#and then you feel guilty and ashamed when it doesn’t work out because nothing ever works out for you

[tekka-dan]

Hello,

I realize that I haven’t really been “here” for roughly an entire year now. My last “me” post was right before coming into 2024.

In light of the recent election as of 2024–I was starkly reminded of my descent into madness, anger, bitterness and concern from the year 2016. I was still living at home with my parents, single and no kids. I thought the world as I knew it was coming to an end and I thought everyone I knew who voted for Trump weee backstabbing, bold faced liars; most of these people were my friends and it was disheartening to believe that if they supported someone like him but were playing cool to my face, who could I trust and believe in after all?

I disappeared from then and I found solace in the Naruto fandom, the only place I was able to quell my anger and hurt from the world and reality I was apart of. I will never take for granted the people I met during this time, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it for eternity: they saved my life.

Fast forward to 2024 and I am still single and living alone but this time it’s been 3 years since moving out and life is less hectic and different…but it’s better.

Most people don’t know that I entered into a relationship in August 2023 that was rushed and misaligned with everything I wanted and valued but I became desperate for partnership, acceptance and value. So I settled with someone who went on to teach me great lessons, mainly that you shouldn’t rush connections for anyone or any reason. I finally departed from that relationship as of September 2024 and slowly my world has come back into full bloom again, I’m not seeing everything in gray scale or feeling like an outsider looking in. I’m apart of my own life. I became my own main character.

That said, I also have been stable with my career for over a year now and this has allowed me to have fun money and take vacations! I recently visited Washington DC on a whim and I just so happened to be there before and after the US Election of 2024. Despite the bustling of the world on tv news and social medias; the home of where the President resides is actually fairly quaint and quiet. Many people didn’t voice their concerns or opinions about the election, many of them seemed to understand that this is just how the world works and we will have to fall in line. All that being said, I learned plenty about myself while on this trip and about life in general.

Having emotional intelligence will always save your life. No matter what situations you face or endure, even overcome, staying sharp and remaining emotionally adept is key. Nobody stormed the White House nor the Capital. People just slung their briefcases from one shoulder to the next and stood in line for the next approaching metro.

Life really does go on.

I wanted to share some pictures I had taken while on my 4 day vacation. I like these the most because the rest are pictures of the museums I went to, lol. However these are the only pictures I’ve taken of myself since January 2024.

Being in that rotten relationship really took so much out of me, it took away my light and my enthusiasm for the world and everything around me. I wasn’t taking pictures of myself or anyone else; I was just existing from one day to the next.

To see these photos and my sheer happiness and I can actively say I AM happy with my life and the way it’s going currently—feels like a milestone I actually want to commemorate, so I’m sharing them.

As this year comes to an end, please stay safe and golden. The election was sorely disappointing for a country as a whole but nonetheless we will persevere. We always have. Thanks for reading!

[starkeyisthelastname]

Okay buuut… not to be angsty about it but do pornstar!Rafe or reader ever have a moment where they’re just like “I can’t do this anymore” and they like try to not see each other but obviously that doesn’t work out… or probably last very long… I could see Rafe being emo about it and not being able to get it up for a scene and just walking off directly to your house all like “seriously what the fuck have you done to me!?”

okay so like I see this happening after their little talk, but Rafe is the one who says he can’t do it. 😭

Everything seemed good, the two of you even fucked again after smoking and talking briefly. The both of you left that the night with even stronger feelings which meant Rafe almost needed to step back for a minute. To you, it came out of nowhere and you felt rejected after reading the text he sent a few days after when you asked if he wanted to come over that night. ‘I need to focus on work rn. Agent told me I’m losing fans. Can’t do this anymore.”

It was clear Rafe was scared of something, and wasn’t going to tell you what it was. At least not right now anyway. As soon as you felt rejection, you became closed off. You didn’t even bother replying to his text, wiping the tears away over the fact you would probably be nothing more than a past fling to him. You wanted to hate yourself for falling for a guy, whose only focus was pussy and money.

For the first time when it came to a woman’s feelings, Rafe was feeling very guilty. He continued on with his week the best he could, trying to act like it didn’t bother him that he had called things off. After you left that night, he sat in his thoughts, thinking about if he really wanted to end his career for one girl he didn’t know much about. He knew the answer. He wanted you. Instead he came up with every excuse on why he should continue working, and before he could stop himself, he was sending you that message.

It was the next week when he showed up to set, pissed off at himself really, but taking it out on everyone else. You hadn’t texted him at all and he hadn’t tried to text back because a part of him felt like he had already fucked it up. He was affected by this more than he should be and for the first time, he didn’t want to film at all, not even try and fake it. As he stood trying to get himself hard, getting ready to shoot, he just couldn’t do it, which only pissed him off more. He knew he couldn’t continue his day like this without seeing you again.

You nearly cut yourself with the knife you had been using to chop vegetables when you heard the pounding on the door. You frowned, wiping your hands and quickly going to answer the door. You didn’t get two words in, before Rafe stormed in, wrapping a hand around your throat. “What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?” He asked, blue eyes dark.

“R-Rafe what the fuck you doing?” You asked, gasping for breath. You hadn’t spoken to him since you left his house a week ago, and hadn’t ever responded to his dick of a text. You couldn’t deny that you had missed his touch, even if it had only been a week, it still felt longer than that. You craved this man, no matter how much you disliked him right now.

Within a second, he was turning you around so that his front was pressed directly against your back. “Can’t even fuckin work, because you and this perfect cunt are on my mind 24/7.” He spat in your ear. Your head spun as he continued to squeeze your throat, his other hand lifting up the little dress you had on. He chuckled to himself as he noticed your lack of panties, making it all the more easier to slam himself into you, after quickly undoing his pants. His dick was now harder than ever, stretching you open for the first time in over a week.

“R-Rafe!” You cried, only to get three thick digits shoved in your mouth.

Rafe was ashamed of himself for even considering turning you away, he didn’t even want to look at you right now, wondering why you had to be so goddamn perfect and why he had to feel this way about some girl he didn’t even know. “Shut up. Don’t wanna hear shit from you now. Just take this fuckin dick like a good whore.” His tone low, dripping like venom in your ear, while you gagged on his hand. He fucked you like he hated you, but the truth was he couldn’t get enough of you. He had found his new addiction.

[saminsecret]

How the slashers would react to a male S/O part 3

I really like these :)

TW for homophobia and slurs

Characters include the Sinclair brothers (House of Wax)

Bo Sinclair

He refuses to believe it at first. Him? A queer? Nope. Refuses to even look at you because of how angry he is at both you and himself for being attracted to you. Calls you all kinds of names to deflect his feelings. If either one of his brothers try to talk to him about his feelings for you? They get cursed out, shoved around, spat at— “I ain’t no fucking fag!”

He doesn’t know how to flirt with you. How on earth does he flirt with a guy? Can he call you pretty? He doesn’t know how to approach you when it comes to flirting, so he ends up just trying to do it the same way he always does with women. Hopefully it works on you (it does).

He abandons his porn wall. He still likes women, but ever since you came into his life he’s found himself less interested in the pretty girls that come waltzing into town. He doesn’t get rid of the wall, and uses it to scare/torture his victims, but you start to notice that he’s not adding to it anymore. Not that you mind!

Still a bit homophobic. Whenever you two get in a fight, he throws all kinds of homophobic insults at you to get under your skin. He can fly off the handle pretty quickly and sometimes doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until later. He feels guilty, but can’t outright apologize to you because of his ego. But he will come up to you later, hugging and kissing on you and nuzzling his face into yours. He didn’t really mean it, Y/N. He just has anger issues.

Vincent Sinclair

Insanely ashamed of it. The moment he realizes he likes you, there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he can’t push away. Will become even more of a recluse than he already was. Every time you manage to catch him out of the basement and try to talk to him, he is quickly scurrying back to safety. He can’t like you, Y/N. He just can’t.

Obsessively draws you. Despite his shame, he cannot stop thinking about you. It’s almost a compulsion with how much of his work space is filled with sketches or little wax figures of you. He tries to hide it, but eventually Bo finds out about his little art projects and gives him hell. “I knew you were nothing but a disgusting fucking queer!” Bo’s bullying only makes him distance himself from you further—Bo’s right, isn’t he?

Eventually Bo helps him out. He’s an asshole, but after a while he realizes that Vincent’s feelings for you are deeper than a stupid crush. He’s still bullying Vincent, no doubt, but he’s also forcing him to be around you more—either by making you take things down to him or making Vincent accompany you when dealing with tourists. His brother may be a fag, but it’s not the end of the world if he lets Vincent have this one thing. Bo can even use you as another thing to dangle over Vincent’s head to make him do whatever he wants him to.

Vincent won’t let you leave his side. You almost feel like a pet, tied to an invisible leash that Vincent holds with a tight grip. You are everything to him, Y/N. His muse, his boyfriend, his light, his world. He refuses to let you go now that you’re here. Won’t even let you help out with the tourists anymore as he’s worried something bad will happen to you. Most of your time is spent down with Vincent, making art or just cuddling with him. He loves to pose you and sketch you. You are so handsome, Y/N!

Lester Sinclair

Very confused! He might not even realize that he’s into you for a while—he really just never thought he’d be into a guy!

Doesn’t let Bo get to him. He really likes you and even though you’re a guy he still thinks you’re perfect! Bo will be relentless, just like he was with Vincent, but Lester just lets the comments roll off his back; Bo could only dream of being this lucky!

Really awkward. He is not good at flirting in general, but flirting with you? Everything feels backhanded. Even worse. “You’re so pretty for a guy, Y/N!” He’s constantly trying to ‘playfully’ tease you or push you but you just think he’s being mean. You don’t even realize he’s flirting with you. He gets a bit flustered after a while, and may even go to Bo for help. Bo doesn’t tell him anything that’s worth listening to.

Even more awkward. Once you guys start dating, he doesn’t really know how to go about it. How do two guys kiss? Is it just like kissing a girl? He really loves you Y/N but every time you go in for a kiss or hug or any type of contact he’s questioning if he’s doing it right. Eventually though, you show him that it’s all the same (but even better because it’s you!)

Will get so mad at homophobic tourists. You give Lester a peck on the cheek and one of the tourists y’all just helped makes a snide remark and it’s got Lester scoffing in surprise. Seriously? Will absolutely drop the polite act and may even complain to Bo or Vincent. Or, depending on how rude they were, he might even sick Jonesy on them…Either way he will not be sorry for what happens next to them. Those assholes definitely deserved it!

Jonesy loves you! Which makes Lester love you even more! Which makes Jonesy love you even more! The cycle of love continues. You are one lucky bastard, Y/N.

[freedomfireflies]

okok so idk it’s nothing special really but i don’t think i’ve ever actually read something like that and i've been sort of searching for it for some time because i personally struggle with it and well, it’s annoying 👼 but anyway, my request is a one shot or even just a shorter blurb, whatever you feel okay with where H and the reader get into a fight for the first time really, they were always solving their problems by communication and always managed to not get into proper fights. but well it can’t last forever, right? so they get into actually heated fight and harry properly raises his voice at her and there the whole thing is, Y/N is sort of hypersensitive and whenever someone screams at her or even just scolds her, she cries and she can’t stop it nor control it, thinks it’s pathetic and is always ashamed or crying like a baby and not being able to scream back or remain calm. so she tears up and she’s telling him to ignore it and starts apologizing for acting like that and he sort of doesn’t know what to do because he’s really worked up and doesn’t think straight but he also feels extremely guilty. so maybe he like tries to go away and escape this but shortly comes back to comfort her or something like that? i dunno if it’s something you’d be up to writing, it’s totally fine if you don’t feel like it but yup, there goes my a bit of an angsty request!

“You are so fucking ridiculous. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Rightfully curious? Justly upset?”

“No…hysterical.”

You rear back, lashes fluttering as you stare at the aggravated British man across from you. “Wow. That’s what I am, huh? Hysterical?”

“Yes,” he says simply, unphased by the line he just crossed. “Yes, you’re being hysterical. And I can’t talk to a hysterical woman.”

You can feel the pressure against your chest as your throat begins to burn from the tears you know are coming. 

But you straighten your shoulders and feign indifference. “Maybe I wouldn’t be so hysterical if you would just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he seethes for a second time. “We had lunch. That was it.”

“And I said that’s fine, but you didn’t have to lie about it—”

“I didn’t fucking lie, I—” His hands find his hair, fingers yanking at the roots as his teeth grit together. “For fuck’s sake. I don’t need to explain my choices to you—”

“Oh, yes you fucking do,” you argue, taking a step closer. “If you want to be in this relationship, you need to communicate with me—”

“I did fucking communicate. I told you I was going to lunch—”

“With Alex. You did not mention Samantha—”

“So fucking what? What does it matter if she was there?”

