant, reaching down to give his cock, slow firm tugs. His mouth parts and he moans lowly, watching as your pretty hand works him, “condom?” he whispers, resuming his kisses on your skin. 

“M’clean, and on the pill. Don’t want one.” Now this, this is something you never do. You never go without a condom. But you just need him. You need him to the point where you don’t want any barriers in the way, you just want to feel him. And the thought of him filling you up, the thought of being filled up by Harry, is nearly sending you into overdrive. 

“I’m clean too, would never hurt you. You’re sure, though?” he double-checks. It’s downright mortifying how fast you nod. 

“Right. You ready for me?” he mutters and you look up to meet his eyes, dark green clouded with lust and you just want to get so fucking lost in them. You cannot believe how cliché and sappy and all you’ve done is hump his thigh like a teenager, but you can’t find it in you to care.  

“Please.” Is all you say. He lifts you up some and positions the tip at your entrance, swiping his cock between your folds, up to your clit and back down again, groaning at how wet you are. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous cunt.” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself. He finally slides himself in and you both gasp. He’s so...big.

Again you didn’t realize you'd said it out loud until he lets out a breathy chuckle, “thanks, baby. Y’pretty pussy is squeezing me so tight, fuck.” 

“Okay to move?” he whispers, nipping and sucking at your neck, humming every time you let out a breathy moan. 

“Yeah, please move.” you all but moan out. 

He lifts your hips up slowly, so so slowly, and brings them back down the same in a sensual roll. 

“Fuck.” he whines. And god is that the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You love vocal men, hate it when they act like a rock and expect you to make all the noise. You’re so glad that Harry is one of the good ones. 

“You feel like a fucking dream, baby. So good on my cock.” he moans, directly into your ear and you shudder on top of him. 

You’re riding him, but he’s doing all the work, thrusting up into you and making you practically scream and tremble on top of him, “Oh my fuckin―Harry!” 

“That’s right, baby. You getting what you need? Tell me. Remember? You gotta tell me, sweet girl.” he rasps, moaning when you tighten around him at his words. 

“Yeah, yeah. S’good, so good.” you mumble, barely coherently as he scrambles your brain. 

He lays you down, hiking your leg over his shoulder and starts to get right back to fucking you into oblivion. A tingle runs down your spine at the new angle and you whimper out a weak call of his name. 

You’re both sweating, you start to meet his thrusts, watching as his mouth drops at the feeling. “Yeah, baby. Fuck me back. Just like that, sweet girl.” 

He can see it in your eyes, how much you want this release, scratch that, need this release, and he’s more than fucking willing to give it to you.

“You need to come? Hmm? Need me to rub your clit so you can come on my cock?” When you moan out a broken “yes” he tuts, “Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you need.” 

“Please rub my clit, Harry. Make me come, I need to come.” you mumble out. 

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” he says with so much pride and warmth in his voice you feel like melting into the couch. 

“Your good girl. Yours. Please.”

“Yeah, baby? All mine.” he leans down and for the first time tonight, he kisses your lips. And if you melted into the couch before you’re a puddle now. 

His thumb finally lands on your clit and he starts to rub tight, quick, circles, driving you so close to the brink so fast. 

“So close, so close. M’gonna come. Harry, please.” 

“Come for me, baby. Know you can. Soak my cock. I need to feel you.” he spews out encouragement, moaning along with you as yours become more frequent and loud. 

“Fuck yes, Harry.” is all you say before you go completely silent. Your mouth opening in a silent scream as you find your release, spasming uncontrollably on Harry, but his rhythm never falters.

“Good fucking girl. Christ.” he mumbles, not stopping his circles on your clit. 

“Please come for me, Harry.” you whine out, bringing your hands up to interlock behind his neck. 

“Yeah? Where do you want it?” he says, his voice sounding a beautiful type of strained.

“Inside. Inside me.” 

The only time Harry’s rhythm falters is when he hears those words. You’re gonna fucking ruin him.

“Bet you’re just fucking dying for me to fill you up, fill you with my cum. You love it don’t you?” he taunts you. 

“Yes. I want all of it.” 

“Gonna fuckin’ c-come” He whines loudly before he thrusts into you  five times in an uneven pattern and you can feel when it’s inside you. It’s so warm and primal and intimate and you don’t think anything compares to the feeling. 

“Baby.” he breathes out before he collapses on top of you, suddenly craving the skin to skin contact and warmth of your body. “You are...remarkable. For lack of a better word.” and you’re both giggling. 

“Mmm, y’so warm.” he whispers with a kiss to your slightly parted lips.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, H.”

“Anything for your angel face.” he smirks. 

[dancermk]

I’m a little disappointed to see so much discourse, fandom competitiveness, and plain arguing going around at the moment in regards to queer film/TV. People complaining about too much sex, not enough sex, too cheesy, made for the hets, too happy, too sad, too realistic, too unrealistic, and a million other petty issues. I, for one, am a queer person in my 50s and I grew up with practically zero representation! Yes, we want to continue onwards and upwards with quality and varied shows BUT let’s be HAPPY we now have representation! Like, actual shows where the central characters are queer, not just a side character who gets f*cking murdered! There is room for all different types of representation - so enjoy the types you like, and let others enjoy what they like.

And on a side note: progress is progress and film/tv is a business that has to turn a profit! If some queer content is made to appeal to the straight community, and will also act as a means of reducing homophobia and increasing understanding, then that’s a good thing. That means in the future more and more content will include queer stories and representation. If only 10% (ish) of the population is the maximum target audience then shows won’t keep getting made!

There is a huge backlash all over the world right now - a “push back” by conservatives and religious groups that want to wind back the clock, and specifically the last decade of advances.

So stick together queers and LGBTQIA+ allies.

I’m super happy knowing I don’t have to wait years between content anymore. And I’ve loved all different types of shows over the last 5 years, for lots of different reasons!

Interview with the Vampire - is giving me the toxic, passionate gothic love affair I’ve always wanted. And addressing interracial relationships.

Heartstopper - is filling me up with pure joy and hopefulness for the future.

Shameless - gave me Ian and Mickey - unique, anti stereotypical gays with a tragic yet ultimately beautiful love story spanning 11 years

Lone Star 911 - is giving me TK and Carlos whose sexuality barely factors into the storyline! Yay!

Looking - gave me an authentic queer experience and an intoxicating love triangle.

Red, white and Royal Blue - gave me a sweet, cute romcom that allowed reality to be sidelined. Fun escapism!

Young Royals - had me captivated by first love and intense angst.

Fire Island - an underrated romcom that made me laugh so hard I cried.

Sex education - shoved the realities of sex in our faces and provided me with laughter and drama and a range of queer identities.

Gentlemen Jack -gave me historical lesbians with spectacular wit, and feminine power.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg- because there’s SO SO SO many more shows I could mention! Don’t at me because I didn’t mention YOUR favourite. This is my point! There is SO much great content it would take all day for me to include everything. This is just a sample - and that’s f*cking brilliant!!

So maybe we could all start posting/tweeting etc about what WE DO LIKE / LOVE / MAKES US FEEL LOVED AND SEEN and put down the device if we’ve got nothing nice to say.

Sending everyone a love filled week! 💜

[sketches4mysw33theart]

To Indeed Be A God

The title has almost no bearing whatsoever on the writing, I'm just obsessed with the Dead Poets Society right now.

Pairing: Henry Winter (The Secret History)

Summary: A drowsy morning at the country house with Henry Winter involves a row around the lake, a breakfast picnic, and falling asleep in the boat.

Warnings: Google translated phrases, please let me know if these are wrong!

Check out my previous Henry Winter piece!

I awoke to a throbbing in my head, a contrasting harmony to the soft twittering of birds floating in through the open window. I couldn’t resist the groan that forced its way from my mouth. It felt as though my head was being split open repeatedly, like a misguided executioner was standing at the head of my bed and swinging an unsharpened axe.  

It was several moments before I moved at all after I had rolled over, my body feeling scarily heavy yet weightless at the same time. I had little desire to so much as breathe manually, let alone open my eyes and face the merciless joy of the sunlight.  

As I lay there, eyes closed firmly, hands grasping the thin silk duvet, flashes of the previous night came to me as though through a camera’s lens.  

The dinner, a large affair to mourn the passing of the twin’s beloved dog. The wine sloshing in the Abernathy’s prized crystal wine glasses. Those same glasses raised in multiple toasts and clinking together like blood-soaked moths in the candlelight. Charles at the piano playing melodies of sweet summers past. The bottle of Bourbon passed between us without a care for tumblers. Francis plucking Camilla from the armchair she had curled herself up in to stumble around the library in a clunky dance. Bunny’s face, lined with confusion and acidity, watching us all through rolling eyes. Richard’s reflection, gaping at the chandelier-lit room through dazed eyes, as I stared out of the window, looking for stars but finding only my own distorted face.  

And Henry, tall and proud and stoic and quiet. Him I could picture clearly, as sharp and focused as a still life portrait. He’d drank as much as us, more, yet he’d never fizzed over like we did. Only watched from the sofa as we exploded like fireworks, flashing reds and yellows reflected twofold in the whites of his eyes through his glasses.  

Then, me falling into place beside him, head spinning in dizzying circles even as I laid it back on the plush sofa cushions with my eyes shut, light popping behind my eyelids.  

Then, him whispering to me, the soft, cold anchoring of his deep voice, but either I couldn’t tell what he was saying, or I was not in tune enough to listen.  

Then, I was there, waking up in bed. 

I opened my eyes when the pounding in my head began to lessen, allowing the bird song to wash over me rather than suffocate me. The thick curtains were open, weak sunlight creeping across the oak floor and furnishings, lighting them up like whisky. It was cool, that early morning chill before the last of the lingering summer heat could settle in again.  

I watched the floor for several minutes, praying for my headache to cease. Of course, praying never did anyone much good. Henry would be disappointed.  

I didn’t have a clock in the room I stayed in during nights at the country house. Francis’s great aunt, whose room that used to be, couldn’t stand them. She felt they made her rush.  

Still, I could guess it was early. There was no noise. Francis wasn’t singing in the kitchen as he made breakfast, Charles and Camilla weren’t bickering meaninglessly in the depths of the house, Bunny wasn’t honking his laugh at some ridiculous jibe. There was nothing except pure tranquillity.  

I knew of one other person, for certain, who would be up so early. That was motivation enough to get out of bed. Still, it was a struggle. My body fought it as I sat up, pushed myself to my feet, scrabbled through my bag for clothes, and checked myself over in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. 

Finally, I exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. The hallway was quiet, eerily so, and I paced down it, focusing on the soft, luxurious carpet against my bare feet over the pounding of my head. 

On the stairs at the end of the hallway, Francis was curled up, still fully dressed, like a small child unable to stay conscious on a drive back from the beach, snoring obnoxiously and fiercely cuddling a near-empty bottle of whiskey. His overcoat tails were tangled between his bent legs, pale, slender ankles poking out conspicuously from his half pulled-off socks. In the country house, this was not an uncommon occurrence. 

I clambered over him, trying not to catch his limbs or face with my foot. As though sensing my presence as he slumbered, Francis uncurled his body, spreading himself out across several steps and out of the way of my bare feet. Smiling, I leant down to pat him gently on the cheek, careful not to disturb him. He looked incredibly peaceful, for once.  

I left Francis on the stairs, snoring in the shadows of the half-shuttered windows, and headed towards the library. There was a fair chance Henry would be there and, if not, I would likely spot him on my way over. 

As expected, it did not take me long. Henry valued the morning hours, the weak light illuminating the thick pages of his books, the quietness of a dawn tainted only by the songs of the birds.  

He was sat outside, of course, fully dressed, a suited silhouette through the ornate glass doors, a splatter of ink against the canvas of autumn. Although I pushed open the doors as softly as I could, his head shot up as soon as it began to squeak. 

“Good morning,” he said, with a smile. “Drink up.” A slight gesture of his hand brought to my attention a full glass of water and a sleeve of ibuprofen sparkling in the cool, creeping light. 

“Good morning,” I mumbled, fumbling with the package in my desperation to push out two of the pills. When I managed to do so, I swallowed them quickly with a large gulp of water, which I drained gladly straight after.  

Once I’d swiped at my lips, I took the few steps to his seat. Standing behind him, I rested my hands on his broad shoulders and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. I caught the smile on his face, which did little to lessen the furrow of his brow. 

“How’s the translation going?” 

This question elicited a heavy sigh from him. “It’s all wrong, unfortunately. The verbs won’t translate well, and these sentence structures are ridiculously tricky.” 

“Boreís na to káneis éfkola agápi mou,” I breathed into his ear, bringing my fingertips to his sharp shoulder blades. You can do it easily, my love. 

He laughed. “Óchi ótan eísai étsi, den boró.” Not when you’re like this, I can’t. 

I hummed humorously, spreading my massaging fingertips along his taut shoulders. Spread out before us was the house’s garden, as pure and fierce as Eden, coming swiftly to life in front of my eyes. The sun was just emerging, lingering in the far east like God, watching His creations come to life as on the seventh day. Henry was watching it too, finally relieving himself of his books in favour of the glitter of the autumnal flowers, Gomphrena and Didiscus and Goldenrod. 

It wasn’t often I was up early enough to catch Henry on mornings like this. Despite our circumstances, we never shared a bed during our stays at the country house, primarily because Henry didn’t want to disturb me during our short vacations, or so he said. But also, because, I believe, he was rather shy about our activities around the rest of the Greek class. They knew, of course – we were never as subtle as we thought - but, still, there was something prudish lying within Henry. Or perhaps it was possessive. Not that it matters now, I suppose. 

“Let’s go to the lake,” he said, suddenly, startling me from my observance of a large bee bumbling its way drunkenly through a flowerbed.  

“Now?” I questioned, surprised. Henry enjoyed the mornings because of the quiet solitude they offered him, the time to be alone with his books and his papers. Things he valued even more, I think, than me. 

“Would you like to?”  

I was still sleepy, even more so after taking the ibuprofen Henry had laid out. Still, I could picture how lovely it would be: the drowsy, sun-laced walk through the dandelions and uncut grasses, the heady smell of nature flourishing around us, the somniferous sound of waves lapping at the gently rocking boat, the mesmerizing feeling of floating on air. 

“Yes,” I said, “I would, actually.” Henry was always confidently persuasive. Eerily so. Not that I would have needed much persuading, really. I just liked to think there was something magic about him.  

He sighed, stretching out his aching limbs as he got to his feet. Pre-emptively, he removed his jacket and folded it meticulously, leaving it on the seat of his chair. “Good. Perhaps we should take breakfast with us?” 

It was a wonderful idea, and we slipped back inside to prepare a breakfast picnic: a full bottle of orange juice, a half-full stoppered bottle of champagne left over from the previous night, a package of strawberries, a selection of pastries bought from Camilla’s favourite bakery on our way to the country house the previous morning, and a packet of large blueberry muffins.  

With our breakfast packed in an old wicker basket, we set off into the morning sun, meandering through the budding flowers and tall grasses, clasped arm in arm. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the lake, but we lingered meaninglessly on the way, I to admire the nature and wildlife, and Henry to momentarily relieve his arm of the picnic basket and watch me with a smile when he thought I couldn’t see him. 

Eventually, we made it, and eagerly hopped into the lonesome boat oared at the makeshift jetty, picnic basket still in hand. Considering it was so early, Henry was alive with vigour, and rowed eagerly, pushing us quickly to the centre of the lake. He had been somewhat withdrawn over the last few weeks, particularly during our days at the country house, so seeing him come to life among the falling birch leaves was a gift.  

We covered one lap of the lake at a fairly quick pace, talking about our latest classes, Julian’s theory of Dionysiac architects (which was, essentially, that the secret language they spoke was more akin to modern day English than any other language throughout history), and the startling resemblance that morning of the pond and surrounding countryside to Jan Brueghel the Elder’s ‘Odysseus and Calypso’ - one of my favourite paintings.  

Henry slowed as we began our second lap of the lake, and I watched his concentrated expression in the water’s reflection.  

“Aren’t you tired?” I was feeling a little peppier now, despite the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping gently at the boat, and I knew Henry had been up significantly longer than I had. “Can I take over?”  

“No, you don’t have to do anything.” I was still watching him in the warped shine of the water, and he caught my eye through the fairy-dust covering of birch leaves. “Just sit right there and look like you do.” A smile flittered across his face briefly, and I shook my head, laughing.  

“If you say so,” I said, still laughing. Henry rowed on and began to fill the silence with his stream of thoughts on Heraclitus’ ideas of opposites, and how the philosopher decreed Hades and Dionysus as the same God, a belief Henry was strongly against. Occasionally he’d break his speech to mumble a suggestion for his translation, which he no doubt tucked away into another corner of his mind for later. 

At some point, I lay back across the seat of the boat, head coming to rest on the lip, one hand stretching over to trail in the lukewarm water. Francis had said once that one of the neighbours had seen leeches in the lake, and Bunny always swore blind that there were water snakes in there. Yet, still, we all went out on it as often as we could, swimming and fighting and trailing our hands through the ripples.  

Listening to Henry speak tantrically and feeling the warm water kiss my fingertips was as delicious and satisfying as being carried in Charon’s boat across the rivers separating the worlds of the living and the dead. I wanted it to last forever. The best kind of purgatory. Psuche. 

But eventually, we did come to a stop, once Henry, with some difficulty, had managed to turn the boat and situate it towards the centre of the lake. I sat up and stretched, groaning at the creak of my bones.  

As I heaved the picnic basket up on to the seat, Henry balanced the oars properly, wiped at his brow, and rolled up his sleeves, eying the cutlery and plates I was laying out. He must have been starving.  

I looked to him to ask if he had any preference for pastries as I began doling out them onto our plates, but the question died on my lips when I saw a constellation of bruises flowering in a strange pattern along his freshly revealed arm. They were fresh, a shocking purple tinted with red. 

“Henry,” I exclaimed, croissant held in one frozen hand. “What in God’s name have you been doing?” 

He furrowed his brows at me, following my eye line quickly. I saw him flounder for a moment, but in a flash, he was as composed as the Queen’s Guard.  

“Don’t fuss, it’s nothing. I fell in the garden yesterday morning, those damn dogs left more garbage on my front path. Is that for me?” 

I believed him, of course. It was a perfectly sensible answer, and certainly not the first time something like that had happened. If only I’d known... 

I gave him the croissant, and finished plating up the food as he poured two Mimosas into the old teacups we’d packed, using far more champagne than orange juice. We ate in a comfortable silence, broken sporadically by random thoughts and anecdotes; we were both slipping into fatigue once more now the sun was fully risen, not too warm against our skin, and the inebriating smells of flowers and the birch trees were reaching out to us, woody and smoky like winter night’s gone by.  

Four Mimosa’s later (between us), we had finished our breakfast, and were lying, nearly unconscious, in the boat, which was very slowly bobbing its own way around the lake once more. Henry was stretched out completely, arms acting as a pillow, and I was tucked in on my side next to him, resting my head on the broad stretch between his shoulder and chest. 

God knows how long we stayed there in the boat, moving listlessly without direction or need, bumping lightly against the bank until one of us made the effort to lift a foot and push us away, listening to the birds' tweet and fly above us, feeling the gentle caress of the birch leaves across her skin, hearing the soft intermingling of our breaths just over the gently lapping water as it granted us passage, seeing the shades of light and dark through the shield of our eyelids. Zoe. The divine life of God. 

When we were roused, the air, the very nature around us felt different, alive, charged. The sun was crawling towards the centre of the sky, but several dark clouds were on its heels. Hours must have passed.  

I came back to life first, awaking as though from death’s sleep, drowsy and confused. What came to me, however, was the distant call of my name, the familiar cadence of the voice. Francis. It was Francis.  

As his shouting got closer and slightly more frantic, I pushed myself up with one hand braced against the smooth wood of the boat’s sole, using the other to first wipe the sleep from my eyes and then shield them from the sun.  

Francis was on the far bank, heading towards the small jetty, and waving his arms as though welcoming in a plane. He was, I noticed with some amusement, still wearing the same clothes he was in when I’d stepped over him that morning. I waved my free hand at him, and he shouted my name again. “Are you insane? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Is Henry with you? It’s gone 12, you know.” 

I couldn’t muster up the energy to respond to him, but I did lay a hand on Henry’s shoulder to shake him awake. With a bit of resistance, he came to, and sat up in the same sluggish manner as me, stretching out his arms, back, and neck. 

Francis called to him now. “Henry? Henry! Bring the damn boat in, will you? Julian’s coming to dinner tonight, and I need everything to be ready.” 

Henry waved his fingers at him, a dismissive acknowledgement, a king sending away a disobedient courtier. Finally, he opened his eyes, landing his gaze directly on me. He smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth so quickly I did not have time to respond. “Piso ston politismó,” he said lowly, a melancholy look setting in his features. Back to civilization.  

He situated himself carefully on the seat while I stayed where I was watching him like I was at the feet of one the post-Socratics. He picked up the oars once more and started rowing us back to bios. Back to life. 

[peterparkersnose]

I Need You More Than I Wanted To

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: needy din, lowkey out of character but idc, pining possibly one sided, lots of begging, angst, description of y/n’s body, masturbation reference if you squint HARD, sappy speeches at the end, arguing, lots of angst (bc angst is my favorite)

a/n i’ve had this idea in my drafts for MONTHS so i’m so happy i’ve gotten around to writing it.

summary Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

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read time: 11 mins 8 seconds

Din’s heart ached like no other watching you these past few days. The silent suffering, the longing, and the pain he has been observing was hard to watch; the hardest part was that he was the reason for this.