Your jaw just about drops. “It matters because she was a huge part of your past, and having lunch with her makes me think—”

“Makes you think what, huh?” he suddenly bellows as he moves closer to you as well. “What? That I was gonna fuck her right there on the table?”

There’s a fire in his eyes you’ve never seen before. A rage in his voice, in his stance, in his expression that you’re unfamiliar with.

This Harry…is not your Harry.

Your Harry would calmly explain the miscommunication and then ask if you wanted to bake some brownies together. 

This Harry looks like he wants to walk out of your life.

And into hers.

“You think I went there to cheat on you?” he continues, taking another step. And with each additional step, his volume rises. “Think I went there to beg her to take me back? To embarrass you? To throw all the progress you and I have made away?”

“Har…” you murmur, hands raising as if to tame him. 

Or perhaps to keep him away.

He doesn’t notice. Nor does he notice the subtle shake in your request as he continues stalking toward you. 

“Is that what you’re so fucking afraid of? You don’t trust me?” he just about shouts. “What? I need to be more communicative, but you don’t have to fucking trust me? What kind of fucking relationship is that—”

You don’t know how it happened. Don’t know when the tears that had been crawling up your throat slipped from your eyes and began pouring down your cheeks. You don’t know why you’ve suddenly been reduced to a puddle of quivering breaths and anxious glances but suddenly, that’s all you know.

Harry slows to a stop, focus flicking across your face as if assessing you. “What…what’s happening—”

You swallow a hiccup and quickly wave your hand through the air, as if to dismiss his comment. “Nothing. Nothing, sorry—fuck. Sorry, I’m fine, I’m—”

“Why are you…crying?” he asks, lowering his voice back to his normal register as takes one more step.

You roll your eyes, annoyed with yourself as you swipe your knuckles across your wet cheeks and huff, “I just…I cry when I’m…listen, I’m fine. I just…I know you didn’t go there to…cheat, I just—”

“Your hands are shaking,” he interrupts, rather matter-of-factly, his eyes downcast toward your arms.

You glance down as well. “Yeah, that…happens. Look, I didn’t mean to make you mad—”

“Why are your hands shaking?”

You swallow again. “’Cause…I don’t do well. With confrontation.”

He looks back up. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. Childhood trauma, I guess. I just…I cry,” you admit, rather sheepishly as you once again try to dry the tears still dancing down your chin. “But I’m fine. Sorry. I wasn’t…I know I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Did I make you cry?” he asks now, eyebrows raised.

Again, you wave him away. “No. No, not…not you. I just…when people yell at me, I—”

“Was I yelling at you?” 

Your expression softens at the absolute confusion on his face. “I mean…I don’t think you meant to, but…you did get pretty loud.”

He leans back, almost as if you’d slapped him. “Firefly, I didn’t…I didn’t realize. I…I just…I don’t know…”

“I know,” you offer gently, attempting to reach for him but he’s quick to pull himself back, terrified to have you close. “Har. Don’t do that, it’s fine—”

“I yelled at you,” he mumbles, like he can’t believe it. “I don’t…we don’t yell.”

“I know, but you were…you were angry—”

“Are you defending me?” he interrupts, seemingly aghast. “Firefly, I fucking yelled at you. I scared you, I made you cry. That’s not something to defend—”

“I always cry,” you retort, smiling to lighten the mood but are instead met with a frown. “Harry, it’s fine. Look…I shouldn’t have gotten so upset about the lunch, I just…look people talk. Twitter talks, I thought…they seemed pretty sure it was a different kind of lunch, so…I assumed. And I’m sorry.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes flicking between yours before he sighs and takes a hesitant step forward.

He takes your face between his hands and swipes his thumbs through the tears. “Believe me, you have nothing…to worry about. Samantha was and still is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met. I was supposed to meet Alex. But he fucking set up the lunch with her because she asked him to.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now feeling a tad guilty. “Damn, yeah. She is a bitch.”

“Yeah. I mean, more power to her but…like a text would have sufficed, you know? I can just as easily tell her to fuck off over the phone.”

You smirk. “I do trust you. I promise I do. I shouldn’t have assumed, I just…I would hate losing you.”

“God, Firefly, you would never,” he breathes, dipping down to press his forehead to yours as his eyes flutter shut. “Never fucking lose me. It would kill me if you left. You are it for me, do you understand? You are it. I’m never fucking letting you go. I’d lock you in my basement before I let you go.”

You laugh and playfully swat at his chest. “Ha. Ha.”

He smiles and leans back to see you once more. “Please believe me. She means nothing to me. Hell, even Alex means nothing to me now. Just you. Only you. Always.”

You take hold of his wrists and squeeze, heart bursting with adoration for the beautiful man before you. “I believe you.”

“And I promise never…to raise my voice at you again.”

“Hey, listen…I don’t mind a good yelling match as long as I get a few hits in.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

He grins and surges forward to kiss you.

Hard.

“Good. Now…let’s go make some brownies.”

Thank you so much for the request, I hope it could somewhat fulfill your expectations! It was so fun to write, I’m so grateful you sent it 😭💞

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[i-cant-sing]

Would you ever consider doing platonic yanderes where the reader is the characters mom? Reader is married to the dad and the whole family is yandere?

(Example; Reader is married to Enji (a romantic yandere) and the kids are platonic yanderes to their mom (reader), either Rei doesn’t exist or Reader is their stepmom)

Or reader finding the LOV when they were kids and just adopting them herself instead of them going down the villain path and they become platonic yanderes for the mother that wanted and loved them? (I’m a sucker for platonic yanderes)

-💗

Been there, done that. Have u read Yandere overhaul as a president au???? Its literally that, with Overhaul being yandere for his fake wife reader so that he could gain popularity and become president, and then they have triplets- Dabi, Himiko and Tomura, all of who are yanderes for their mommy. And I take it a step further by making the entire world yandere for reader.

I have thought about another au where reader, just barely entering into adulthood, suddenly has to adopt Dabi (she took him in after he ran away from home and found him sleeping in an alley). She worked very hard to bond with Dabi, and after a few months, he finally began opening up to her affection (he let's her cuddle him, and kiss his forehead before tucking him in her bed while she takes the couch because she knows Dabi has still has some issues with physical touch). Despite having little to no savings, she puts him in school (the same place where she works part time as a janitor. Though she hides herself when he's with his classmates because she doesn't want him to feel ashamed- not that he ever would). There's been one to many times when reader didn't know where the next meal would come from, but she made sure Dabi never went to sleep hungry (she would work as a server at parties and would sneak some of the food into her bag for him). Reader fell sick quite a few times because of how overworked she was, but she never had the money to get herself some medicine. However, she always found a way to get Dabi the very expensive ointment for his burns and scars. She always wore used clothes and sewed them with patches wherever they were torn, and she'd outgrown her shoes 2 years ago, but she made sure that Dabi was always well dressed, and he always got brand new clothes (she never wanted him to feel inferior to his peers. She knows how mean kids could be.) And somehow, even with multiple jobs, she made sure to be there for him on all important days, celebrated all his achievements no matter how small, and even when Dabi grows up, he can't wrap his head around why you would do all of that? How could one be so selfless, especially to a stranger she knew nothing about?

In fact, there was even a time when Dabi ran away from your house, feeling guilty for what you'd been putting yourself through for him and how he had hurt your feelings after a stupid argument. He was in shock when he saw you running around the city looking for him, tears in your eyes as you asked people to help you find "my son!" And when you finally found him, the first thing that came out of your mouth was,

"Are you okay?"

Not anger, Not rage for worrying you- but genuine concern for his well being. Dabi all but ran into your arms and broke down, sobbing into your chest and he never had to say it out loud for you to understand how sorry he was.

From there on, you two had a good relationship. I could see that perhaps reader finds a stable job as a barista at a cafe, and a part time tutor (because she is well educated), and perhaps she had been hired by Tomura's parents to teach him and his sister, and you were the best teacher they had. Then one day, Tomura accidentally murdered his family and you only found him because you were on your way to tutor him. The trauma in his eyes, in his face- it was all enough for you to understand that he didn't want this to happen. So, you reach for him, but be he jumps back, claiming that he'd kill you. You don't know what happened, but you talked to him, calmed him down, and when you finally reached for him, he didn't pull back. And when you didn't turn into a pile of ashes (maybe because of a hidden quirk, maybe because you had calmed him down), he all but jumped into your arms, wanting all the warmth and comfort you could provide. You of course, took him home and didn't contact the police because that would've turned everything to shit for Tomura and he was far to young to be experiencing cops and courts and investigations, who yo were sure would find a way to incriminate him and send him go jail or worse. You had introduced Dabi to Tomura and told him that he would staying here.

Dabi being jealous and protective of you, snarled "For how long?"

You smiled and rubbed Tomura's back in a comforting manner. "For as long as he'd like."

While reader being poor and helpless and working herself to the bone would be the typical plot to go, how about a reader who is rich- Maybe a year after she adopted Dabi, she has suddenly got a hefty inheritance from a distant relative. The first thing she does is legally adopt Dabi (with his consent of course), then adds his name in her will (he was very moved by it, but he cried alone in his room). Then Tomura comes along, and she also adopts him legally and the two "brothers" are always fighting with each other, only stopping around you because of how gravely it upsets you when they don't get along. From a very young age, you had told them that the two of them are family and they always have to stick together, have each other's backs no matter what. So while they act amicably in front of you, the moment you leave the room, they are at each other's necks.

Now that you're rich and the boys are all grown up, you decide its time for you to find love. But Dabi and Tomura have other plans.

One thing that they do agree upon is that no man or woman you date is ever gonna be good for you. So all of your dates are always gonna end up missing or ghosting you. I can also see them actively trying to prevent you from adopting more kids because they don't like to share, they don't want other greedy assholes (aka poor orphans) taking advantage of your kindness.

Maybe after you give them control of your company and decide to retire and go on a vacation, Dabi and Tomura will hire men to keep tabs on you, protect you, put a tracker on you so that they know where you are at all times. And when they find out that you're on a vacation with a "secret lover", their blood boils, more so when they find out that your s/o has proposed to you and you agreed.

IMMEADIATELY you're flown back home by their bodyguards, and you can struggle all you want, their not letting you go (although Dabi and Tomura had ordered them not to a hurt a hair on your head. You're just too soft and fragile). When you're brought home and find out that it was your own sons who did this, you are furious, yelling at them that that they can't do this.

Dabi narrows his eyes at you. "Of course, we can. We're looking out for you because you don't know whats good for you. Like lying to us and going out with some measly pervert."

Your eyes widened. How did he know? "You've been spying me-?"

"Its for your own good." Tomura said, cupping your cheek. "You're old now, so you can't take care of yourself. Just let us do it. Listen to us."

You recoiled back from him, confusion evident on your as you looked back and forth between them. What are they talking about?

"I- I don't understand this- you shouldn't be spying on me! I'm an adult! I can take care of myself. And who I date or see is not your concern! I'm well equipped to make my own decisions! And then to have me dragged here with no explanation! What would s/o think?! You've embarrassed me in front of him!" You scolded them but they both shared a look. "I'm gonna have to call him back, but this isn't over!"

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, mom." Tomura said, and you began to worry when he didn't offer an explanation.

"What do you mean?"

Dabi spoke this time, face stoic as ever. "He's been taken care of."

What?

The longer they remained silent, the more the daunting realisation hit you.

"I- no..."

Seeing the terrified look on your face, Dabi attempted to comfort you by grabbing your forearms.

"He's been taken care of. You won't ever see him again."

"No- no!" You began to struggle in his arms, trying to break free but he towered over you and held you tighter. "No! You didnt- no! Let go! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO-!"

Tears slipped from your eyes at the silent confession of a heinous crime came from your sons, the news being too much as you lost consciousness, both from the shock and from the tiredness.

Dabi lifted you up and began walking to your room, tucking you under the covers as you felt them kiss your cheek, too tired to even flinch away from the murderers.

Perhaps they're right. Maybe you are too old now.

[lemoncrushh]

Tattooed Heart - Part V

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 5k+

STORY PAGE

Unlocking the door, you treaded lightly across the living room to the kitchen, knowing Shae was either still sleeping or getting ready for work. While you definitely wouldn’t consider it the walk of shame - you had nothing to be ashamed of - you knew the inevitable conversation with your roommate was fast approaching, and you weren’t looking forward to it.

Opening the cabinet quietly, you pulled out the coffee canister and prepared the pot, hoping to at least perk your friend’s mood. When you heard her door open, you braced yourself for a scowl or evil eye, but instead, she padded down the hall to the bathroom, not even looking in your direction. With a sigh, you poured yourself a cup of coffee and sat at the counter, inhaling the aroma as your mind began to wander.

Harry had been so sweet that morning, pouting slightly when you’d told him you had to get home and get ready for work. With heavy eyelids, he’d kissed you softly, offering to make you breakfast.

“You’ve cooked for me plenty,” you’d declined with a smile. “Besides, I should probably explain everything to Shae like I’d promised before my shift starts.”

When he’d driven you home, he’d pulled you into a deep kiss, causing your head to spin and your insides to melt. Then he’d wished you a pleasant day with a smile, promising to call later.

“Hey,” you heard before you saw her.

Clearing your throat and blinking your eyes, you sat up and acknowledged your roommate. “Good morning.”

Shae remained with her back to you as she grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee. Sipping your own, you wondered if she was giving you the cold shoulder, until she finally sighed and muttered, “How was your date?”

“Wonderful…actually,” you said, hoping she’d turn to face you.

“Really? Well…I guess I kinda figured that since you stayed out all night. Did you just get home?”

“Yeah,” you swallowed.

Finally turning around, Shae looked at you with wide eyes.

“He must be amazing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, Shae. And I should have. It’s just…well honestly, I wasn’t sure if he was for real at first. Even after he apologized, I couldn’t bring myself to accept it right away.”

“Wait…back up,” your roommate held up her hand. Then taking the stool next to yours, she continued. “Start at the beginning. Like, right after you ran into him at the coffee shop.”

“Well, like I told you, he helped me get the job. He vouched for me, told my boss I was the best waitress he’d ever had.”

“Right. And I told you you should have kissed him,” Shae smirked. “But you thought he had some kind of motive. Or was just feeling guilty.”

“Yeah, I was kind of right about that last part,” you said, taking a sip of coffee.

“So, what? He kept apologizing or something? Came in and stalked you?”

“No. He’s actually a regular at the cafe. Everyone else who works there knows him. He comes in to work on his tablet or laptop. He’s an artist. He doesn’t just do tattoos.”

Shae’s mouth dropped open as she stared at you.

“He stays to himself mostly,” you continued, “but I quickly realized he’s a nice guy. So I went to his shop to talk to him and…he asked me out.”

“Oh my God.”

“I didn’t tell you that night of our first date because…well, like I said…I wasn’t sure yet. But we had a nice meal and a long discussion. Turns out he was telling the truth. He was really drunk that night and he feels really bad about the way he treated me.”

When you took another drink from your mug, Shae continued to glare at you, an invisible question mark above her head. “And?”

“And what?”

“That’s it? No more details? You’re leaving it there?”

With a chuckle, you ran your fingers through your hair. “There’s not much more to tell except…he’s a fantastic man.”

“Obviously. That’s why you got home at seven in the morning.”

“Shae!” you laughed harder.

“How many times have you been out with him?”

“Yesterday was our second date.”

“Wow,” Shae sighed. “That was a long second date.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you grinned.

“Seriously? You’re not even gonna throw me a bone? I’ve been your roommate for three years!”

“I will tell you one thing,” you offered.

“What?”

“He’s designed a tattoo. For me.”

“Get out! When are you getting it done?”

Looking down at your cup, you traced the rim with your fingertip. “I don’t know. He wanted to do it last night, but I told him we could save it for another time. I’m just not sure how I feel about it yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…very personal. It feels…extremely intimate.”

Shae snorted, making you glare at her. “You did have sex with him, right?”

“I don’t mean that,” you shook your head. “It’s much more intimate than sex.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t certain if your roommate understood what you meant, but you didn’t expect her to. Rising from your stools, you gave each other hugs. You apologized again for not informing her of Harry sooner, and she wished you the best with him.

“I’m happy it all worked out,” she declared. “Especially glad he’s not a jerk. Because he’s really attractive. But I was willing to hate him for you.”

“I know,” you nodded, remembering your conversation with Harry the day before. “And I love you for that.”

“Can I get a cappuccino with light foam and a blueberry scone?”

You rang up the customer with a smile, only to take another’s order right afterwards. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled slowly. The cafe was extra busy, especially for a Wednesday. Luckily, you only had twenty minutes left before your break. You felt Jill and Melaina busying themselves behind you, trying to get the drink orders out as fast as they could. When the last man in line placed his order, you quickly grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter. You’d just stuffed it away when the door opened again.

“Good afternoon,” you announced before the woman had even approached you. “What can I get y-”

Stopping your sentence before the last word, you suddenly recognized the familiar face. And blonde hair.

“Oh, hello. It’s you,” she said, almost in a snarl.

“Yes?” you questioned, your brow raised.

Scanning the seating area, Nicolette spoke again without looking at you. “I was hoping I might find Harry here. I understand he frequents this cafe.”

“He’s not here,” you remarked flatly. ‘Frequents this cafe’? Was she trying to sound posh? She wasn’t even British.

“Oh, pity.” Yep, she definitely was. You rolled your eyes before she turned back to face you. “I’ve rung and texted him several times, but he hasn’t replied. If you speak to him, will you let him know Nicolette is looking for him?”

“What for?” you asked, shocking even yourself at your boldness.

Nicolette frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“Okay then. No.”

“Pardon me?” the blonde looked taken aback.

“I will not tell him. He doesn’t need to have any more contact with you. Your transaction is through.”

“My transaction?” Nicolette repeated, her face contorting into something that resembled a confused rat.

“You’re not a nice person, and you use people. You used Harry to get what you wanted, and now it’s over.”

The blonde chuckled slowly, then threw her head back and began to cackle. This time she resembled Cruella DeVille. “Oh, sweetie. You’ve got it all backwards. Harry Styles used me. Now, I would watch yourself if I were you.”

Plucking a mint from the bowl on the counter, Nicolette strutted off, the door swinging closed behind her as she walked out into the sunshine.

“Who the hell was that?” gasped Jill whom you’d forgotten stood behind you. You were grateful to see that Melaina was wiping down tables. She may have not heard or seen the interaction.

“Harry’s ex,” you muttered.

“Holy crap. How do you know that? You’ve seen her?”

You cringed, suddenly realizing you may have to reveal your secret to Jill. “Um, there’s pictures of her with him on his website.”

“But you told her she’s not a nice person. You must have met her before.”

With a sigh, you decided to come clean. “I saw her yesterday. At the art gallery.”

“The art gallery?” Jill’s eyes widened. “Did you go to see Harry’s art?”

Biting your lip, you nodded. “With Harry.”

“Oh my God!” Jill covered her mouth with her hand, then whispered, “Are you dating him?”

“Yeah. But please, let’s keep it between us for now.”

“Why? Everyone here loves him! They’d be happy for you. I’m happy for you!”

“I appreciate that,” you grinned. “It’s just…it’s still new, you know?”

“Oh! Say no more. I totally get it. But I’m so happy for you!”

You chuckled as Jill put her hands on her hips. “Huh, I wonder why I’ve never seen her. She’s never come in here before.”

“I wonder why she was looking for Harry,” you added. “Maybe something to do with his art.”

“What was that she said to you at the end? Just before she left?”

“Oh, um…I don’t know.”

“Something about watching yourself? What did she mean by that?”

You simply shrugged as Melaina returned to the counter and the door opened once more. “Beats me.”

Harry called you that evening after he got home from work. You chatted lightly for a bit about Shae and both of your jobs until you decided to tell him about your little encounter with his ex-whatever-she-was.

“She came to the cafe just to find me?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. How did she know you hang out there?”

“Ugh,” Harry groaned with a pause. “I may have mentioned it.”

“Oh.”

“In fact, I think I asked her to join me for coffee once, but she brushed me off. Said she had other plans.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, babe. She shouldn’t have done that.”

You sighed. “Well, it’s a public place. And I don’t think she knew I worked there. Did she?”

“I don’t see how. But she was deliberately rude to you, and I don’t like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

“I’ve had to deal with ruder people,” you joked.

“Y/N…”

“Harry…” you mimicked his tone.

“You’re gonna keep taking the piss, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Only because I know the real you now.”

“Do you?”

“Um…I…hope I do,” you said.

“Hmm, I reckon you’re one of very few who does.”

“I’m glad,” you grinned, your cheeks warm. “What about Nicolette?”

“What about her?”

“Did she ever see the real you?”

“Not even close. I mean…she knew me on a surface level. She knew I created art. She thought I had talent…or so she claimed. But she didn’t know me any deeper than that.”

“Did she know you like to cook?” you asked.

“I doubt it," Harry snorted. "She lives on cocktails and nicotine. Not exactly the domestic type."

“So it was pretty much just a physical relationship.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. Although you knew the answer, your mouth betrayed you with your brain’s curiosity.

“Um…we don’t have to talk about that.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just…she said something to me that kind of rubbed me wrong.”

“What was that?”

“She said you used her, not the other way around. And that I should watch myself. What did she mean?”

You heard Harry hiss in a breath. “I dunno.”

“Was she implying you’ll use me too?”

“Maybe. Because she’s a bit delusional.”

“I see.”

“Babe…you don’t believe that, do you? Tell me you don’t.”

“I don’t. At least…I hope not. But, you know…we don’t know each other that well yet.”

Harry chuckled, “You just said you knew the real me.”

“I know, but…it’s only been a few days.”

“Honey…” Harry paused as you heard his breaths through the phone. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

“Convince me of what?”

“That I’m not the creep you first met. I’m not a bastard who gets people fired. I’m not an arrogant asshole, and I don’t use women.”

Biting your lip, you fingered the hem on your t-shirt. “That’s not entirely true, is it?”

“What?”

“Well…you said yourself - Nicolette was a rich girl. And you thought she could help you meet people.”

Harry sighed, sounding defeated. “That’s true. And I told you I wasn't proud of it.”

“So you admit you used her.”

“Yeah. But not in the way you think.”

“There’s more than one way?” you laughed nervously.

“It was…kind of mutual, if you will,” replied Harry.

“Okay.”

“There were no feelings involved. I…she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She made it pretty obvious from the beginning. And I was okay with that because…I was too focused on my art to give her more. And she was far too busy to hardly remember I existed.”

“That doesn’t sound fun at all,” you commented.

“It wasn’t,” Harry confirmed. “Her father knew Sherod who owns the art gallery. She helped set me up with an exhibit. We - dated, if you could call it that - for a little over three months. But we barely spent any time together unless it had to do with business. I hardly knew her.”

“And she hardly knew you,” you added.

“Yeah, exactly.”

Exhaling through your nose, you laid back on your pillow. “Thank you for telling me that, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, love. Does it make you feel better?”

“A little. Not that I felt bad or anything. I was just curious.”

“But it did bother you, right? What she said?”

“Yeah.”

“Baby…you do know I’m not using you, right?”

“Well, yeah,” you snickered, “I’m not rich.”

“Y/N!”

You giggled harder. “I’m playing with you, Harry!”

“I swear to God, if you didn’t have such a cute laugh, I’d-” Harry’s words stopped.

“You’d what?”

You heard Harry hum softly, and you could tell he was smiling through the phone. “This is what I mean,” he said genuinely. “Nicolette and I…we didn’t have this. She’s…a different kind of girl. She’s not…”

“Giggly?” you asked.

“She’s not you.”

You felt your heart flip in your chest at his admission. Though your room was dark, you might as well have been walking on sunshine. Your insides danced and glowed while you tried hard to bring together a string of words and form a sentence. Fortunately, Harry continued his thoughts instead.

“I don’t care that it’s only been a few days, a couple of dates. I’m already having way more fun with you than I ever had with her. And I know it’s not fair to compare, and I’m stupid to even try. I just want you to know…that’s how I feel.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “Harry, I…don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s alright. I’ve said enough. Now we can drop the subject before I scare you away.”

You smiled as you silently wished he was with you in person so you could kiss his soft lips.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Okay.”

“Did you call her back?”

“Nicolette? No…I’m not interested in anything she has to say.”

“Oh.”

“Can we change the subject now, baby?”

“Of course,” you beamed before asking him about the tattoos he’d done that evening, and what art he was currently working on, all while trying to keep your feelings in check every time he gave you a term of endearment.

Harry came to the cafe Friday morning. In fact, he was already there when you’d arrived for the mid-morning shift, Stan and Carol having opened. You smiled when you walked in from the rear entrance, tying your apron, his back to you as he sat in his regular spot.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly as you walked past his table.

He lifted his head from his iPad, giving you a sleepy, lop-sided grin before mouthing, “Morning, sweetheart.”

Your insides melted as usual while you made your way to the front counter. As you greeted Stan and his wife, you stole another glance at the only occupied table. Though you knew it was ludicrous to even consider, you missed him. It was only Tuesday that you’d had that most pleasant day with him, and you’d chatted for over two hours on the phone Wednesday night. But Thursday hadn’t proven to be much of a Harry day. With the exception of a short text during your lunch break when he’d said he would be busy most of the day, and a quick goodnight text before bed, you hadn’t even spoken. You longed to hear his voice, like a lover thousands of miles away from her beloved. You’d shaken the notion the night before after you’d laid in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour after that quick text. You knew he was busy, most likely with his art. And you didn’t feel like it was your place to inquire about it. It was one day for crying out loud.