He knew you like the back of his hand. For years the two of you have been traveling the galaxy, searching for as many credits as possible and managing to have a fun time while doing it. Living life with you is how Din preferred it. It was carefree. The two of you made a great team and wanted to live lavishly one day. That was the dream, at least. The two of you saved credits like crazy, but it never seemed to be enough to purchase a palace. Once the kid came along everything changed. The sudden dream of living large seemed to fade over the horizon. Something clicked. The two of you were now parents.

When Greef mentioned to him about you when the two of you visited the new Nevarro, Din was sure he was just messing with him.

“Are you two finally together?”

The question confused Din.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Din was shocked. Had he really been that clueless?

“That’s impossible,” Din responded. Greef laughed. “You're telling me that if she made the first move, you wouldn’t reciprocate it?”

A strict “No” came from Din. “Never.”

The child cooed and the two men turned around. There you stood in the doorway, waiting for them to finish their conversation. The exact conversation you had just overheard.

Your mouth slightly dropped. The expression on your face was shocked. You quickly blinked and closed your mouth, trying to mask your disappointment. But Din knew. Maybe it was enough to fool Greef Karga, but Din knew he had just hurt the person he cared for the most deeply.

“H-he wanted you,” you said silently, not expecting your voice to quiver. You set down Grogu on the red velvet couch. Din nodded. Your lip quivered as you stared at him through the visor in pure shock. With hurt in your eyes, you excused yourself to the shared quarters the two of you were given for the time of your stay.

“And that…” Greef began. Din scooped up Grogu in his arms. Grogu made a noise and grunted, seemingly wanting to now leave his father and attend to his heartbroken mother. He squirmed in Din’s arms until he let him down.

“That was the look of heartbreak.”

The next few days on Nevarro were filled with a cold distance. Neither you nor Din wanted to discuss the elephant in the room. Simple words were exchanged in the interest of the child, but that was about it.

It was your last night on Nevarro.

Din had been at the cantina with Greef Karga and some of his associates, celebrating the newly liberated Nevarro. You had gone to bed early, staying with Grogu.

You were surprised Din even agreed to go out, he hated outings such as drinking with friends. If things weren’t so heated at the moment, he would have much rather preferred a night staying in with you and watching some stupid show on your datapad and eating whatever your heart desired.

The sun had been set for hours. You were lounging in your satin red sleep robe that was complimentary given to you upon your arrival. The beautiful braid you had your hair up in all day was now gone, your hair was curled due to the all-day friction. The ladies assigned to your care were more than delightful. With the satin robes and braids you could never master, it was like you never wanted to leave. You lay on the king-sized bed you had been giving to Din the last few nights. The couch was beginning to hurt your back, and he was nowhere to be found. 

Grogu, still not asleep, was patting the lavish sheets with his hands. You smiled, watching the curious creature discover the new textures. Your eyes wandered to the marvelous carvings coated in gold paint that covered the pillars in your room. Eyes beginning to droop, you were suddenly awoken by a cold hand on your exposed thigh. 

“Buir!” he squealed. Recognizing the Mando’a right away, your thinned-lip smile turned into a frown. “I know,” you sighed, extending your hand towards the child and brushing the top of his head. “He’ll be back soon.”

Grogu crawled up your legs and onto your torso. Grogu began grabbing some of the strands of hair that lay on your chest, you slowly separated his hands from the grasp. “Good job on speaking, buddy.” you smiled, now sitting against the bedframe. Grogu sat in your lap, reaching for your hair once again. A genuine smile arose on your face as you watched your son rest in your lap. The thought of Din left your mind, but only temporarily. He seemed to haunt your dreams as he haunted your days. You fell asleep with Grogu in your lap. 

Din’s clanky armor trudged up the many stairs to the guest bedroom. It was almost like a full workout, he was ready to get into the shower and then get into bed. 

Din absolutely hated his time out; barely being able to sip his drink and listening to the arguing of men about topics he didn't even care about was not his idea of a good night. He didn't want to admit it though—he yearned to spend the night with you. You consumed his every thought, and with every sip of his strong alcohol, he just kept feeling worse and worse. The image of your face re played in his head all week. With the disappointment and hurt he never wanted to inflict on you, the guilt was building up in his stomach like no other. 

Slowly, his ungloved hand waved against the sensor. The door whirred open. Din hoped he didn’t wake you, it was already almost morning, even though the sunrise was hours away. He could hear the morning bugs begin to chirp on his way home. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he set his helmet down on the chair in the corner. He turned around to find you- his heart seemed to skip a beat. 

Laying in the silk robe you were gifted, your legs were parted awkwardly as you slept. You lay on your stomach with your face delved in a pillow. The slow movement of your back going up and down gave Din the confidence that you were okay. One arm lay at your side, the other cradled Grogu against your waist. His breath finally caught up with him once he realized he had been staring for too long. 

The only thing he could seem to think about in his shower was his best friend. The woman who had always been there for him. She was merely a partner until Greef suggested otherwise. The thought of even diving into anything romantic with you never crossed Din’s mind until then. His hand held his seemingly limp body on the wall, holding him upwards as the water washed over him. The thought of you sprawled out on the bed, on his bed was just… 

The thought went straight to his head, making him feel emotions for you he never had before. Your body, the way you lay, how you were protecting his son even in slumber. Everything about you seemed so appealing in a way Din had never felt for another woman. 

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Greef’s voice haunted Din’s mind as he slept. He woke up gasping for air on the couch. You turned to look at him but only for a moment. You made eye contact. It was rare you saw him without his helmet, and even rarer to make complete eye contact. Din wasn’t one for eye contact. Looking down, you continued to fold Grogu’s extra robes that were freshly cleaned and delivered to your room earlier this morning. You were packing to leave. 

Din sat upright, his hand holding his forehead. His head was pounding. Looking up, he noticed a glass of water and a few pills sitting on the table in front of him. Presumably set up for him, by you. His heart sank. Even in pain, you somehow still cared for him. He turned to look at you again. You were still getting Grogu ready to leave. He was jumping on the bed, making gargling noises as you tried to dress him. Din took the pills and finished the water and set the glass down with a clank, so you knew he had seen your gesture. 

“What time are we leaving?” he asked, standing up to finish his packing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; his hair was disheveled and he was in need of a shave. He ran a hand over the patchy stubble on his cheeks. To his surprise, his bag was sitting packed on the same chair where he rested his helmet last night. His helmet was sitting on top of the bag. 

You sighed. “Din,” you croaked, saying his name for the first time in days. He looked over at you. The same pain was there, but the look of exhaustion followed it. “I-I’m not going.” 

His brows raised. A slight panic set in. “What do you mean, your not going?” he asked in a more hostile tone than needed. You drew in a sharp breath and looked back at the same gold detailing you were looking at the night before. “Grogu is packed,” you simply said, scooping the child up in your arms. He squealed at your embrace, cuddling up in your arms. It was the last time you were going to be with Grogu, at least for a while. “Greef invited us to breakfast,” you said, swiftly walking past Din to the door. Your attempt to leave was unsuccessful.

Din grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Grogu let out a whine, as he was shuffled in the hassle. No words had to be said, the stares you were giving each other were enough. Din tilted his head slightly. The feeling of you was slipping through his fingers. Memories of you two fighting bounties, saving credits for a future, and then raising Grogu together hurt him more than ever. You were already too far gone. He had done damage that seemed irreversible.

A single tear rolled down your face. 

It was never meant to go this far. 

“Let me go,” you begged. Din didn’t realize his grasp on you was getting tighter as the seconds went by. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, closer to a mumble.

With reluctance, he let go of your arm. 

“What about the villa?” he called after you as you were about to exit the room. You stopped cold in your tracts. “Don’t bring up the villa-” you scolded him, turning around. The once-thought dream of living lavishly with Din, as a retired pair on a fancy planet scorned your broken heart. “You're really just going to leave? After everything?” he asked.

“You were my everything.” you bitterly cried out. Grogu squirmed in your arms. You sat him down on the bed.

Those words punched through Din like a thousand knives. “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what did you mean?” you ask, approaching Din. “I heard your conversation loud and clear, Din. I understand your intentions.”

“Y/N I had no clue,” he tried to defend himself. “Liar!” you screamed. Din was taken aback by your anger and took a few steps back. “I have spent the last many years of my life following you around blindly. We lived together, slept in the same bed, shared meals, shared laughs, and now share a child! I held you during cold nights! I saw your face, we’ve seen each other nude more times than I can count, you cared for me when I got hurt on that one mission to Tatooine. You cared for me while my leg was broken and I was helpless. We were everything without a title, Din! There is no way you never saw or felt anything. I simply don’t believe it. I can’t believe I thought I could see the true heart of a cold, selfish Mandalorian.”

Din was almost at a loss for words. He stood for a moment, finding words to say as he watched you realize every single word you had just spewed out at him. Your hand began to shake as you sat down, covering your mouth and staring at the carpet with wide eyes.

“Do you think I chose this? This is how I was raised, Y/N!” he argues. Your gaze moved from the carpet and back to Din. “I cannot take a spouse unless they are a Mandalorian, you know this,” Din begged, grasping for straws. He wanted you more badly than anything else in the world, but the creed that was so deeply indoctrinated in him was fighting the feelings.

“Blinded by your creed.” you spat out. Din seethed. The creed he was in the process of abandoning anyways. 

“Why do you think I’m leaving it?” he blurted out. He didn’t want to admit it, but he said it out loud. Never had he ever admitted before to himself, let alone another person that he was done with his origins. The religion he was raised in, the culture that had brought him in and saved his life was now being thrown out… but for what? The convincing Bo-Katan did and saving him from this cult-like creed saved his life, truly deep down. Even if the efforts were small, they awoke something in Din. But was he really ready to shun his culture completely? Din never really came to terms with it, I guess, until now. 

“You have hurt me deeply, Din Djarin,” you said with your lip quivering, stating your final words. With that, you took Grogu and went to breakfast. You knew using his full, true name always hit him in a spot where it hurt most.

As you were about to walk down the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you heard your name being called clearly from the other side of the hall. You turned around, seeing Din jogging down the hall to you.

“Din! Your helmet,” you cried out. He had left the room without it. As he only trusted you and Grogu to see his natural face, anyone who he didn’t trust could turn him into the leaders of his clan. It touched him that you seemed to care for him on some level to still care about his helmet insecurities.

Then again, the reigns the creed held on him were loosening day by day.

“Wait,” he said, huffing as he approached you. “Please.”

“I want to go eat breakfast,” you said sternly.

Din’s arms loosely fell over your figure, his hands slowly touching your arms as they cradled Grogu.

“Don’t go,” he begged.

You looked up into his glossy eyes. Often you would forget how much taller he was than you. Sighing, you looked away.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

Din’s knees seemed to collapse under him. He gave in to the buckling of his kneecaps and grabbed both of your hands, begging on his knees for you.

“To live all these years blindly, to not see what was truly in front of me will haunt me for the rest of my days. I am lost without you. Like a galaxy without stars, I am incomplete. I hope you can forgive me for my foolish words, I did not know what I was saying. You are everything to me. The mother of my child, my partner in crime, my light in the dark, my moon to guide me at night, my motivation, my companion, my love. Please forgive me. I need you to stay. You are all I have, you are all I need. A life without you is not worth living.”

To end his plea, he kissed your hands and wept.

Your right hand moved from his grasp to cup his cheek. It was wet with tears. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, wiping a tear away. “Din please,” you said, tearing up as you watched him sit and beg for you.

As his were moments before, your knees seemed to fail you and you joined him on the ground. Your hands grasped his hair as you engulfed the sobbing man in a hug. The soothing sounds of you shushing him like a baby filled the empty hallway.

“I won’t leave, I promise,” you whispered. This seemed to only make him cry harder. The realization Din had of how lucky he was and how close he was to losing you terrified him.

You would have never thought that you would be holding a sobbing Mandalorian. This was living proof of how much he loved and adored you. “H-how could you ever forgive me?” he asked, looking up into your gaze.

“I already have, my love.”

And with that, the two of you delved into your first kiss. It was wet and filled with passion, but also had a theme of hesitation from the two of you.

In all honesty, it was Din’s first kiss ever.

He moved his lips against yours, following your lead. The passion that moved between the two of you was something you had never felt with anyone else before. His hands wandered to your waist as he feverishly begged for more, but knew the limits of the setting the two of you were in.

Moments before the inevitable breakaway, your kiss was interrupted with a cool paw on your leg and a “Patu”

You rocked back on your legs to see the tiny green baby looking angrily at the two of you. A small laugh came from you and Din as he picked Grogu up and fixed his robes.

“Go get fixed up,” you said sweetly, kissing Din on the cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“One question?” he asked, just as you were standing up to leave.

“What time are we leaving?”

“12.” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

-

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[powerpuffobsession]

Am I the only one who feels that Hazbin Hotel's overall vibe is far too naive and upbeat for an adult cartoon about hell and redemption of sinners?

I feel like before writing this cartoon, Vivzie and the other writers should have made a trip to unfortunate areas of the world and watch how the lifestyle there rolls. Because hell is said to be a place of misery, where there is no trust and a lot of hate, both internal and external... Adam is an object of pure unfiltered hartred (both from writers and fandom) because he dares to live in heaven, such a safe and friendly-natured place...

And yet the sinners who happen to be main characters act more like school kids on a field trip (even more carefree than those, lol) - their selfish and sinful motives are so artificial and are brought up only when these characters need to look like a victim, not like criminals who somehow deserved a place in hell

Obviously, it's a manipulative trope to put them in a better light than Heaven and Adam (who is forever silenced by the writers and not allowed to voice any thoughts and reflections other than "hurr durr murder I luuuv murdering and being evil because that's what I was since I was born, even though Lilith and Eve, born literally the same way as me, were innocent victims from the get go, and no logical explanation for that will be provided whatsoever - men bad, women good")

In the light of all that, the sinners are too eager to trust each other and form "da epic powar of friendship" mlp-sonic-style

In a society built on terror, anarchy and survival instincts, no one would ever bother wasting vital power on noticing someone's problems and helping them out. Everyone is focused on their own problems and desires, and that's what drives them to act. Well, the exception may be family members, and even that varies

That's why Husk's intent to comfort Angel after the later attacks him over nothing at the bar, looks really fake, considering the setting. At first I thought that "loser baby" where Husk insults Angel, was some sort of revenge and Husk laughing in the spider's face. But no, it actually turned out to be a comforting song that started their friendship. Husk literally had no motivation to want to help Angel, because he was annoyed by him all the time prior. If there was some kind of basis for their bonding, I would have believed it. But not like this.

And Angel had no reason to actually like that sort of comfort. I get it when your best friend or a family member cheers you up in a harsh way - you know them. And even when coming from people you trust that can hurt. Now imagine a complete stranger doing that to you. That's actually something that shouldn't be done - trying to playfully insult or jester a person you haven't communicated with for a long enough time to gain their trust. And to make this even more strange, Angel at first reacts negatively, but then suddenly snaps to liking that disrespectful way of comforting for no reason at all.

And why did Angel even vent his problems to Husk, a stranger bartender who he'd hurt before. Wasn't he actually afraid of being laughed at and of Husk using his trauma to spread gossip around or something?

Next, Sir Pentious. In the pilot (which is officially part of canon, mind you), he already felt like a joke sunday cartoon villain, but at least he had some edge to him that made him look like a sinner with some dark history. In the series however, he gets nerfed the very moment he steps into the hotel to the point where it's painful to look at

His tendency to abuse his henchmen, his physopathic demeanor, his hartred for Cherri (instead of embarrassing attempts to get blue balled by her), his sincere power hunger - where did all that go? Vanished in a blink of an eye. All that's left of a promising snake demon is a pile of fanservice. So morally unchallenging and harmless that a viewer theoretically simply cannot resist loving him

Well i'm kind disappointed. We don't even know in what way Sir Pentious had to improve, because the plot never focused on his past, his life goals, whatever made him want to lead turf wars and whatever awful things he did in life, what was the point where he started degrading... none of that. He just became a better person after one "sorry song" and acted perfectly innocent ever since and didnt put any effort into getting ready to sacrifice himself for other main characters

The sacrifice... to me it's baffling how fast the sinners, over the course of just 6 months, actually became Charlie's family figures and risked their lives for her hotel. Such pure child-cartoon-styled power of friendship, built in hell, with the aid of a princess who cant even think through her project of helping sinners without bringing them more trouble... realistically, Charlie would have had to fight angels alone (how convenient it is that no main characters died in that chaotic brawl, right?)

And Charlie herself is far too naiive and soft-natured for someone who is free to walk along the streets of hell looking at all the muder, rape and othe horrible stuff that's happening there. Given that she's 200, Charlie had more than enough time to built up her street smarts and guts and learn to be more practical and mindful, instead of staying with the mind of a 12 year old who needs other characters to do everything for her (Lucifer, Vaggie, Alastor) and then get praised for THEIR efforts. That's hell's royalty and our main character?

Aaand since sinners are portrayed as Charlie's "people" (as if they are a nationality), sweet babies who all deserve redemption and are called innocent by Emily (I can't believe how dumb the writers made angels be) - the true essence of exterminatons is never focused on. Adam and his exterminator army are seen in the wrong, like some kind of monsters who terrorize poor souls. However, think about this - child molesters, rapists, torturers, bullies, nazists, actual racists etc died in those exterminations. Doesnt that seem like something a lot of us would want? To have scum like this disappear as revenge for people they have hurt/driven to suicide?

Exterminations are not really an act of racism, bigotry or something like that. They are an excecution of criminals, which a lot of sinners are.

But the black and white writing is trying to conceal that rather prominent highlight of the rotten part of Charlie's plan (not all sinners deserve mercy or redemption). All that was needed was to make exterminators these icky "villains" who luuuv killing and are never willing to listen

All in all, a cartoon that has an ambitious premise that should be driven by psychological reasearch/analysis and dark serious themes... makes me roll my eyes with its cliche use of "power of friendship" and " strictly good main characters, strictly bad villains" tropes. Too bad such beautiful animation was wasted on such juvenile writing that never had any effort put into it

There shouldn't even be any villains or heroes in a setting like this. Allow the lead roles (sinners in hell) do something actually questionable and be unlikable, don't coddle the viewer in fear of making them even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Allow those, who opposes sinmers, have personalities and reasons, not cliche sociopathy for sociopathy's sake to cause forced sympathy for the main characters

Pristine "safe" writing should not have a place in adult cartoons. Or else they will stay a product that'd rather be watched by 7-14 year olds instead of adults (I can't picture a single adult over 22 who would unironically call hazbin hotel a show that tackles realistic issues in an observant way)

[temis-de-leon]

Day 15 - Kiss while being carried

Characters: Asmodeus x male!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: drunk Asmo, MC implied to be taller, pure fluff, established relationship

A/N: happy birthday, Asmo! You may be my least favourite, but I know a bad bitch when I see one <3 (also happy birthday to twst Silver)

.

When MC opened his eyes all those months ago and found himself in the presence of the Demon Prince, he’d honestly thought he’d died. He’d thought his religious neighbour was right all along and his soul belonged to Hell, that he would receive an eternity of punishment for his heinous sins.

Loving men, that is.

And he didn’t even know how the wretched woman was aware of his sexuality given that she viciously avoided talking to him. Had it been that obvious? MC had always believed his appearance was traditionally masculine enough, almost painfully bland, like an average 9-5 office worker. Also, he had never brought a boyfriend home before. Was the closet he came from wide open and he just didn’t know?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore.

MC never would’ve thought that being in literal hell not only wasn’t actually that bad, but he also enjoyed it quite a lot. He made friends, learnt magic and, in a turn of events that shook his core, fell in love. With Asmodeus, to say the least.

At the beginning he felt uncomfortable around the demon, not used to such a demanding personality. It was something artificial and impersonal that didn’t tug his heartstrings until it slowly evolved into an honest friendship. He discovered the good and the bad, the narcissistic tendencies and the sweet generosity, the begging and the devotion. They’d go shopping or partying and in their laziest days they’d stay home and gossip about everything and anything while doing each other’s skincare routines.

Romance appeared at a steady rhythm and none of them needed to confess to be with each other. Their relationship just happened, no questions asked. One day, MC had enough courage to lean over and kiss the demon and he hadn’t stop doing it ever since.

So, when he found himself carrying his boyfriend bridal style, because how else would he do it, and staring into his drunken state with a loving gaze, MC hadn’t really been surprised. He could only enjoy the warmth Asmo’s body radiated and the way his long nails scratched the skin of MC’s nape, strands of hair twisted between his fingers and face and neck completely stained with lipstick.

Asmo was giggling, whispering sweet nothings in his ear and swinging his legs like a child on a swing, his heels clicking against each other with every step MC took.

“So you enjoyed the party?” murmured MC, feeling more satisfied than every.

He tilted his head to the side, offering more skin for Asmo to kiss and cover in hot pink, but his movements were growing slower by the second and MC feared he’d fallen asleep. To his disappointment, however, he leaned back and stared at him, eyes glossy from the alcohol. MC stopped walking.

“Of course I did! You were there, hon’!” he laughed, curling even closer against him and trying to kiss his lips, unfortunately missing “You make everything so much better…”

His words immediately made him fluster and then it was his turn to hide his face and bury his nose in Asmo’s soft hair.