“Get a hold of yourself, Y/N!” you’d groaned, turning out the lamp and pulling the covers up to your chin.

Still, to see him sat at his usual, familiar table was a huge relief. And the fact he’d called you sweetheart was just icing on the cake.

A few customers trickled in during the first thirty minutes of your shift, and by the next hour, the cafe was nearly full. You were only able to stop by Harry’s table a couple of times, mostly to ask if he wanted a refill and to wipe down nearby tables. Each time, he seemed to be deep into his work. You caught a glimpse or two here and there, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Finally at eleven, Jill came in for her shift and Stan and Carol left soon after.

“How’s everything going with Handsome?” Jill asked as you prepared a latte.

“Fine,” you grinned.

“He seems extra focused today.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I don’t wanna bother him.”

Just then, as if he knew you were talking about him, Harry lifted his head and peered over at you. His smile grew across his face as he sat back and stretched. You couldn’t help but smile back. And when he motioned for you to come his way, your breath caught in your throat.

“Sorry, love, I wasn’t trying to ignore you,” he said when you reached his table.

“I know. You looked very busy and deep in thought,” you nodded.

“It’s only ‘cause I was trying to finish up a few things.”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

Harry surprised you by reaching out his hand to your waist and pulling you closer.

“I wasn’t trying to ignore you yesterday either. I had a lot of business to tend to. But I thought about you.” His other hand slid around the other side of your waist as his eyes gazed up at you.

“You don’t have to reassure me, Harry,” you partially lied.

“No? Hmm, thought maybe you missed me. ‘Cause I missed you.”

A nervous laughter left your chest and you shook your head. “God, you’re good.”

“Yeah? Good at what?”

“At…making me feel…things.”

“Hmm,” Harry lifted his brows. “What kind of things?”

The door opened then, and a couple of people walked in. Seeing that Jill already had a customer, you figured you should help.

“I have to get back to work, Harry,” you commented, grabbing his wrists and pulling them from your hips.

“Alright,” he smirked. “I have to go anyway. Can I see you tonight?”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Kyle’s closing tonight. I get off at nine.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah.”

“Good,” Harry grinned, rising from his chair and slipping his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll call you later, babe.”

Then with no hesitation at all, he cupped your chin with one hand and planted a big, wet kiss on your lips. For what was probably just two seconds in reality, you stood frozen in your spot as though time was fastforwarding around you, your eyes wide, your mouth open as Harry murmured a goodbye and left the cafe.

Your phone buzzed that evening while you were in the middle of a writing session. You hadn’t written anything in what seemed like forever. But somehow, you were suddenly inspired. And you figured the caller had a lot to do with it.

“Hey!” you answered with a smile in your voice.

“Hi, beautiful. I have a request.”

“Oh?”

“So…there’s been a change of plans for tonight.”

“Oh,” you frowned, disappointment apparent in your tone.

“How do you feel about a cocktail party?” asked Harry.

“I…what…where?”

Harry chuckled. “It’s at the gallery. It’s kind of last minute, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to put together something for a potential buyer. That’s part of what I was working on yesterday. I was hoping to set something up for next week, but turns out the client’s only in town this weekend. And I have to work late tomorrow night.”

“Oh. Well, that’s exciting! I’ve never been to one of these types of things though. You sure you want me there?”

“You’re the only person I want there, love. Well, besides the client, of course.”

“Then I’d love to come.”

“Great! I’m gonna try to leave a bit early, so can you be ready at nine o’clock?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you so much, baby. I’ll see you then.”

“Are you nervous?” you asked when Harry parked the car.

“Why, do I look nervous?” he turned his head to look at you. His eyes were wild and he continued to drum his hands against the steering wheel.

“A little,” you smirked. Then you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “It’s okay if you are though. I totally understand.”

Harry’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath before he squeezed your hand. “I guess I am. I just…want this to go well.”

“It will. I believe.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled in the dim light from the dashboard. “Thanks, babe. You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, by the way. Did I tell you?”

“You may have mentioned it,” you beamed. You’d been so relieved to find the little black dress in the back of your closet from two years ago. And even more relieved that it still fit. But that relief didn’t compare to the look on Harry’s face when you’d opened the door. His obvious heart-eyes matched yours as you took in his sexy black suit and open shirt.

“Are you ready to go in?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he exhaled again, opening the car door.

Stepping into the gallery, you were surprised to see a small marquee with Harry's name on it. To the right stood the woman you recognized from the reception desk. She greeted you both with a smile, letting you know Sherod was already waiting inside.

"Harry! There you are!" announced the gallery owner when you rounded the corner. "And you dear, you look smashing!" Sherod held out his hand to you and gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek."

"Thank you," you blushed.

You noticed a handful of people gathered around Harry's art as a waiter walked up with a tray of wine, offering you a glass.

"He's not here yet, I take it," remarked Harry.

"Not yet. He's on his way."

You watched as Harry and Sherod made small talk with the other guests, Harry introducing you to them which made you feel nice. Each time someone would give him a compliment, you felt his hand press against your lower back as though you were his rock steadying him.

You were both on your second glasses of wine when the so-called potential client arrived. He wasn't what you were expecting - although you weren't sure what that was. Donovan McNulty wore a navy blue suit with a red shirt and tie. He was probably an inch or two shorter than Harry with bleached blonde hair and an Irish accent. He had a pleasant smile that seemed to be permanent on his face. You liked him right away.

You listened as he expressed his interest in Harry's art. While he liked all of his work, he was particularly fond of one piece, the one that you had secretly declared your personal favorite.

"It's the perfect piece for my office, directly behind my desk," remarked Donovan as he held his hands up like a frame.

You beamed at Harry, trying to hide your glee from the client.

"I think that would be a smart choice," you heard a female voice say behind you.

Twirling around, you were met with the one face you hoped you'd never have to see again.

"Harry, so sorry I'm late," Nicolette said with her pointed face as she placed her hand on his bicep before addressing the buyer, extending her other hand. "Good evening. Nicolette Waters."

"Donovan McNulty, love! How d'you do?"

You stood glaring at the interaction before turning to Harry. "What is she doing here?" you seethed.

"I dunno. I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"You told her? You said you hadn't talked to her."

"I know, babe, I'm sorry. But she got a hold of me yesterday. She kinda helped me set this up. I asked her not to come, though."

Unable to form any more words, you stared at him, a lump in your throat. You could feel the tears threatening to form in your eyes and you blinked rapidly.

"Excuse me…" you cried before escaping the area, hastily searching for the ladies room.

Moments later as you sat in the stall, wiping your tears, you heard a wrap on the door.

"Y/N. Baby, please come out. I'm sorry. I should have told you." While his voice was low and calm, his words were anxious. "I'll explain everything when we leave. I just need you to come out now, okay? Please?"

You realized then that you weren't exactly sure what you were upset about. Was it that Harry hadn't told you about Nicolette? Or simply that she'd shown up? Either way, you knew that this night wasn't about you. It was about Harry. And his art. This was his night, his chance. And you didn't want to ruin it.

Sniffling, you rose from the toilet and flushed it. "I'll be right there, Harry," you called. After washing your hands, you were surprised to find him still standing on the other side of the door. His expression was a combination of concern and indignation, his jaw set.

"I'm so sorry," he said again. "I honestly didn't think-"

"It's fine, Harry," you held up your hand. "Like you said, you can tell me later. Let's go talk to Mr. McNulty."

"You sure you're okay?"

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. He hesitantly took your hand and you followed him back to the party. Nicolette was still giving Donovan an earful, or perhaps it was the other way around. You stood back, releasing Harry's fingers from your own, gesturing for him to take the lead. You watched with pride as he interjected the conversation, re-earning the client's attention. Before long, the two seemed like old mates, Harry making Donovan laugh and vice versa.

"He's so very talented," one of the other women said to you a few minutes later when you decided to wander around the gallery.

"Yes," you nodded. "He is."

"I heard he does custom tattoos as well. Is that true?"

Turning to face the woman, you noticed she had a sleeve of ink on her left arm. Grinning, you nodded again. "Fine Line Ink is his shop. He owns it."

"Oh, I'll have to check it out! Not that I need any more tattoos," she chuckled.

"I'm about to get my first," you commented quickly. You weren't sure why you said it. But you realized then that it was the truth.

"Oh, really? I figured being his girlfriend, you'd already have loads."

Color rose to your cheeks. "We just started dating."

The woman's eyes widened as she leaned closer and touched your arm. "You must be very special to him, then!"

After your little chat with the friendly woman, you were eyeing that tranquil painting that you and Harry admired when you felt a hand slip around your waist.

"I sold it," he whispered in your ear.

You grinned. "I knew you would."

"You ready to go?"

You shifted to face him. "Already? That's it?"

"Yep. Sherod takes care of the rest."

"And Nicolette?"

"She left. Few moments ago."

"Okay."

Harry led you outside to his car, opening the passenger door for you. Neither of you said anything else until you were stopped at a red light.

"Please forgive me, love. I know I should have told you."

"Yeah, you should have. Especially after telling me you had no interest in talking to her."

"I didn't. But she found me yesterday. There at the gallery, actually. She told me about McNulty. He was very interested in my art. I couldn't let a potential sale slip away. You get that, right?"

"I do," you nodded. "And I'm sorry I ran off. It was selfish of me. I was just upset she was there and…I guess I was jealous."

"Nothing to be jealous over, Y/N. It was strictly business. I told her I didn't think it was a good idea for her to come, even though she acted like she was entitled to be there since she'd gotten me the lead."

"I guess I can understand that," you said.

"She shouldn't have though. She only did it out of spite. And I'm sorry I hurt you in the process. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I just hoped she wouldn't show. I was stupid to think she wouldn't."

Lifting your hand to his shoulder, you slid it down his arm. "You’re forgiven."

Harry was quiet again until he was almost at his flat. Clearing his throat he looked at you.

"Again, I shouldn't have assumed. Am I driving to my place…or yours?"

You considered his question for a moment. While you still felt a sourness in the pit of your stomach, you knew you weren’t angry with him. It was his special night, and he’d earned that sale. As a smile slowly grew on your lips, you threaded your fingers through his.

"I guess that depends on how you want to celebrate."

One more part left which will be reposted tomorrow. Thank you for all the likes and reblogs! I wish I hadn't deleted this in the first place, but hopefully it's gotten some new readers. :)

[fanfics4all]

Withdrawals

Request: Yes / No

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Glenn Rhee x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1075

Warnings: Going through withdrawals, nothing too specific 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The cold damp air of the prison clung to my skin, making the shivers worse as I lay curled up in my bunk. My muscles ached and my whole body felt like it was burning from the inside out. Withdrawal in a place like this was torture, like every inch of concrete and steel intensified the pain. Glenn had found some old blankets and tucked them around me, doing everything he could to make me comfortable even though he could only do so much. I felt guilty seeing him like this, so committed… his eyes were tired and worried. He hadn’t left my side since he found me curled up, struggling to breathe. 

“You don’t have to do this, Glenn.” I mumbled, barely able to get the words out. 

“You’ve already done so much…” He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at me. He crouched next to the bed, leaning in so his eyes met mine, his gaze fierce and unwavering. 

“Have I ever given up on you?” He asked, his voice low but filled with intensity. I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. 

“No. Never.” He reached out, taking my hand in his. 

“Then don’t ask me to now.” Tears pricked my eyes and I looked away, ashamed. 

“But I feel like I’m failing… Like… like I’m dragging you down with me.” Glenn shook his head, his grip on my hand tightening, grounding me. 

“You’re not dragging me down. We’re going to get through this together.” He moved to sit on the edge of the bunk, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. 

“I’m here because I want to be here. You’re worth it to me. I won’t let you go through this alone.” I felt the tears slip down my face, and he brushed them away gently, his thumb moving in soft circles on my cheek. 

“I just… I don’t want to be a burden.” I whispered, feeling exposed. I hated how vulnerable I felt, but he made me feel safe. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. 

“Listen to me.” He whispered. 

“You are not a burden. You’re going through hell right now, which doesn’t make you weak or unworthy. It makes you human.” His voice was steady. It was a lifeline during my storm. 

“When it feels impossible, I’ll be right here to remind you why you’re fighting.” The sounds of the prison drifted around us, footsteps echoing down the hallway, the distant clanging of metal, the conversations of the other survivors… but in that moment, it was just the two of us. 

“I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but I can promise I’ll be here. Through every minute, every second, I’m staying right here with you.” He said, his voice soft as he pulled the blankets tighter around me. I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of him steadying me. The waves of pain and craving washed over me, but his hand never let go of mine. 