“I’m serious!”

Asmo cradled his jaw, slowly making him raise his head. Although deeply inebriated, he looked determined and sincere and MC’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep with him and wake up to his features every morning.

“I’ve had a lot of birthdays, MC, but none of them made me happier than the ones I’ve shared with you… Please, let’s celebrate the rest of them together! Forever! Me and you, we don’t need anyone else!”

MC laughed, not sure at what. He knew he looked completely dumbstruck, smitten and lost in thought. He wanted to give the rest of eternity to Asmodeus, but his mortality would probably upset the demon, especially in his current state.

“I’ll be here for the rest of my life and beyond”

He wanted it to be true and, judging by his boyfriend’s delighted smile and teary eyes, so did Asmo.

Before he knew it they were kissing again, teeth clashing and hands grasping everywhere they could reach with desperation. MC slowly stopped a few seconds later, right after tasting the sweetness of the beverage in Asmo’s tongue while he sneaked his hands under MC’s shirt. Laughing at his pouting expression, he placed a tender kiss on the demon’s forehead.

They could pick it up in the morning. For now, cuddles would be more than enough.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @beatlebeesstuff   @mehkers

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Caught up in Fashion - Matty Healy

A/N: something that isnt smut???? applaud me. Also #unedited if there are any errors no there arent

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: bit suggestive, mpind typical cursing, drugs (weed), kissing, matty gets handsy?, he's done way worse

The British public transport system has been an ongoing source of disappointment since the day you learned how to spell the word. Busses that acted like they didn't have places to be, coming too late or just not coming at all, leaving you stranded on the highway in the middle of some city you didn't know the name of, Matty at your side, whining and complaining and being totally unhelpful in general.

This time, however, you had struck gold. Both your buses had arrived on time, making you actually catch the next one and not forcing you to wait around for another, or god forbid, try your luck hitchhiking. 

It was a bit loud, the sounds of families on their way to day trips or lunches filling the bus with noise, the occasional baby crying out for its parents. You were sitting at the window seat, your back to the glass as your legs draped across Matty’s, the soles of your shoes slightly blocking the way for other people, but seeing as the two of you were in the second to last row, it didn't actually bother anyone. 

It was nearing summertime, the blazing sun making clothes stick to your skin and makeup melt off, no brand of setting spray managing to set it. Matty, instead of being a normal fucking person and wearing short, was clad in his signature black skinny jeans, the only flow of air coming from the giant hole on his left knee. 

The two of you had finally found the time (and finances) to go shopping at a mall that had recently opened across the city. You were determined to get there, even if it did take you an hour and two bus connections, Matty insisted that he needed new clothes. 

“I need some tops, seeing as you steal all of mine.” you comment, earning yourself a piercing look from Matty, an insult forming behind his lips. 

“Fuck off, give me my joggers back and then we’ll talk” he gestures to the pants you were wearing which were, in fact, his. They sat perfectly on your hips, hanging low enough so even your longest tops looked cropped. 

“I dare you to try and take them, fucking watch what happens” you threaten him, clutching your pants like he was going to rip them off your legs right then and there out of pure spite. “I look better in them anyway” adding that little comment only made him huff in reply, deliberately turning his head away when you try to give him an apology kiss. 

“Fuck you do! I rock everything, especially when it's mine.” you roll your eyes at him, successfully planting a kiss onto his lips. The smile that spreads onto his face is impossible to hide, even if he denies it. 

The bus finally comes to a screeching halt, the breaks to sound it makes you cover your ears at the high pitched noise. Matty giggles, his eyes creasing up as he laughs at your misfortune.

“At least I haven't gone deaf from having my music at 100 you knobhead.” he holds his hands up in defeat, pushing your legs off of him to get up, exiting the bus. You latch onto him from behind, letting him lead you over the gap between the door and the floor, catching you in his arms when you pretend to trip, performatively falling in slow motion. His hands grip onto your waist, setting you down onto the hot pavement. 

“Smoke?” you nod, walking over to the bench under the bus stop’s roof, the plastic of the seat warm against the back of your thighs as you sit down, leaning against the Fanta advertisement behind you. 

Matty pulls out his packet of cigarettes, taking out two and handing one of them to you. A smile spreads onto your face when you see him lighter, your initials decorating the side. He catches your look, running his fingertips over the slightly faded rhinestones and lighting your cigarette first. 

You take out your ipod and headphones, gesturing for Matty to take one. Without asking, you put on ‘The Masterplan’ by oasis, quietly singing along to the lyrics as he nudges you in the arm. 

“Your music taste is not a shit as it used to be.” he comments, looking almost proud of you. You click your tongue, leaning your head against his shoulder and taking a drag of the cigarette between your fingers. “Seems like you’ve terrorized me so much I finally gave in.” The smoke leaves your mouth as you speak, cheekily smiling up at his deadpan expression, obviously hoping for a different answer. 

“Dramatic much?” you kiss his shoulder, playfully biting his arm making him jump at the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

“Ow??” you just laugh, collecting your hair and brushing it over your right shoulder, making your position a bit more comfortable. 

The inside of the mall is air conditioned, a groan of relief leaving Matty’s lips as the cool air kisses his skin. You take a look around, eyes landing on a store down the giant hallway. Hollister. Matty turns to you and nods, booking it down the corridor in its direction. You hurry after him, his hand dragging you faster than you could keep up. 

“It’s fucking massive.” he breaths, stopping right infront of the entrance. Racks filled with piles upon piles of clothes makes the little shopping addict in Matty twirl, completely forgetting the amount of money he had left the house with. 

The two of you part ways, going into different sections and rifling through clothes, groaning when your eyes fall on the price tag. You see Matty coming towards you in the corner of your eye, holding something in his hands.

“You like?” he asks, holding a black, floor length floral skirt to his lower half, spinning around in a small circle. It flows around him, the multicolored flowers standing out against the jet black fabric nicely. 

“It's cute, it makes you look a bit taller.” you admire him, obviously giddy from finding something he really liked that didn't have a two digit price tag. And it's true, it did make him look taller.

“Not that I need it.” he states, gesturing at his body, standing at a totally average 5’11 (6’ in boots). You decide to tease him a bit, loving watching his grin disappear as you speak. 

“Oh you definitely do, you're like an oompa loompa who's managed to escape the chocolate factory.” his jaw drops in disbelief, almost looking genuinely offended.

“Fucking oompa loompa, maybe fix your contour before you come at me.” he shoots back, making a point to wipe at you face, some of the product coming off. 

Your hands go to cover your face and you rush to a mirror, absolutely mortified. Upon taking a look at your reflection, you realize he was taking the piss out of you, and that your makeup looked perfectly fine, apart from your eyeliner being a tad smudged. It looked good, nonetheless 

“I fucking hate you.” you spit at him, attempting to shove past him, his hands gripping your shoulders stopping you. 

“But you believed me, didnt you?” 

“Fuck off and die, I hope your scrote falls off.” you can't help but giggle at your own words, biting your lip between your teeth. 

“Awwee, but who would keep you happy and satisfied then? Can't make you cum without my precious little friend.” he winks, wrangling his eyebrows at you. You cringe, your nose scrunching up in disgust.  

“Don't ever refer to your dick as ‘precious little friend’ again, or I will leave you for George.” George would at least have the decency to not name his dick. 

“He’d be a shite shag.” Matty says, matter of factly, like it helped his case. Deciding to try and rile him up in retaliation, you twirl your hair around your fingers, speaking in a dreamy voice.  

“But look at the size of him, you know he’s packing at least twelve-” Matty cuts you off with a harsh kiss, both his hands cupping your cheeks. You let out a surprised noise, it getting swallowed up as he slips his tongue into your mouth, running it across your bottom lip. 

“I do not want to speculate on the size of my best mate's cock, thanks.” you nod, slightly breathless from the kiss, too dazed to debate him further. You go back to the rack of clothes behind you and Matty walks over to a display of skimpy going-out tops. 

“D'you like this on me?” you press a black and pink tube top to your chest, getting Matty’s attention. He takes his eyes over you, smirking as he notices the bottom of the shirt is completely sheer, only a black strip of fabric keeping you from flashing everyone. 

“It's hot. You should try it on, give me a preview.” his fingers touch the bottom of the top, running his fingers over the pink mesh. It looks tight, too tight for a bra seeing as it could cling to your body if you decided to wear it. 

“You’re such a boy.” you snigger, adding the top to your pile of yes’s. 

“Can you blame me?” his arm wraps around your waist, fingers hovering over the curve of your arse, giving it a quick squeeze. You smack his hands away, cursing at him for basically groping you in a Hollister. 

He smirks against your ear, attemüting to whisper into it before you shove him off, changing the subject by asking what he had decided to buy. 

Matty holds up the skirt from earlier, bragging about how it was “Only nine quid, can you believe that??”

The second item he had picked out was a thin, long sleeved top in none other than leopard print. You giggle at him as he proudly shows it off to you, boasting about how sexy and delicious he would look in it, deliberately having taken a size or two too small. 

You pay at the till, and Matty legs it to the changing stall, peeling off this shirt and putting on his new top, letting it ride up to show the low rise of his jeans. He actually looks quite good, even if he gives off ‘old hollywood hooker’ vibes with the top. 

His hand intertwined with yours as you walk into a children's store for shits and giggles, looking through the vast catalog of toys and fake makeup.

Your eyes land on a matching pair of kids friendship bracelets, one pink, one blue. Matty asks you what you have, and you show it to him, begging him to wear them with you

“Its cute!” you argue, trusting the cheap pieces of plastic into his hands.

“Its tacky, does not fit my vibe at all.'' He tries to deny you, but the look on your face is too endearing to say no.

“You are the embodiment of the word, look at what you're wearing!” you point at his top, bursting out into a fit of laughter when he pops out a hip, standing with one hand resting on his waist.  

“It's fashion.” 

“That's one word for it.” you snigger as he reluctantly pays the 1.99 the bracelets cost. He slips his on first, the pink a stark contrast to the otherwise sandy and dark colors of his outfit. The blue bracelet fits perfectly around your own wrist, half of a heart connecting with the half on Matty’s via a cheap magnet.

“Look at us, defying gender roles.” Matty smirks at you, admiring both of your pieces of jewelry.

“Fighting the patriarchy! You did pay for me though, so not completely feminist." His laughter makes a fuzzy feeling spread through the body, an intense feeling of adoration making your heart pound in your chest. Fucking idiot.   

The two of you wander around, stopping to window shop in a store you could dream of actually going in, knowing you’d be thrown out in under a minute. His eyes gleam as he sees a proper jewelry store, acting like a child on christmas morning as he flips through the piles of discount earrings at the back of the shop. 

“You don't even have pierced ears mate, how’re you gonna wear them?” you snap him out of his little adventure, reminding him of his inability to actually wear the hoops he so desperately wanted to buy. 

“I'll go get them pierced then, have Rome do it for me.” Rome was now working on opening an actual shop, finally graduating from piercing people on the beat up sofa in his living room.  

“There's a piercing parlor literally there, and it's like five quid.” you gesture to the neon sign next to the till, pointing to a back room labeled ‘Sasha’s piercings’, which was a really shit name if she wanted to attract actual customers. 

“Will you hold my hand?” he juts out his lip, pouting at you in a childish manner. Sasha, the only employee (surprise surprise), greets you with a warm smile, asking what you wanted to get done. Matty tells her he wants to get his ears pierced and coughs up the five quid, sitting down onto a red leather chair. It was when she pulled out a piercing gun that he started to look a bit nervous. 

“Fuck no, that is not touching my ear.” he squirms away from the lady, a confused look on her face. Matty was a grown man, after all, even if he did act like a behaviorally stunted 8-year old. 

“You're so pathetic it's actually quite sad.” you say, urging him to just get it over with, and that he was being a wanker making the employee wait. 

  “Usually I'd appreciate you calling me that, but genuine degradation isn't really my kink.” 

The piercer looks mortified, asking you if you needed a bit of time before the piercing, and you nod, watching her step to the side.  

“Its fucking gun.” he mutters under his breath, eyeing the device that set onto a steriel tray on the table next to where he was sitting

“A piercing gun.” 

“It has the word gun in it.'' Obviously normal, adult reasoning isn't cutting it, so you went with the next best thing.

“Do it and I'll give you a blowjob.” Matty’s eyes light up at your proposition, a filthy smirk spreading onto his face.

“Fucking sold, go on then.” you're surprised it actually worked, scoffing in disbelief. 

“Men are so simple.” 

“Says the one who let me finger her in the bathroom of a club.” he shoots back, watching the blush creep onto your face as that night flashes behind your eyes. The smell of that bathroom is ingrained into your mind, no amount of wishing letting it leave your memory. 

“Don’t fucking speak about that,” you huff, fucked off that he brought it up. It was genuinely embarrassing, the way you humped him on the dance floor and then dragged him off into a stall.  “We were both so off our tits, I died for about 72 hours after.” you shudder at the monster hangover that left you immobile for the days following, having to get Matty to bring you all three meals for a concerning period of time. 

“Sureee, just deny deny deny you loved it.” you finally call the poor girl over, hoping she didn't accidentally overhear your crude conversation. Matty whimpers slightly as she brings the gun to his ear, pressing down. Squeezing your hand so hard you were sure your blood flow was cut off, he winced before relaxing, realizing that he was, in fact, losing his mind over absolutely nothing.

The second ear takes a fraction of the amount of time the first ear did, Matty grinning like a maniac at the lack of pain apart from a small sting in his earlobe. You shake your head apologetically at the lady, knowing she was probably rethinking her place of employment. 

“And you call me dramatic.” you snigger as she puts in two silver hoops, matty blatantly ignoring her recommendation to start with studs, saying they looked boring. He admires his new accessory in a small hand held mirror, flicking the earring back and forth before answering you. “It did actually hurt! Of course, I took it like the legend I am.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips.

“Tosser, more like.” he smacks the side of your arm, laughing right along with you. 

You had spent almost the entire day there, running around stores, trying on piles of clothes just for the fun of it, feeling like teenagers in an American film. But even you had your limits, and your stomach started to growl as the sky began welcoming traces of night, the sun slowly setting over the horizon. 

Matty had spotted a chippy right across the road from the mall, draggin you there to get you something to eat. Both your wallets are almost empty, but you manage to find an old, crumple up fiver behind your expired school I.D. It was just enough to get one large portion of chips, the guy behind the counter generously adding a little extra when he noticed you’d be sharing it. 

Your hand clasps his as you trudge up a small hill off the side of the highway, hoping there would be a nice spot to sit down somewhere, away from all the noise. Matty’s inner compass somehow always knew where to go, his intuition sensing it or something. It was weird, but you’d learned to just follow him, knowing it your be worth it in the end 

And fuck, was it worth it this time. The hill slowly ended, the top of it nearing as you saw a pile of giant rocks, covered in graffiti. The sun was beautiful, hues of orange and purple painting the sky, clouds looking unreal in the light. He plopped down onto one of the rocks, facing west as you sat next to him, the box of chips on the ground between you. 

Matty feels around in his pockets and you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was doing. He grins as he pulls out a spliff from his jean pocket, presenting it proudly like it wasn't the most beat up joint you've ever seen in your life. Still, you were thankful, plucking it from between his fingers and lighting it for him.

“I think I might actually love you, mate.” you place the lit spliff between his lips, thanking his past self for remembering to bring weed, knowing you'll be craving it at the end of the day.

“Of course you do, and for the love of god, stop calling me mate. You’ve quite literally fucked me multiple times, maybe its time to drop it?” he huffs, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs. His expression changes when he hands it back to you, visibly more relaxed. 

“What else would I call you?” Matty scoffs at your question, listing weird, couple pet names off the top of his head.

“Baby, darling, the love of my life. Fucking anything that doesn’t make me feel like im talking to Ross.” 

you take a drag, listening to his little rant, nodding along as he rambles. You cough a bit when the smoke hits your lungs the wrong way, your eyes watering. 

“Fine, love it is.” you choose at random, only to make Matty stop ruining your high. Groaning, he pushes you, almost making you lose your balance on the rock you were sitting on. 

“Love of my life.” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Sure Matty, whatever shuts you up.”

“I know plenty of ways you can shut me up.” he coos, grinning wildly as his fingers trail up your bare arm. 

“God, I forgot you have the sex drive of a fucking bonobo.” you roll your eyes, putting on a display of faux annoyance. Matty giggles at your response, smacking his knee as his laughter grows louder.  

“I meant kiss me, but if you wanna-” oh god, he knew you would interpret it as something inherently sexual, especially if it came out of his mouth. You had fallen right into his little trap, his infectious laughter making it hard to even oretend to be fucked off at him. 

“Fuck off, giz a kiss.” you mutter, crashing your lips against his. His tongue licks into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Matty moans into the kiss, his hand gripping the base of your neck as you make out in the orange glow of the sunset, only pulling away to take drags of the spliff, even attempting to shotgun one. 

You fail miserably, too high to think straight, let alone get your mouths that close together without one of you kissing the other out of pure instinct. At some point, you move to the ground, laying flat on your back as the warm summer air kisses your skin. 

Matty’s shoulder is against yours, your fingers interlocked between your bodies. Neither of you speaks, silently admiring the stars that littered the night sky, glimmering against the darkness of it. Crickets chirp in the distance as the cars become less and less noticeable, a veil of calm draping over the two of you.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

broken (sonny corleone x reader) [request]

summary: “Fuck off.” Sonny waves his hand dismissively, his expression contorted in sheer contempt. “Ya always had champagne taste over a beer budget, sweetheart.”

warnings: angst, cheating (some tom hagen x reader implied just because), swearing (like, a lot), domestic/verbal abuse somewhat, mentions of murder (ya know...usual corleone stuff) and fluff-ish

words: 2.2k

notes: howdy! who asked for some angst??? gosh you guys dont know how much i love writing this type of stuff...please send more angst requests i beg you anyways hope you like it :D xx.

Silence.

It is all he can give you at this moment; after years of marriage, years of your devotion toward him. Unwavering. Unyielding. He had thrown it all away for a cheap settlement, two gladly open legs for the young lady who knew of his money and power. Forgotten immediately, there you stood, facing their unmade bed, smelling of sex and false promises you just knew Santino made her every night they spent together. Whilst you stayed home alone, surrounded by the coldness of tall walls and the crushing weight of his absence. You nearly let out a bitter chuckle, how stupid could you have been, right?

Oh, how they warned you. Everyone! Your friends, your parents, even your dear grandfather, despite the old man being deeply aware he was the one who would always benefit the most from the transaction that was your engagement to Sonny. Because that’s what it was, you had to face it now. Your love had been nothing but another heartless mafia deal to Santino, quite like the relationship your husband himself maintained with the poor girl in front of you, pathetically stumbling to get her clothes scattered on the floor as you eyed her motionless. There was not an ounce of animosity in your bones at this point. You simply did not have it in you to feel anything but pity at her state. Poor girl. Her reputation would be ruined, and for what? She was so young and helpless, almost like you had been once, albeit with the enormous difference that you would not have fucked a married man if he was made of gold. 

“What’s your name?” You order, though gently, still frozen in your spot watching her avoid your eyes at any cost.

“Maria”, she mumbles, adjusting her corset.

“Italian.” You reckon out loud, not really surprised. Having spent such a long time being scrutinised by every pure blood Sicilian who’s ever come into contact with the Corleone family somehow—as ironic as it may seem—prevented you from any type of disappointment at the notion of Santino silently damning you for your half breed background, too. So much so, he’d been searching for compensation elsewhere, on some random broad’s lap. But hey, she was Italian! “How long?” You manage to ask, your voice starting to strain. At the subtle hesitancy from her, you snap, your scream ripping through your throat before you can stop it, “how fucking long?!”

“One year”, comes the coy answer while the young woman shrinks in the corner of the room, her dark orbs filled with tears.

“One year.” You nod, finally letting out that incredulous laugh you had been holding back ever since you spotted the guards standing outside the apartment. That’s when you notice it. Her features weren’t so unfamiliar. Shaking your head softly, you murmur, “you’re the one who brought me the bouquet at my wedding, yes?”

She winces. “(y/n), I’m…”

“You’re a sad, sad excuse of a person.” You hiss, not allowing her to finish the false apology. That was confirmation enough. “I’m the one who feels sorry for you, because you’ll never have what I had, though I only had it for a few months.” Taking one step closer, you spit, looking down at her dishevelled self. “A family.”

You stormed off her bedroom without another word, only to find Santino leaning over the countertop of the kitchen, smoking a cigarette casually. His face spoke of some displeasure at the situation, albeit not nearly as much as you would have expected from him. He was known for making a spectacle out of everything, after all; but you guessed just not when it concerned his own ass. You took a deep breath and grabbed the purse you’d thrown at the brown sofa, spinning to give him one last glare. You had nothing to say to him, not really. Your suspicions about his cheating sprees at night had begun probably long before your husband would have decided to act on it. 

Tom helped you with following Sonny after the kids were asleep, staying with you in the car whilst you both waited for him to leave his—at the time alleged, because you could be fair—mistress’ building. And although the circumstances were less than appropriate or pleasant, you found yourself growing closer to your brother-in-law in the course of your private investigations. You now regretted not fucking Hagen just out of spite for the man staring back at you with disdain, yet your own morals would’ve never let you do such a thing, doesn’t matter if Santino had been sleeping with your own mother. You were not like him and no amount of hurt in the world could ever make you do something as cruel and as vile as this. You refused to sink to his level. 