The prison started getting quieter than usual as the hours stretched on. The others were giving us space, but I knew they were aware of what was happening, word travels fast here. Despite the constant flicker of anxiety in the back of my mind, wondering what they thought, feeling embarrassed about the struggle Glenn was witnessing firsthand, his presence was the only thing keeping me steady. 

At some point, Glenn stood up and left for a moment. The loss of his warmth sent a fresh wave of shivers through me, but he returned quickly. He was carrying a small bottle of water and a cloth he damned with it. He sat back down beside me and handed me the water. 

“Drink. Slowly.” He said, his voice gentle. His hand brushed a few strands of hair from my face. I nodded, grateful for the cool relief as I took small sips. He didn’t speak much, just kept his eyes on me. He was watching every little tremor, every wince, reading me in ways I hadn’t thought anyone could. He dabbed my forehead with the damp cloth whenever I started sweating, muttering reassurances when I felt like I couldn’t take another second. 

The hours stretched and blurred. I must have drifted off at some point, my body momentarily giving in to the exhaustion. When I came to, he was still here, sitting close, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my hand. 

“You didn’t have to stay.” I whispered, my voice raspy. 

“Of course I did. I told you I wouldn’t leave, didn’t I?” He smiled softly. I looked down, feeling a pang of guilt mixed with gratitude. 

“I don’t know how you can stand it. Seeing me like this…” Glenn tilted his head, his expression serious. 

“Because I love you.” He said, his voice low and sure.

“I’m not here because I feel like I have to be. I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, especially if you need me.” My breath hitched. We never said those words out loud before… Maybe I’ve always been too afraid of what they mean, of what I was risking by letting someone so close, especially someone as good and strong as Glenn. Hearing him say it, so real and honest, made my walls crack a little more. 

“I love you too… more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” I whispered, my voice breaking. He held my gaze, his eyes warm and steady, a glimmer of relief in his smile. 

“Then let me help you. I know it hurts and it’s hard, but you’re not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone in this again.” He muttered. The relief his words gave me was indescribable. I nodded, letting myself lean into his embrace, feeling the strength in his arms as he held me. 

As the days passed, Glenn stayed by my side never wavering. He was there through every agonizing second. When it felt like too much, he’d be there to remind me that I could make it through. He talked about the future, about the things we’d do once I was stronger. And slowly, day by day, I could feel myself coming back. It wasn’t easy, but Glenn was always there to help, he gave me hope to hold onto. He would tell me stories to distract me, make me laugh when I thought I forgot how to, and always remind me that this was just one part of my story, not the end.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1

[until-another-one-comes]

More serial killer Francis headcanons part 4

TW for abuse, homicide, injuries

If Francis’s mom had left her abusive husband before things went downhill and took custody of her son, they would be living on a farm together with her parents in the countryside. If that were to happen, Francis wouldn’t become a cold hearted killer. He would’ve never lost fate in humanity and worked on a farm, having a peaceful life, living in bliss.

As you can imagine, Francis doesn’t care about his neighbours. He sees them as nothing but vermin, just like himself. He particularly avoids the gossipy housewives (Lois, Raftellyn, Margarette). It’s not just because they annoy him but chances are they will likely spread rumours about him. If the situation will call for it, he’ll kill all of them if he can but since they live in the same apartment, he’ll be an obvious suspect so he perished that thought.

Despite coming off as polite, there’re times where his true personality slips in for a moment. He’ll always give the snarkiest comebacks to anyone who insults him. Or he’ll give them a mild threat such as “don’t make me come into your house and kill you.” We know he’ll follow through with it if someone crosses the line

Francis can feign basic human emotions and empathy. He can mimic a person’s emotions, albeit shallow. He has some cognitive empathy, which means he knows why a person feels that way towards something. But other than that, it was all a facade. Francis doesn’t understand emotions himself. He’s a cold hearted human being who locked away his emotions due to his past trauma. He thinks his emotions make him weak and easy prey. He used to cry a lot as response to being abused but afterwards murdering his dad, he never saw the point of feeling anything anymore other than to mask his inhuman nature.

He always brings a spare uniform with him whenever he goes out on a killing spree in case the one he’s wearing now gets bloody. He will always carry it in a paper bag whenever he comes back. He’s managed to convince the doorman or the neighbours that nothing is sis about him. He washes his bloodied uniforms with hydrogen peroxide.

Meanwhile Francis just exists to the other neighbours. They just know him as that sad, boring milkman that lives on the third floor. They barely interact with him because Francis always keeps to himself. Angus tried chatting with him but it always ends with Francis leaving in annoyance. Francis would kill Angus too if he had the chance. Imagine their shock when they found out their local milkman turns out to be a serial killer.

I’ve seen that anon ask about the word ‘serial killer’ not being coined yet in the 1950s. But Francis would earn the title of ��The Paramour Killer’ or ‘The Scarlet Killer’ if he’s ever found guilty.

If we’re going by the ‘doppelgänger represents a person’s nature’ theory, Francis’s doppels would be on the nose. The scarlet milk doppelgänger is extremely obvious (though it might be the doppel eating a human after mimicking Francis). There’s blood all over scarlet milkman to represent the people Francis slaughtered. As for the Hoon Man, it has that expression because as you know by now, Francis takes sick delight in murdering people. The black hollow eyes and mouth represents how dark his soul is yet it’s an empty void that represents how Francis is actually an empty man inside despite thrill he experienced taking away a person’s life.

Francis mostly takes after his father with their same face shape and figure except that his father’s hair is shaggier and has stubble on his face. He does take after some of his mother’s attributes too like her hair colour and tired eyes. Francis would cut his own hair and shave regularly because the thought of looking too similar to his father terrifies him.

He also has scars and burns on his back, legs and arms from his father’s punishments. This is why Francis always wears long sleeved shirts and pants to hide his injuries because he’s ashamed anyone would see them. Francis believes he’s an ugly human being, inside and out. This adds to his own intense self-loathing.

Francis has a hard time being vulnerable to anyone, including himself. Whenever he would look in the mirror, he could see that he looks too similar to his parents who abused him (even though he did love his mother at one point). Combined with seeing the scars on his body and all the heavy trauma he endured, Francis would always be on the verge of having a mental breakdown every time he looks at himself in the mirror but he’s used to blocking his emotions out so he went back to being an emotionless robot afterwards. Looking at his face and body disgusts Francis because it reminds himself that he’s a hideous monster who nobody could love.

Francis doesn’t have any likes, interests or hobbies. He doesn’t see the point in enjoying anything other than murder because his disdain for people overshadows everything. He doesn’t see the point of enjoying life because he knows that the world is a cruel place and he’s part of the cruelty that comes with it. He doesn’t have time for fun anyway.

Francis doesn’t believe true happiness or love exists. He might’ve felt it at one point during his childhood but it’s been long forgotten or extinguished by the abuse he went through. Happiness is a foreign concept to him. He could never understand why people feel such things because he never felt them himself. The only time he felt alive was when he took sadistic pleasure in ending his victim’s lives but that was only short lived. Francis is curious though, about what it truly means to be happy. Will he ever feel it? Perhaps he will never know what true happiness is…

That’s all I have for now. I’ve thought of more headcanons which will be written another part.

- Man, what could've been... thats honestly so sad to think about

- LMAO yeah I already figured that out. I guess he doesn't really like anyone or at least don't completely hate anyone? Also other than logic I also think he's smart enough to know that theres plenty of people in the apartment he can't take down one on one. This does make me wonder though- is he smart enough to frame someone if he does kill a neighbor? Hm

- Oof 💀 (I hc that normal Francis is the type to rarely ever raise his voice when he gets mad and more so silently annoyed when he does get mad)

- Nothing much to say, only that yeah that makes sense after his backstory

- Smart (also anon uhhh where are you getting all this information wjdjekdk)

- SPEAKING OF ANGUS I remember you're one of the people who hc that he's part of the mafia? If Francis did kill Angus would anyone come after him?

- I dub this man Scarlet Killer

- Said this before but I do believe Scarlet Milk actually did kill someone before going inside the apartment. But yeah, that intrepretation checks out. Scarlet Milk honestly feels like fanservice to me and Hoon Man is just silly, but sometimes I do wonder if Scarlet is maybe a hint about Francis (has anyone ever asked Nacho-sama about this?)

- I like this hc! I'm still thinking on how to design his parents, but they're more or less how you describe them physical wise. My version of Francis doesn't look *too* much like Emeric/Mr. Mosses (at least not enough to the point where he can't look in the mirror) and mostly takes after Elaine/Mrs. Mosses. But the similarities are there if you look closely (this is also why I don't trust myself to draw them. I'm not good at subtle stuff like that)

- Anon why

- Okay same but thats just cuz I hc him as not having one particular interest the way some other characters do. He just does whatever.

- Well knowing what happened to him he never will know happiness

[heckinconfusedparade]

You asked. You shall receive:

Since I haven't really seen this ever, what about Knuckles finally allowing himself to feel and to cry over something. He tries to hide it, thinking the rest of them will be ashamed of him or look down on him......but instead, the rest of the Wachowskis work together to just be there for him and show him they're not ashamed of him or disappointed in him, and it's okay to feel and to cry, they love him and they always will, and nothing will change that. Ever.

Grief Sucks

It never mattered how many years have passed, or if Knuckles has a new family who loves and takes care of him. Grief always finds a way to come swinging when you least expect it.

Knuckles loves his new family dearly, but.. he still misses his tribe. His father. He misses playing with the teenage Echidnas and training to become the strongest he can be.

If it weren’t for Maddie making it clear in the beginning that Knuckles is allowed to miss the family he had before, he would feel even more terrible longing for that life he had before. He still feels guilty. He has all he could want now, why does he feel like he needs more?

Knuckles knows it isn’t his fault, and Sonic knows it isn’t his fault what happened that fateful day where they lost everything. They’ve stopped blaming each other.

But still.. now Knuckles finds himself in his room in his basement clutching the small leafy headpiece his father had given him before leaving for war. It no longer fits him, and it hasn’t for years. Knuckles sniffles and holds it to his chest. He hates to cry. He’s supposed to be the strong warrior who never falters. An unmoving unstoppable force of extraterrestrial nature. Unfortunately his feelings are not something he can stop. Knuckles softly begins to cry. He doesn’t dare let out his inner pain and turmoil, because he doesn’t want to risk his brothers hearing him.

Turns out, it’s not his brothers he had to worry about. He hears scratching at the door on the top of the stairs. He hears the door open and Tom yelling that Ozzy is coming down. Ozzy charges down the steps to Knuckles. He jumps up onto his bed and lays down, putting his head in Knuckles’ lap. Ozzy looks at him and let’s out a sigh. Knuckles smiles a little and pets the dog “..you’d never judge me, Oz.” Knuckles and Ozzy have formed a really good bond. Ozzy suddenly lifts his head and starts giving Knuckles some puppy kisses, licking away his tears.

The sweetness of the gesture makes him cry a little more. Then he hears some shuffling beside him. He turns his head and Tails is there. “Knuckles..?” Tails has never seen his big brother cry before. Tails’ ears and tails droop. Knuckles quickly wipes away his tears “hello, Tails.” Tails hops up onto the bed next to Knuckles “are you crying?” He asks. Knuckles shakes his head and hides his face because his emotions are betraying him. Tails thinks for a moment and leaves.

Knuckles sighs. Tails is about to become a tattle tails. The entire family shows up and they’re all immediately showing concern.

Maddie sits next to Knuckles and puts her arm around him, pulling him close “what’s wrong, baby..?” Knuckles mumbles in response. Sonic now understands “…you miss them, don’t you…?” Knuckles nods slowly.

Knuckles looks at his parents “I am sorry you have to see me like this.” Tom gives him a confused look “why are you sorry? Knuckles.. it’s ok to cry. It’s always ok.”

Knuckles’ vision gets cloudy again as his eyes fill with tears “but.. but I’m supposed to be strong. I have to carry on the legacy of my tribe, and make my father proud. I know what you told me.. but it still feels wrong.”

Maddie leans her cheek on her boys head “Knuckles, it isn’t wrong. You had a family before us. They were taken away unfairly. You’re allowed to mourn them. Being strong isn’t about keeping everything in. Being strong is facing these challenges with honesty and not bottling it up. And you don’t have to be strong alone anymore.”

Knuckles takes her words in. He clings to her and let’s everything out. His family gathers around him to hug him, Ozzy included.

Everyone cries with him, even Sonic.

“Sonic, I have a question.” Knuckles gives his brother a serious look.

“What’s up?” Sonic asks.

“How did you ever stop hurting?” Knuckles asks, taking Sonic off guard. Sonic looks at him shocked. He smiles and shrugs “I never stopped hurting.”

“Then how come I’ve never seen you cry?” Knuckles asks.