“I’m taking the boys with me.” You blurt out, causing Sonny to raise his brows and snap out of his grumpy trance at last, lunging at you angrily. You flinch and hold up the pepper spray he’d bought you on another occasion, when you two had to visit a gritty part of town for his business. “Not another step or I’ll fucking blind you.”

“You’re not leaving me, ya hear?!” He growls, grabbing you by the shoulders, uncaring for your warnings. “They’re my kids too! You don’t have the right!”

“The law says differently.” Your tone remains controlled, contrasting with your trembling form under his touch. Your adrenaline must’ve been through the roof by now, and you were blinking rapidly to try and hold your angry tears inside your eyelids. “My grandfather made sure I would be protected in any case, especially if I wanted a divorce for adultery. Guess he was a visionary.” You scoff, hardening your jaw when Santino shrieks and pushes you against the wall. 

“That son of a bitch.” He hisses, pinning you with one arm over your neck. You struggle to breathe, coughing and fighting for air, but your husband’s not having it, pushing you even harder. “You’re not gonna do this to me, (y/n), or you’re fucking dead.”

“And so are you, or do you think my family will let you live?!” You shout, hoarsely, as you gasp for oxygen. He shoots daggers at you and then lets go begrudgingly, your body sliding down the flowery wallpaper while you regain your composure. “I’m sure you… don’t wanna leave the kids orphans either. From either side or both of them.” You finish, pulling the collar of your dress lightly to breathe better.

“You fucking whore.” He grunts, his hand going through his hair in a clear act of desperation. “You’re gonna pay for this.”

“I’m sure I will.” You sigh, your tone dry and full of resentment. Standing back up, you walk over to him, lowering your voice to a fairly vulnerable whisper, “I love you and you did this to me. Believe me, I wanna kill you too, but I have to think of my children first.”

You can swear you see a flicker of remorse passing through Santino’s orbs, but it is as feeble as it is ephemeral. “You wanna act all holy and mighty now, but ya know this was never real, doll. It’s all about money.”

“I always knew that’s all it was for you.” You nod, closing your eyes for a brief second. “I never fooled myself into believing you ever loved me like Vito or Carmela do.” You narrow your gaze faintly, wanting him to know this, as it is probably the last time you’ll speak with him directly. “I’m aware I was but a fun little adventure once, just like Maria is now, and then I became a chore. Something you had to come home to, boring, tiresome. ‘Naggy wifey’, ain’t that how you refer to me to your brothers?” You mock his thick New York accent, frowning deeper. Your talks with Tom often involved some gossip about how Sonny spoke of you behind your back, unknowing that his own brother disapproved of what he said. Well, you just felt like airing all the Corleone family’s dirty laundry tonight. It was as good a time as any.

“Ya been fucking Tom or something?” Santino snickers, however there’s no humour whatsoever in his demeanour. Only awkwardness and embarrassment, somewhat. Such a stark contrast to the man you came to love. He was never smaller in your eyes. 

“That’s what you deserve.” You turn your face away from him, holding your purse firmly against your chest. “But, no. He was the one who asked me about some jewellery you bought me, because the accountant needed to write it down. I’m not sure if he already knew and wanted me to know too or what, but I’m grateful for his character either way. Perks of not being a Corleone.” You snarl at the end, fully aware your words only served to sting his ego further. 

You were right. 

“You know what? That’s what I could never stand about you, your fucking arrogance.” 

“You really wanna pin this on me now, huh? C’mon, Santino, let it all out!” You raise your voice, clapping your hands dramatically. “Now it’s your time to tell me how you always felt so beneath me because you can’t read a fucking drug label without falling asleep or asking for Tom’s help, yet you still wanna be kingshit when Vito dies.”

“Shut the fuck up”, Sonny barks, pointing at your chest. “You wanna be so high and mighty when your parents practically sold you to me? Fuck off.” He waves his hand dismissively, his expression contorted in contempt. “Ya always had champagne taste over a beer budget, sweetheart. If it wasn’t for my family, that prick you call grandaddy woulda gone bankrupt.”

“You wanna act like you care about that now when all you ever wanted was to fuck me and get done with it, no matter the price you had to pay.” You shoot back even before he can close his mouth, crossing your arms defiantly. “And then you get caught cheating and wanna say it’s my fault, because what? I didn’t give you enough attention? You wanted me to baby you and tell you’re the smartest guy in the room when you’re a joke even to your own family?”

“Shut up.”

“Just think what Mikey is thinking of you now...”

“I said, shut the fuck up!” Santino grabs you by the shoulders again, pushing you to sit down on the couch. The noise is loud enough for Maria to burst out of the bedroom, fearful of what he might do. He tells her off with a deep growl and she cowers back inside, leaving you two alone. You try to get up only to be harshly pushed down by his body straddling yours, trapping you completely. You kick and scream under his assault, but Sonny takes your wrists aggressively with one hand, while his other holds your chin in place, squeezing your cheeks with all his force. “Look at me.” You have no choice but to oblige, hot tears streaming down your flushed features. “I’m sorry.” He says through gritted teeth, his own eyes glossy, his sharp inhales telling of the almost inhuman struggle to keep his emotions in check. “I’m sorry, ya hear me?! I fucking love you too.”

Your whole body shook violently, your soft sobs mixing in with his. You said nothing in response, what else could you say? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if it was just a matter of words on divorce papers, your signing and his to make it official and tangible? Yet it wasn’t. There were two sleeping little boys waiting for you both to come home, blissfully unaware of the fact their parents were pulling each other apart at the seams whilst a young girl cried silently in her secluded spot in the next room, drowning in her own remorse and regret. Right now there were mere broken pieces of whoever you three ever came to be one day, and some part of you—masochist, foolish, selfish—wanted to cling to Santino’s anguished confession of his love to you so badly, it hurt. Could it really be too late for him, for you, for your family together?

“Let’s go home.” You whimper after a moment, similar to a scared animal caught in the headlights. 

Sonny’s grip on your chin had long softened as he sobbed uncontrollably on your neck, soaking up your dress with warm tears. You snaked an arm around his waist and sighed, listening to his ragged breathing gradually calm down. Soon you were surrounded by quietness, just like you had been earlier when facing the two of them on that same brown sofa, half naked. The image remained branded into your brain, although less unfamiliar now than a few moments ago. You figured that’s what people meant when they said trust can never go back to its normal state once it’s broken. The cracks are always there, no matter the amount of glue you try to put on them or how unshakeable they may look after the repairs. 

Silence. 

“Yeah.” Santino coos, wiping his face sheepishly, unable to meet your desolate gaze. “Let’s go home.”

Silence.

[mayullla]

Hello! I love ur work, and was wondering if I could ask for dottore (?) with 🌹🍁 ??

if you can’t that’s ok =) take your time!

Note: I am gonna assume (?) means that I could pick if it is yandere or platonic yandere and reader? well either way hope you like it!

Title: Unfair Trade

Character(s): Il Dottore (Genshin Impact) Summary: You trapped yourself in your mind after you and the traveler had been lured into a trap made by Dottore. Why you were stuck in your own conscious Il Dottore and the Grand Sage talked about their little deal. Warnings/tags: Dendro archon!reader, fem!reader, yandere themes, possessive behavior, manipulation, power imbalance, 3.2 archon quest scenario, drabble, this is related to a really old brainrot I had before (here)

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

"Now that I have done my part of the deal, it is only fair that you, too, hold your end of the deal."

"Yes! Yes!!" Azar spoke in a hurried tone. There was greed in his voice of a hopeful future that he could not wait to come. The price was cheap for what it was. Something that he would gladly give.

"You may take the pitiful dendro archon. With our new archon who will rule Sumeru with wisdom and knowledge giving away that weak archon is but a far small price to pay. In fact, I feel as if this deal is not even fair." Azar spoke to the expelled scholar of the academia once he would have looked down on such a man now he spoke with respect. 

Yet he could not help but furrow his eyebrows. Why did this man even want you... "Considering how much you have helped us, we would gladly give you anything else you want?"

"An archon is still an archon while she is weaker compared to others. She is still an existence above many beings." Dottore smiled at the grand sage, appearing more satisfied with the trade than anything. "I do not need anything she alone is enough for me."

"Suit yourself. I must go now, I have another scheduled appointment that I must go to. I apologize. Stay for a while if you wish, and I will have someone bring in more tea if you want." No longer willing to push the subject matter. Azar stood up about to call someone to come in.

"There is no need to worry. I too also need to go soon. The Tsaritsa had called me, and I must prepare to leave for Snezhnaya soon." Waving his hand, he let the Grand Sage leave as he too left the room, heading higher and higher up the stairs of the building.

"If only our own archon was wise in wisdom and knowledge, would we never have to resort to this."

"Trust me, I know your sufferings. I only provided you a way the rest you have worked hard for the benefit of Sumeru." Dottore could only laugh at such useless talks, both knowing well they have their own goals and motivations, yet spewing lies and deceit.

Reaching the place only the higher-ups could enter.

Dottore looked at the person with the orb, sleeping soundly as if, once upon a time, a few days ago, she wasn't trying to rebel with the traveler to rescue her land.

"I still remember the emotions in your eyes when you saw me. Standing in front of the academia with the traveler, it was only proper to cheer for the hero and their own archon." Il Dottore smiled when he got a clear glimpse of your peaceful sleeping face nothing like the face you gave him when you found out and realized what he has done to your people. "Your expression that time is still something I relished every time I remember it."

"How unfortunate." There was a small movement on his lips that looked like a frown of displeasure and dissatisfaction but quickly curled into a smile again. "I was so close to having you back then, yet you soon left as soon as you realized that the traveler was far away and safe. It was a shame back then, but I wouldn't put it past you to do something like that. And even now, you have avoided most of my trap with something like this.”

"It is quite disappointing, I must say. But no matter, it was all pure entertainment. After all, no matter where your contious was, your body was always here in this little orb."

He circled around your orb. His mask looked in your direction. The sounds of his shoes tapping the floor echoed within the quiet wide place where it is just you and him.

"Would you push me away again after Sumeru had abandoned you like this?" Dottore asked mockingly, "The sages were so thrilled by this chance of a fake god that they were so quick to make a deal that once they have their man-made god they will give you as payment."

"All the Tsaritsa wants is the dendro gnosis. She doesn't care much for how we attain it, so I am sure she would let me keep you from myself. After all, I have already done many things for our Tsaritsa's sake." Stopping his body turned towards you as he raised his hands a little as if showing you something that he was proud of. He knew that he was talking to deaf ears and that you couldn't even hear him. But that didn't stop him. He had you, and now you belonged to him.

"It is, after all, only a matter of time dear. We shall see how long you can hide in this darkness that you have created, this barrier to keep me out. I will slowly take away those walls that guard your consciousness." His grin could not go down no matter what as he looked at you curled up in a ball within the orb.

"Those sages are foolish to give you away from a man-made archon. But that doesn't matter in the end so long as you are mine. It is only a matter of time, dendro archon. Soon, your consciousness will be mine, and I will make sure that it will be locked away from the world with only myself in your thoughts."

[thevelria]

Can I hold it for you? (SFW/flirty!Gojo x fem!reader)

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Thank you for my sweet @ladycheesington for helping me and proofreading it. I'm so grateful! <3

Warnings:mention of car crash and death

It's pure fluff otherwise. Gojo being a sweet little pie^^

Wordcount:1503

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold wind brushed your cheeks like a sharp blade while you walked on the street. And you were more than happy when you finally spotted your favorite coffee house. It was late in the evening or we should say it was night rather than  evening anymore. 

The city looked beautiful, there was no need to lie. But what’s a pleasure to the eyes is a torment to the body. You pulled the collar of your beige coat higher up and buried your face into your fluffy scarf. Without hesitation you stepped in and felt grateful that you found a place which was open non-stop.  

“Hey!” you smiled at the girl behind the bar “I’d like a matcha latte, please.” The sudden temperature change sent shivers down your spine. 

“Sure. I’ll bring it to your table right away.” she nodded lovely. 

You chose to sit down at a table next to the window. You completely zoned out as you were watching the city through the glass. Seeing all those people rush to somewhere made you shake your head. There was a time you loved every minute of this life but now it felt more like a burden. Since your husband passed away years ago nothing felt the same. You weren’t able to smile or laugh honestly. As you bit your inner cheek your eyes wandered to your reflection. That was the moment you noticed a tall man with snow white hair standing next to your table. 

“Can I help you?” you turned to him immediately.

“Uhm…can I have a seat?” His raspy voice was a pleasure to the ears. 

“I don’t want to be rude but…” you took a tiny break “there are plenty of free tables. Why don’t you choose from one of those? I had a long, hard day. I want to enjoy my latte in silence.”

The man nodded and sat down at another table, the nearest one to yours and picked the seat which let him sit right in front of you. 

“Unbelievable…” you shook your head, smiling.

“I’m sitting at a completely free table.” he giggled. “It’s not my fault that you are right in front of me.” he opened the drink menu. 

You didn’t say a thing but turned your face back to the window and watched the city once again. From time to time your eyes wandered at the man. He was wearing a white knitted pullover with a turtleneck and black pants. His snow white hair seemed so silky and shiny. But his eyes…oh my God those eyes. Pierce, ocean blue eyes which could look right into your soul. 

“Your latte, miss.” the waitress placed your drink carefully in front of you.

“Oh, thank you very much!” you smiled and took a sip right away.

“What can I get for you?” she walked up to the handsome man.

“Uhm, I’d like to get what the lady chose.” he winked at you. 

“I’ll be right back.” she spun on her heels.

“I hope you ordered something tasty” he clicked his tongue teasingly “I don’t want to be disappointed.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” you rolled your eyes “Do you want to sit here?” you pulled an annoyed face.

“I thought you wanted to sit alone.” he raised one of his eyebrows.

“Yes, correct! I would love to but you keep talking to me across the tables which is embarrassing. So just come here and let’s get it over with.” 

“Over with what?” he took a seat at your table in an instant.

“What do you want from me?” 

“To talk.” he shrugged. “You have a pretty face and I assumed you must be a sweet person. Maybe I made a mistake.” he poked his inner cheek with his tongue.

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened immediately.

“Just kidding.” he laughed out loud. “I’m sure you’re a cute girl” he took a deep breath “but you hide it well enough.” he exhaled while chuckling. 

Even if you tried you couldn’t hold back the laughter either. He was right, you were a complete douche with him, yet he didn’t want anything but to talk. 

“I’m sorry.” you offered your hand for a shake, still laughing “I’m Y/N L/N.”

“Gojo Satoru.” He took your hand and held it just a little bit longer than necessary. As he rubbed your finger he noticed the wedding ring. “Married?” he asked.

“Used to be.” 

“I’m sorry you got divorced.” 

“I didn’t…” you fidgeted the ring “I lost him in a car crash many many years ago.” 

“Oh my…I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” you nodded slightly.

The heavy silence was broken by the cheerful waitress who danced to your table with a tray.

“Let’s see what kind of taste you have, Y/N.” he took a sip from the drink.

“Well?” you asked like you cared. But to be fair you didn’t…at all. 

“Hmm nice, very nice.” he hummed.

“Well, it’s late. It’s time for me to leave.” you grabbed your wallet and were about to call the waitress. 

“It was on me.” Gojo put his hand on yours. 

“No need to.” you pulled an awkward smile.

“I insist. Please.”

“Thank you. It’s very sweet of you.”

“I don’t do it out of selflessness.” he smirked.

“What?” you looked at him suspiciously.

“I do it because in this case you will need to meet me again. Otherwise you’d feel like you were in my debt.” he giggled.

You kept laughing as you stood up and grabbed your coat. 

“So maybe tomorrow?” Gojo bit his lower lip.

“We’ll see.” you smiled as you walked away.

***

“May I ask you to give this note to the lady who I had a drink with last night at that table?” Gojo pointed in the direction of the window.

“Sure.” the girl nodded. Even though hundreds of people walked in yesterday she remembered Gojo vividly. But who wouldn’t remember a man like him? 

“Oh and I’m gonna pay for her matcha.” he took out his credit card from his wallet. 

The poor girl blushed from head to toe as Gojo smiled smoothly. He knew exactly how charming women found him but he didn’t care. His only goal was getting close to you. You got his attention so he decided to make you his no matter what. And if Gojo Satoru wanted something he always found a way to get it. 

***

You had so many things to do that you weren’t able to show up in the coffee house the next day. To be honest you completely forgot about it. It’s been a rush day with a lot of work crises, so you were glad the day finally came to an end. 

The next morning, though, you decided to grab some of your favorite drink before heading to work. 

“Morning!” you smiled at the girl who seemed so tired. 

“Oh, good morning!” she chirped “The usual matcha, right? I’ll bring it right away. Please take a seat.”

You nodded slightly while trying to find an empty table. Searching in your bag you finally found your book and started to read until she arrived with your drink. 

“Here.” she placed it carefully at the table with a piece of paper alongside. 

“What’s this?” you frowned.

“Oh, it’s a message the tall, white haired man left you yesterday. He asked me to give it to you when you next appear. He also paid for your drink already.” 

“Satoru…” you whispered as you unfolded the tiny piece of paper.

“Now you owe me two matcha. I’ll wait for you at 7 at our table.”

Before you left you walked up to the counter. “Can I ask you a favor? Could you please reserve that table over there at 7 o’clock?” you pointed at the table by the window.

***

 Gojo was already waiting for you when you arrived.

“You were early.” you teased.

“I wasn’t sure you would show up.” he stood up and pulled the chair for you to take a seat.

“I was waiting for hours yesterday.” he clicked his tongue.

“Sorry.”

Words followed words and you didn’t even realize how much you enjoyed yourself. He made several bad jokes but you laughed anyway. The way he non stop flirted with you made you blush. Gojo didn’t hide his intention for even a second. 

After hours of talking he took a deep breath. “Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.” you agreed without hesitation.

The cold air wasn’t a pleasant feeling on your skin but you tried to focus on the fact that the man next to you was a total cuteness. 

As you were walking in a nearby park he bit his bottom lip before shooting his perfect pick up line without even looking at you.

“Your hand looks so lonely. Can I hold it for you?”

A loud laughter bursted out of you, an honest and happy laugh that you didn’t experience for a long long time. 

“Please, do.” you kept giggling as you let him take your hand. 

[strayheartless]

Happy Father’s Day, to the Dad of floor 49:

Angeals men thought they were funny.

He knew that for certain, simply because of the sheer about of ‘#1 Dad’ mugs and cards sat on his desk when he came in this morning. Genesis as per usual denied knowing who orchestrated such a “demonstration of pure comic genius”; while Sephiroth proceeded to pick all the toffee twists out of each gift basket.

“You do not like these correct?” He said, letting the tiniest bit of childish hope into his eyes. “You usually say I can have them…”

Angeal huffed, smiling tiredly at him. “Have at it bud,” he gestures to the gift baskets and Chuckled slightly as Sephiroth descends upon the sweets.

Where the hell is he going to put all this? He still has a mountain of flavoured tea from last Father’s Day.

It irritates him a little that they do this every year. He was twenty five, he wasn’t old enough to be any of their fathers and it grates on him that they took the joke this far every year. His own father deserved all of this, not him. That had been a man who deserved celebrating. That had been a true father.

A knock at the door pulled him from his brooding and he didn’t need to look to know it was Zack. He’d been training the boy for a few months now, and he had a very distinct rhythm about his person. Enough for Angeal to know his excited breathing from twenty paces.

“Hi ‘Geal… I er, got you something. The guys said it was kind of tradition,” said the third class slightly nervous.

Angeal sighed. “It’s a stupid joke Zack, you shouldn’t have wasted your money on it.” He watched as Zack made a face and turned ever so slightly red.

“O-oh, well it’s just a… ahem. It’s just a card.” He hands it over gingerly and looks a little shame faced as Angeal sighed again more heavily and took the card with more aggression than was perhaps warranted.

As he opened it Zack busied himself with openly staring at Sephiroth who was consuming three toffee twists at once.

“Er good morning General Sephiroth sir. Er… are those toffee twists?” He asked awkwardly.

“Angeal does not like them,” was all he got in return and Zack looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or flee.

Angeal meanwhile was feeling flawed by Zacks card. It wasn’t anything special; just a normal blue Father’s Day card with yellow writing. Inside it had the same pre-printed pleasantries, but Zack had written a little paragraph inside it.

“Angeal,” it said.

“I didn’t really know what to write here, but the boys said it was tradition so I’ll do my best.

Your not my dad. I have one of those and although I’m trying really hard not to think about how disappointed in me he’d be right now, he’s still a pretty great dad and I don’t really need a replacement. But you are my mentor, and that’s an important person too. You’ve had a lot of faith in me since I joined the SOLDIER programme and although I’m sure you’ve questioned how serious I am a couple of times, you’ve never not backed my corner and I appreciate everything you do for me.

I just wanted you to know that I guess. Your not my Dad, but I like to think that your like the older brother I never had, is that weird? Doesn’t matter.

You’re awesome,

Zack.”

Angeal turned to look at the raven haired boy. This scruffy little fifteen year old who drove him up the wall on a daily basis. This stupid and wonderful kid who’d actually given him something he didn’t know he needed today.

“Thank you Zack,” he said pulling the kid into a hug. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”