Sonic crosses his arms “I’m not a very emotional guy. I don’t cry a lot.”

Tails pipes up “you cry in your sleep sometimes.” Sonic has a moment of realization “wait, is that why I sometimes wake up to you in my bed??” Tails nods. Sonic laughs “I though I was slick!”

Tom and Maddie take the time to remind them that they don’t have to cry alone. But if they want privacy, that’s ok. “We love you boys no matter what, and we will continue to love you until the end of time. Got that?” Tom asks. The boys nod.

The trio feels so lucky. They won the orphan lottery!

Knuckles and Sonic plan to go back to their home planet to visit where they grew up. They’re gonna start healing together.

[safetycar-restart]

Hi shelssssss! 🥸

The joy I feel knowing we’re both South Africans is unreal, lmao.

Anyway, CL16 having to please himself because you’re too tired.

You came back from a very long and tiring day at work. It feels as if your entire week had felt that way, and all you want to do is lay down and unwind for the rest of your evening. Seems you completely forgot about the boy waiting for you at home.

When you get home he practically jumps on you, kisses your neck and half undressed already. But when he pulls away he immediately notices that you’re definitely not your normal self. You look exhausted and like anything and everything is bothering you. Still you give him a small smile and a hug because even in your irritable state you could never make him feel unwanted.

You notice that he was definitely expecting something intimate to happen tonight due to his greeting and state. You feel terrible having to say no but you really can’t do anything tonight. He’s surprisingly understandable but of course he still has the problem in his boxers that he expected you to take care of.

So, you suggest he takes care of it himself. And you’d be happy to let him curl up next to you while you praise him, let him suck your fingers and just hold him close. He immediately agrees.

And that’s how you now find yourself laying in your bed with him whining and basically drunk on it all. The praising, the little touches that even in your exhausted, being so close to you and of course the feeling of his hand stroking himself.

Even tired, you’d never neglect your precious boy when it comes to aftercare. You clean him up and hold him close while the both of you fall asleep. You from the exhaustion of work and him from being his needy self.

Lol 🥸

-🩻

Ok i love this ask so much?? You rarely ever hear about situations where the Dom doesn’t want to do anything, so this is good I love it so much!!! Also I can’t believe we’re both South African either, it’s always wild to see another South African anywhere online 😂

So you have a very tiring day. And normally you love coming home to Charles, and you loved it today too, but what you weren’t excited about was realising that Charles was horny.

You have to be very careful how you go about this, because you’ve worked so hard to make Charles comfortable being open with his needs with you. He no longer feels ashamed to be needy with you, to show you how hard and desperate he is, to beg openly for what he wants.

So you need to handle this carefully. Maybe this is the first time charles was been in the mood but you haven’t? And you have to figure out how to tell him.

Meanwhile, he’s whining against you, grinding against you and clinging to you. He pulls away from you, and then frowns when he sees how tired you are. He cups your jaw, pouting and asking what’s wrong. He thinks he might have done something wrong. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he hurt you? Was he too needy?

You immediately reassure him, telling him that he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. And he hasn’t. He hasn’t done anything that he doesn’t know he’s allowed to do.

You hug him tight, promising him that he’s you’re best boy and that he’s done nothing wrong. You tell him that you’re just a little tired and that you don’t think you can scene with him today.

He doesn’t even let you finish your apology before he’s shushing you and pulling you into a hug. He’s a good boy! He would never, EVER, want to make you uncomfortable.

Of course he’s a little disappointed, because he’s rock hard and needy, but he’s hats not you’re fault. And he tells you as much.

The funny thing is, Charles is so quiet and uncertain when it comes to him speaking up. But the moment you feel guilty for something like that? Well then your baby boy becomes a Ted Talk host.

He asks you if he can go jerk off in the bedroom before you join him for cuddles, because he’s still your good boy and he wants to at least have your permission.

When he suggests jerking himself off, you realise that you have the energy to just lay down with him and praise him as he makes himself feel good. In fact, nothing would make you feel better than seeing your good boy jerking himself off.

So you lay down next to him, letting him suck on your fingers as he jerks himself off. And Charles has the best time!! He gets to suck on your fingers and jerk himself off and then you start praising him and it’s just the best.

You clean him up afterwards and then it’s time for some cuddles.

[whatsonmedia]

There's no Shame in Saying the 'C' Word

Cancer, It Exists, so Let's Not Be Ashamed to Say its Name  Since last year, and just recently with King Charles 3rd that nasty, vile c-word has been gracing the headlines again. I don't mean the one that rhythms with Brunt, but rather the one that rhythms with Dancer. Yes, I am in fact talking about Cancer. Just recently TV Presenter Jonnie Irwin who was known to audiences for shows like A Place in the Sun and Escape to the Country was diagnosed with Cancer back in 2020. Not long after his diagnosis became terminal when it had reached his brain. What surprised me after that was that he seemed to just disappear from our TV screens altogether. Now at first it took me a while to notice that I hadn't seen him on my screen for some time. However, when his diagnosis became more public, I was taken back a bit because it just seemed like he was being tucked away in the background. Like many others I just thought that unless it was his decision to go away and have some private time why has he just vanished all of a sudden? What I was proud of though was that when it did reappear on our screens again it was to talk about his battle with Cancer. I had nothing but admiration and respect for him. Here he was being out, open and fearless about an illness he was battling which by this point had become terminal.  I have known people who have lived with this dreadful and horrific sickness which, unlike human beings, doesn't discriminate, full-stop. Whether you are young, middle aged, elderly or disabled it just doesn't care. Straight from the outset the people I knew of who lived with this didn't go 'oh whoah is me' then go off somewhere to wallow in misery (though I wouldn't have blamed them if they ever felt tempted pending on their mindset in the moment) they just kept on going but at the same time were open about it with their nearest and dearest.0. So, as you can imagine, when King Charles 3rd Ann his Cancer diagnosis it did come as a surprise. He was open and honest about it and it started a conversation which, in all honesty, I think needs to happen a lot more. I myself have never actually had to battle with any form of Cancer, so in that respect, I am quite lucky. It also meant that I didn't have to start any conversations with anyone. Any after all, why would I?  However, this doesn't mean that it shouldn't be happening. A handful of years ago when I was working as a Customer Assistant in Supermarket a few work colleagues I knew had battles with Cancer. For three of them unfortunately their diagnosis was terminal but in the months that followed, before their deaths, I noticed that quite a number of colleagues had started talking about it with other colleagues. I on the other hand made a deliberate attempt to be cautious about what I said and to whom. Before I continue for a moment, I'm just going to let you know what my circumstances were and why I frequently went down the Proceed with Caution route. Two of the colleagues who I worked with who were terminal had children who I also worked with. Whenever I saw them, I always reminded myself about how I would feel if it was a member of my family who was terminally ill, would I want to talk about it?  My perspective is that I'd probably be on auto pilot and just trying to get through the day without even uttering a word. After a short while I did begin to talk about it, but not with those who had but rather those who knew them and understood me than me.  Even my late Grandma had it but thankfully made a full recovery. So, I suppose that in just as many ways, I too am just as guilty of not talking about it, but my sole excuse is that I didn't want to cause any further upset or distress. In some ways, I am like a reported 23% of males who don't want to discuss it. Now even though that's an estimate percentage I always say it's never wise to make assumptions about why it's not discussed.  Well, I am going to say it, CANCER, CANCER, CANCER, CANCER, CANCER, CANCER. There you go, I've said it. Now let's get talking about it. The illness has been around for hundreds of years and for as long as it's here amongst us we should be just as open about discussions as we are about fighting it. Check out the sources here Read the full article

[catt-leya]

no bc what about rick having an internal battle bc he doesn’t know how to tell you that he finds you just so hot. like he fantasizes about you nearly every day.

i don’t wanna be too specific so that you can let your imagination fly 😫 i just know the man would feel so dirty after he finishes,, like so guilty

Dirty (18+) || Rick Grimes

I am so sorry Anon 💓

I had the fic ready for a while, but never posted it.

Let's see how regularly I will post soon, but the requets I have, I will of course work off one by one.

I hope you enjoy reading it, even if it's not my best work 💓

Trigger: dirty talk (of course), age gap (no one is a minor!)

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and look over at Maggie, who is lifting the next post with Rick.

In the last few days, the walkers outside the prison fences have been increasing in number, so Rick has asked you and Maggie to help him put up the wooden posts.

Sighing, you bend over and grab the next piece of wood, not noticing how Rick's gaze wanders to your butt and for a few seconds he just stares at you before he catches himself staring and turns his head back to Maggie a little too violently.

Again and again, he faints and lapses into daydreams that include you. Preferably naked and under himself.

But what keeps him from trying anything is your age.

Of course, theoretically you would be old enough and in itself it would be nothing reprehensible, but he simply does not want to cross the line and therefore holds back.

Every time you get close to him, which is not uncommon because you are a very open person who doesn't shy away from physical contact, he pulls himself together and tries to treat you like any other member in your group, even though he would love to rip your clothes off.

What he doesn't know is that you are purposefully seeking physical contact with him.

Ever since you first saw him in his boots and worn shirt, you've been completely smitten with him, making an effort to be close to him without seeming pushy.

Mainly because you think that he sees you anyway only as a little girl who is too young to tease him in any way.

What's good for both of you is that you get along really well, even though neither of you know that the other wants more.

That's why you pick up the log with a groan and call out to Rick, "Okay, I'm really not going to heave this thing to the fence by myself, Rick."

You feel him close behind you before he replies, "Wait."

Rick walks past you and lifts the other side, taking some of the weight off of you and you smile openly at him.

You're standing directly across from each other and Rick can't help but let his gaze slide over your beautiful face, which must be slightly heated from the physical labor, and he follows the beads of sweat that form on your forehead and slowly slide down your cheek over your neck and then to the hollow between your collarbones before they sinfully disappear between your breasts and he wishes he could kiss you right there.

You watch his eyes lower to your breasts and notice heat rising inside you.

With each breath, your breasts lift slightly and he stares so intently at your cleavage that it feels like he's looking through your top and you notice your nipples stiffen.

Because you're still holding the wooden stake between you and Rick, you can't cover your breasts any more, and because you've gone without a bra, you're sure he can see your nipples clearly through the top.

In fact, he's a bit surprised when he can see the hard tips and is almost ashamed to say that he would give a lot to take them between his teeth and show you how sensitive your breasts can be.

Swallowing hard, he wants to look you in the face again, when a shrill scream echoes from one of the cell blocks and you both drop the wood at the same time.

Hectically you turn to Maggie, who doesn't hesitate for a second and runs to the cells, closely followed by Rick. Briefly you look to the fence and follow the two.

On the way, Rick has overtaken Maggie and rushes to the cells, closely followed by her. You're about to head for the door when a little girl runs out and straight for you.

Panicked, she babbles something to herself and you drop to your knees to calm her down a bit, "Shhhh, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

Again you look at the door but no one comes out and the screams get quieter and quieter.

Worrying that something has happened to your friends and you weren't there to stop anything.

You have no idea how long you hold the little girl in your arms, when the first people come out of the building with their eyes widened in fear and a young woman comes running towards you and the girl.

Fiercely, she pulls the girl into her arms and whispers, "You're okay. Thank heaven."

Now that you no longer have a job to do you can't help but stare at the people from the building, anxiously waiting for Rick to return.

People are falling into each other's arms and tears are being shed, only you are pacing.

As everyone comes out, you don't dare go in and stand a little apart to get a better view.

The group of people slowly disperses and you curse softly, "Shit."

Just as you decide to go into the building and see for yourself what happened inside, the door swings open and Rick comes out followed by Daryl and Maggie.

Without much thought you sprint in his direction and as his eyes fall on you, he says, "You might want to keep your distance."

But you couldn't care less about his words, so you fall around his neck at the top of your lungs.

Surprised by your reaction, he staggers back a few steps and catches himself before you can both topple backwards, wrapping his arms rather hesitantly around your waist.

Rick can't describe how happy he was to see that you didn't crash into the cell block with him and all tension now falls from his shoulders as he feels your body against his.

Your whole body shakes and he pulls you even closer to him, "Hey, I'm fine."

His voice is soft in your ears and you just bury your nose harder into his chest, turning him on more than it should in this situation.

He looks up from you and his gaze meets Daryl's, who raises an eyebrow questioningly, but Rick just nods slightly, which Daryl takes as a sign that everything is fine as far as it can be in this situation and walks with Maggie to what is currently the only safe cell block.

Rick's attention is taken over by you again, as you whisper softly through his chest: "I thought something had happened to you. You haven't come out in so long."

He can't help a smile forming on his face as he hears your concern. Especially since you've only fallen for his neck and no one else's.

Also, he would be lying if he didn't also admit that he has an extreme physical reaction to you. The way your soft breasts press against his torso and your arms are wrapped tightly around him.

Gently, he pushes his hips away from you a little so you don't notice HOW excited he is about your embrace and murmurs, "Sorry you had to wait so long."

At his words, your breathing slowly calms and you move away from him a bit so you can look him in the face and nod, "Okay. What happened anyway?"

Calmly, Rick describes to you what happened in the cells and neither of you think about the fact that you're still in each other's arms.

After Rick finishes, you gently disengage from his embrace and clear your throat, "Sorry, I know you can take care of yourself."

Silently, you look at each other for a few seconds and you can tell Rick is struggling with what words to choose before he hesitantly opens his mouth, "I don't mind. I...like it."

Surprised by his confession, you blink several times before biting your lower lip lightly and nodding.

Rick tries to take in every reaction from you and doesn't take his eyes off you as you take a small step back and ask, "You like it when I touch you?"

He didn't say it verbatim but you hit it well, so he nods, "Yeah."

You can practically grab the tension between you and you're tense to the max as you reach out your small hand compared to his large one and nervously place it on his chest, "Like here?"

Rick looks down at your hand and exhales an agonized breath as he thinks of where your hand would look much better.

He can't gauge what you're up to and asks in a raspy voice, "What are you doing?"

Shakily you exhale and let your hand slide feather light to his flat stomach, "I just want to know where to touch you."

The brief time you thought something might have happened to him has pulled the rug out from under you and you're desperate to know how far you can go after he really doesn't seem averse.

You just can't hide the fact that your hand is shaking slightly, and Rick takes a quick look around. When he doesn't spot anyone in the immediate vicinity, he takes your hand from his stomach and pulls you behind him into a small room nearby.

You stumble after him and are gently pushed against the door by him before he says softly, "You don't have to worry about me leaving and whatever short-circuit reaction you had earlier, just forget about it."

Now you realize that he didn't bring you here to fuck you, but so that he wouldn't have to tell you to get him out of your head in front of any witnesses.

You're thankful that there are no windows in the room and therefore it's so dark that he can't see your cheeks, which are flushed with shame.

You could have sworn that he really enjoyed your closeness, so you murmur shamefully, "If you don't want me to touch you, please let me go."

At that moment, you just want to be as far away from him as possible, but he blocks you with his body and growls softly, "You've got me all wrong. Shit, I'd give a lot to have you jerk me off, but I shouldn't want that."

Immediately he notices you stiffen and regrets his unfiltered words, but before he can salvage what needs to be salvaged, you purposefully place your hand on his belt, "I'm curious about the explanation of why you shouldn't want me to shove my hand down your pants right now, though."

At your words, Rick shifts toward your hand more out of reflex than intent and sighs softly, "What are you, 20? 21? It just feels dirty to look at you that way and want you."

Rick is teetering along the edge of his self-control as you thoughtfully run the flat of your hand over his belt buckle and lean your head against the door to face him in the dim darkness, "I'm 22."

Confused, he furrows his eyebrows, "What?"

You release your hand from his belt and he already thinks you're going to ask him to make room for you now, but you place your hands on his left and right arm, propped up next to your head, and slowly travel up his forearms to his strong upper arms and then to his neck to intertwine your fingers in his curls before answering: "You did guess how old I am and that's why I'm telling you I'm 22 and that's why there's nothing wrong with you getting hard thinking about me or fucking me until I can't moan anything but your name, Rick. "

Hearing his name from your lips, escaping you like a soft sigh, makes him moan softly and you know you've got him almost where you want him, which is why you kick it up a notch and purr, "Don't you want to ruin me? Feel my soft body under your palms and grab me so hard that I'll be walking around marked by you for the next few days. I bet you're incredibly turned on by the age difference, and you'd just love to know what it's like to be so deep inside me that I can't think straight, wouldn't you?"

You can see exactly when he's caving in and can't hold back anymore. It's just a slight change in his eyes and you know you're getting what you wanted when he leans in slightly and growls, "You want it hard?"

Your heart hammers in your chest as you bring out hoarsely, "Yes, please."

The door presses coldly against your back as he bridges the small distance and presses his lips firmly to yours and you close your eyes, fluttering.

It's been a while since you've kissed a man, but I guess it's like never forgetting how to ride a bike. Intuitively, you know what to do and push up on your toes so Rick doesn't have to lean down so far.

The kiss is hard and passionate, as if Rick is putting all of his desire that has been building up over all this time into the kiss and you are trying to show him that as well.

Because he's still not really touching you and is still leaning against the door behind you, you take advantage of the moment and press yourself firmly against him, then turn him so that he's leaning against the door with his broad back and looks down at you in surprise.

Rick has never thought of you as a weak woman, of course you are physically inferior to him, but that has never prevented you from standing up to him, but the fact that you suddenly take control in the foreplay surprises him, even though he should perhaps have expected it after your little speech earlier.

He can't take his eyes off you as you move your small hands from his neck to his chest and you slowly lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

You feel his irregular heartbeat under your palms before you continue to look into his beautiful blue eyes and your hands come to rest on his belt buckle again.

Slowly you pull the belt out of the buckle and pull his pants including boxers to just below his hipbones to breathe a light kiss on them.

The light and innocent touch of your lips so close to his twitching cock almost makes Rick lose control and he reaches into your hair, making you laugh softly, "Is this how you imagined it?"

Rick's head falls forward a little, causing some curls to hang in his face as he brings out in a clenched voice, "Better than I imagined."

Gently, you pull his pants completely off, trying not to swallow hard when you see how big he actually is, licking your lips instead to get ready.

Your eyes are focused on the task in front of you, but you can feel Rick's eyes boring into your face.

The trembling in his hands also gives him away: he wants you a lot more than he'd admit.

As he watches you take him inch by inch in your mouth, he really has to pull himself together not to fuck you in the mouth until tears would be in your eyes.

The image of you on your knees in front of him drills into his memory and he knows very well that he will never be able to think of anything other than your warm wet mouth the next time he jerks himself off.

Gently you do what you think is right and elicit a rough moan from Rick.

As you look up, his head leans against the door behind him and his hands push you further toward him at the back of your head that you take more than before into your mouth.

It gives you pure satisfaction that you can make him moan your name and press your legs together to help yourself somehow as well.

Your hands move to his strong thighs and your eyes fall closed as you think of his thighs being squeezed between yours.

Briefly, you are blown away as Rick grabs you tighter by your hair and forces you to let go of him and lets him pull you up.

Swaying, you stand in front of him and his hot gaze lingers on your swollen lips, "Do you want me?"

Without hesitation, you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your head back towards him and kisses you on the lips.

Everything that has been fades into the background for Rick and he slowly pushes you further and further back.

He grabs your thighs and moans, "Jump."

You do as he asks and wrap your legs around his narrow waist.

Without breaking the kiss, he carries you to a small table in a corner and gently lowers you onto it before reaching for your waistband and you wordlessly lift your hips so he can remove your pants and panties.

Your whole body trembles as his warm hands glide over your bare skin and he can't believe you are responding to him like this.

You feel so small and soft in his hands, and in all his life he's felt this way about a woman as the moment your hands move to the buttons of his shirt and you undo one button at a time.

As you reach the bottom, he brushes the shirt off his shoulders and leans forward slightly to whisper in your ear, "Spread your legs for me."

As confident and cocky as you were before, it's all gone now and you whimper softly as the cold air brushes your damp center as you open your thighs for him to stand between.

His body seems so wide and masculine between your legs, making you feel fragile at the way he towers over you.

You must be looking at him in a certain way, because he tilts his head slightly and asks, "Is something wrong?"

He snaps you out of your thoughts and you ask hoarsely, "What?"

His big warm hands come to rest on your thighs as he says, "You're looking at me in a very unusual way."

He does speak to you, but as he does, he lets his hands move higher and higher and every thought in your head becomes absorbent cotton, causing you to speak too freely, "You're so...manly."

His right hand moves between your legs and he laughs, "Manly?"

You realize how ridiculous it sounds, but his fingers play lightly at the dampness between your legs and because of that, you just nod and push your hips toward him for more.

Shivering, you close your eyes and whimper softly, "Yeah, is one reason why I'm so...attracted to you."

"Hmmm." His head lowers a little to your face, "I'll just take that as a compliment now."

Your lips part to say something back, but at that exact moment he slides a finger inside you and your forehead falls to his shoulder.

That's all he does, and you sigh shakily, "Please."

His touch is killing you, but it's still just not enough.

You notice how his chest rises and falls before he growls, "Isn't it enough?"

Greedily, you wrap your arms around his neck and move closer, "God, no. More, please."

Gently, he pulls his finger back a little and then slides a second one inside you with it. The stretch makes you see stars at first and he murmurs, "If you ask me so sweetly."

Finally, he moves his fingers just as you need them to and cradles your hips further against his hand.

The hand that is free he places on your neck and presses your face firmly against him.

Your lips are pressed against his neck as a result and you take the opportunity to suck on it.

You lick over his pulse and you quickly realize that the hotter you make him, the more intensely he fingers you.

Extremely questionable sounds slip over your lips and he presses your face even tighter against him as he gasps, "That's good. Your pussy is so wet and all this just for me."

His name slips from your lips and you realize you're just one move away from cumming on his fingers, but right then he pulls them out and pulls you away from him by the nape of your neck.

Speechless, you stare at him, unable to believe that he has denied you your orgasm, especially as he looks down at you with extreme satisfaction and smiles cockily, "Is there a problem?"

Your lips open and close again and again before you choke out, "You can't just stop."

He lifts his hand, licks his fingers, and grins, "And how I can."

Briefly, your gaze slides to his neck on which the mark you gave him is already visible before you push your bottom lip forward far too tearfully and he immediately stares at your pout.

Before you can say anything else, he leans forward and presses his mouth hard on yours.

He takes you completely and you no longer know where is above and below.

The surface beneath you must already be glistening with moisture as he softly breathes against your lips, "I want you to cum on my cock. That's why I stopped."

His way of talking to you is new and fucking exciting and you can only whimper softly at his crude words.

Rick sees every reaction you have to his words and really has to hold back as he pulls you to the edge as gently as he can and wraps his warm hands around your thighs to wrap around his bare hips before whispering, "You think you can stay like this?"

Your eyes mirror the joyful gleam of his own, and in response you pull him further toward you with your legs so that you feel his cock right at your entrance and your insides tighten around nothing.

Rick can only hope that you don't realize how blatant you are turning him on and how many times he has imagined completely sinking into you.

Perhaps a little too impatiently, he places a hand in the small of your back and moans as he thrusts into you in his fluid motion, "This is so fucking hot."

Never has a man filled you as much as Rick does at this moment, and you stare at him with huge eyes as he takes a shaky breath, unable to believe that he actually desires you like this.

Without much thought, you pull his face to you by the nape of his neck and kiss him blindly with desire.

Rick takes it as permission to finally move inside you like he's always wanted and thrusts into you one more time, only harder and much more desperate.

You are both unable to kiss anymore, so he just presses his nose against yours and swallows every whimper and moan from you.

Your legs are wrapped convulsively around his waist and the closer Rick gets to his own release, the bolder he feels.

The thought of coming right inside you and marking you as his shouldn't feel as good as it does to him right now.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels so incredibly guilty about fucking a young woman like you senseless, because that's exactly what he's holding in his arms right now.

You're so close to your orgasm that you can barely hold yourself up and keep begging him to take you harder and telling him how good he feels.

You're practically hanging in his arms and he realizes how his heart skips a beat at the sight of you. How you give yourself completely to him and trust him.

It goes beyond the purely physical and before he can think about it further, he presses a heated kiss on your lips and gasps harshly, "Do you realize how deep I am inside you. I'd love to stay right there forever."

The control of your words slips away and you whimper, "Then do it."

You're not even really aware of your words, but Rick perceives them correctly and wouldn't have thought that those very words would make him twitch inside of you and he quickly reaches between you.

It only takes a brief touch to make you come around him, giving him his end.

Never in his life has Rick come so quickly and violently as he has inside you, and never has he felt the need to hold the woman in his arms afterwards and stroke the sweaty strands of her hair.

You're the first.

You feel like your body is no longer obeying you as you lie limp and deeply satisfied in Rick's arms, taking in his smell of wood and the soap he uses.

His body is so nice and wide and it feels like he can protect you from anything and everything.

Rick's eyes are locked on you and as forbidden and dirty as it may have felt, he doesn't regret it one bit.

Especially since he doesn't even want to imagine how you would experience it with another man than him.

Just the thought that another man could touch you the way he touched you makes him sick and at that moment it clicks in his head.

Now he can feel guilty because it's not just a physical thing for him. Not just sex.

He has a crush on a woman who could be his daughter.

Involuntarily, a "fuck" slips from his lips and you murmur softly against his chest, "What is it?"

At your soft and satisfied voice, his heart skips a beat again and he knows he's really fucked.

@positive-squid @hail-yourselves @mrsxreeves

[shigarakisbabyy]

Random fluffy headcanons of some of the pro hero boys

Gn reader <3 (yea I included endeavor because this blog is a safe space for endeavor enjoyers hehehehe)

✿

✿Shota Aizawa isn’t too big on words. He prefers actions; to show you how much you mean to him. But sometimes, when you’re laying on his chest, the sunset displayed in the window as the sky turns colors of pink and yellow, stars beginning to poke their way out, he can’t help but hold your face in his hands and mutter a soft ‘I love you’. He kisses you gently afterward; soft and sensitive, an action to back up his words. He’ll hold doors open for you, insist of grabbing you things from high shelves when you could just grab a step stool. He insists on cooking dinner for you both even if he’s dead tired and about to pass out while standing by the stove. He tries his hardest for you, makes you feel loved even if he’s not the best at expressing it through words.

✿Hizashi Yamada has always been told he’s too much. He’s always too loud, too clingy, too “obsessive”, etc. At first when he began dating you he was scared of coming on too strong; pushing you away with his big personality. He held himself back and tried to act “normal”, but it only made him unhappy. When you noticed this, he confessed the way he had been feeling. When you reassured him that it was okay; that he could be himself around you and you would never hate him for it; he slowly began to unwind. He wasn’t scared of being himself anymore. He’d show you PDA as often as you were comfortable with, cling to you when you had moments of alone time, loudly and excitedly tell you about the things he loves; and when you showed that same enthusiasm back he melted.

✿Toshinori Yagi has never been in a long term relationship. Hero work has always gotten in the way, and he’s always been scared of marrying and having villains come after the one he loves. Now that he’s retired, old, and a shadow of what he once was. He knows he’s no longer attractive; has nothing to bring to the table in a relationship. But that doesn’t stop him from yearning for you and aching that maybe you’d feel half of what he feels for you. And when you do, he’s over the moon. He’s in disbelief; completely shocked but ecstatic at the same time. He can’t wait to show you what a great boyfriend (and hopefully husband, someday) he can be, just how much love he’s been saving up and waiting to show the right person.

✿Enji Todoroki gave up a long time ago on finding true love; rightly so. He knows that what he did was terrible, and that it was a deal breaker for some people, no matter how much he’s changed. But when you come along and show him all the love he’s told himself he’ll never deserve, he gets a bit of a mindfuck. He hates himself for enjoying your touch so much, ashamed that he would ever possibly think he deserves it. But we all know he’s greedy and selfish, so he swallows those feelings down and relaxes into your warm embrace time and time again. He wants to be better for you, for his past, for his family, and for the future he hopes to have with you. He’s reminded of that every time you insist on being big spoon (despite him being triple your size) and he feels his heart flutter and ache in his chest.

✿Keigo Takami doesn’t know what a break is. He’s never been on vacation; never had a weekend to himself. Hero work and rising to the top 3 before he’s 30 has been a VERY demanding job, eating up what little free time he could ever hope of having. But when he meets you and falls in love, he starts to care less and less about all his time on the clock. He doesn’t quit completely, but he does reserve time specifically for you, and tells the commission to go fuck themselves if they have a problem with it. Sometimes he feels guilty, knowing there’s people out there that need saving and he’s not there, but all that guilt and shame drips away when he feels his body pressed against yours; see your perfect smile and hear you beautiful laugh, all for him.

[starfire213]

I’m curious as to when Neil was upset about not getting money or royalties? He talks about not being able to support something he made, but when has he ever complained about not getting money? I get what you’re trying to do, shift from something that seems trivial compared to those who have trouble just living every day, but how does attacking those trying to help those who are not able to get healthcare or basic needs met do anything to help Anyone?

Why not talk about how people can help or any resources on where they can help? It doesn’t seem like you’re actually trying to get people to help out with homelessness, you just want to make people feel guilt about trying to help others just because you think TV and movies are trivial and those working in the industry don’t deserve support like homeless people do. If you actually care about homeless people, maybe actually talk about how people can help.

If your response to that is, it’s not my responsibility to educate people on how they can help, than why do you feel the need to jump on a post that has nothing to do with what you care about? What’s the point? Just to make people feel guilty and ashamed of caring about those fighting for better working conditions for those in the industry? That doesn’t sound much like someone who cares for others, it sounds like you just like to guilt trip people.

Hey Neil! Quick question..

Do you think we'll see custom playlist for Gabriel and/or Beelzebub?

Thank you so much if you answer, bye Neil!

I don't know. They are being made by Amazon Prime Video's marketing department.

[justauthoring]

mine.

*mine: used to refer to a thing or things person belonging to or associated with the speaker.

word count: 1,707

“Betrothed?”

The words come out in stunned disbelief, your entire body freezing in disbelief.

Sat before you, Hashirama promptly avoids your gaze. He seems almost desperate to. Refusing to meet your eyes as you stare imploringly back at him, stunned in disbelief. 

But, whilst Hashirama can’t seem to meet your eye, Tobirama has never wavered from your gaze once.

“Surely, you must be joking, brother,” you call out, voice light, a laughter following your words. But it’s forced, and you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince yourself of the fact or pleading your brother for it to be true. “I mean, surely you know of my feelings for--”

“I’m not joking,” Hashirama cuts in, voice oddly sharp. He finally meets your gaze then, and his eyes are fierce as he glances back at you. “Kenji Daakura asked for your hand in marriage in the assumption that their clan would join the Hidden Leaf. They said it was an insurance of their safety and importance. And... he said he thought you to be beautiful.”

Perhaps he says it to ease you. 

It doesn’t.

“I don’t care if he thinks I’m beautiful!” You cry out, shaking your head adamantly as you narrow your eyes at your elder brother. “How could you just throw me away like that?”

“He’s hardly throwing you away, Y/N,” Tobirama’s sharp voice cuts in, pulling your eyes on him as he frowns at you deeply. “This alliance would be incredibly beneficial to the village, not only because they possess a powerful Kekkei Genkai, but because they’re a very important clan with lots of connections.”

“So, you think the village more important than your own sister?” Your eyes slide from Tobirama to Hashirama. “After everything we’ve been through as a family?”

Hashirama frowns. “I made sure he was suitable for you. That he was kind and just. And, I don’t think he’s necessarily all that unattractive either. This is no different than my marriage to Mito--”

“This is entirely different!” You cut in, no longer bothering to keep your voice down. You’re angry, beyond so, and you can feel it coarsing through your entire body. How dare they, your very own brothers sit there and talk to you like you were nothing more than a bargaining piece to be tossed around when they so felt like it. 

“You had a choice!”

“Y/N--”

“You’ve already told them I agreed, and I didn’t!” You shake your head, feeling your eyes water in distress. But you inhale sharply, desperate not to let yourself appear weak. “You didn’t even bother to ask me how I felt about it.”

“You’re the sister of the Hokage, Y/N.” Tobirama says simply. “Sacrifices must be made.”

“The Daakura have a daughter, don’t they?” You wheel to face Tobirama, “why don’t you marry her?”

He shrugs. Actually shrugs. “They didn’t ask for my hand in marriage. They asked for yours.”

A huff leaves your lips, and your anger falters as a deep set of betrayal sinks in. Tobirama you’d expect this from, but Hashirama? You’d never thought he’d... he’d ever do this to you. It was like he took no regard for how hard you’d worked as a shinobi, to be in the position you were now -- how hard you’d worked to fight along side him through everything...

Head falling, you glance to the floor, feeling your will faltering as your vision blurs.

“You know of my feelings.”

The office suddenly becomes entirely too quiet.

“You know how I feel about Madara,” you whisper, “about how he feels about me.” Meeting Hashirama’s eyes, you shake your head; “how could you?”

His lips part, but no words leave his lips. He looks guilty, ashamed, and you practically implore to change his mind, to stand up for you with your eyes - desperation sinking in. But Hashirama never does, and instead he simply turns away from you, moving to stand, before crossing the office and stopping directly before you.

His hands fall on your shoulders, squeezing; “Kenji will be good for you, Y/N. And he’ll treat you well, I promise.”

Any hope you’d had disappears with those words.

A sob threatens to wretch itself from your throat, and you’re quick to pull away from Hashirama’s grip. You spin with a speed only you’ve ever possessed, rushing out the Hokage’s office and slamming the door shut behind you as you ignore Hashirama’s desperate cry of your name.

And, as their voices grower quieter until eventually you can’t help hear them anymore, you manage to hear Tobirama say; “leave her be, brother. She’s acting like a child, not realizing what this could mean for the village.”

And your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when you realize maybe your brothers cared for you less than you thought they had.

-

You’d run straight to the Uchiha compound, tears pouring down your cheeks as you maneuvered your way through the houses to the one you knew like the back of your mind. Your thoughts are scrambled, and Madara’s name leaves your lips in a desperate, mess of a cry that has Uchiha’s passing by glancing at you oddly.

But you don’t care.

You need to see Madara.

When you reach his house, you pound on the door relentlessly, the sounds thudding heavily and so loudly you don’t even manage to hear Madara’s approaching steps from the other side of the door.

The door swings open, and you nearly fall forward had it not been for Madara’s quick reflexes. He catches you by the arms, helping you up as his expression turns from one of annoyance to one of concern, his grip moving to your waist as he pulls you inside, letting the door fall shut gently behind you. “Y/N?” He calls out softly, not wanting to startle you. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

A flood of anger floods his body at the thought of someone having hurt you, but Madara also knew you were a capable shinobi and could easily hold yourself strong against even him. This was clearly something different than being attacked or hurt...

something was very wrong.

When you fail to answer him, clutching onto the sleeves of his shirt, Madara pulls back gently, moving so he can cup you by the cheeks. He pulls your gaze upward, letting you focus your attention in on his eyes as he stares imploringly down at you, desperate for you to tell him what’s wrong - so he can fix it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hashirama...” You start, words choking slightly as Madara’s eyes narrow in confusion as the mention of his friend. “Ha-Hashirama and Tobirama want me to marry Kenji Daakura... They’ve... they’ve already told the clan head that I agree, without even telling me first. They told me I’m to be wedded to him by the end of the month.”

At first, Madara’s quiet, face blank as you stare up at him desperately to find some sort of reaction - hoping that he’d have an answer. A solution.

“I don’t want to marry Kenji,” you add desperately, shaking your head up at Madara. “I love you.”

He pulls back from you, hands leaving you as your heart pangs painfully, feeling rejected - was he mad at you? Did he blame you? Madara was cold and quiet to everyone else, but never you. He’d always let his wall fall around you, been the him nobody else but you got to see. So for him to react this way, for him not to say anything...

hurt more than anything.

“Madara--”

He wheels around to face you, stunning you silent. “I was planning on leaving. Leaving Konoha.”

And your lips part, eyes widening as shock floods your system.

“I was going to tell you,” he explains, moving back towards you and grabbing you by your arms. His grip is gentle but firm, pulling you closer against himself as he stares into your eyes and never wavers his glance. “I was going to tell you at dinner tonight, ask you to come with me... beg you to come with me because I wasn’t sure you’d want to leave your brother and the village...”

“Madara...”

“But Y/N, surely you must understand why it’s important you come with me...” He’s practically pleading you, a fact so rare for Madara that you’re stunned silent. “Your brother plans to marry you off without a thought to you or how you feel... He’s casted you aside just like he has me.”

“But--”

“I’d take care of you. I’d never let any harm come to you. Surely, you know that.”

You nod, “I do. Of course I do.”

“So come with me.” 

“I...” And the words die on the tip of your tongue, not sure what to say. You loved Madara, of course you did and of course you wanted to be with him. But leaving the village would be an act of treason, you’d be betraying your brothers and your village; the one you’d fought so hard to build. You’d be betraying everything you believe in.

But then again, hadn’t they betrayed you?

Your brothers knew of your feelings for Madara, they knew how you felt about him... and beyond that, to just sign you off to a man without even asking you first...

“Okay,” you say softly, voice but a mere whisper as you meet Madara’s gaze. “Okay, I'll come with you.”

His eyes widen, and hope floods his gaze. “You will?”

“I don’t want to be with Kenji Daakura, I want to be with you.” Leaning forward, you let your hands run through Madara’s long tread of hair, threading your fingers through the tresses as you smile up at him. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if you’d ask me to.”

Madara’s heart soars, and a bright, genuine smile floods his lips - a trait he hadn’t thought possible anymore.

Leaning forward, he presses his lips against your own, his grip on you never wavering. It was strong, secure, determined and you felt all too entirely safe in his grip, just like you always have. Madara was your reason for living, you knew that now, and you’d do anything to be with him.

Even betray your brothers and village.

[champion-prism]

Fantasies- Toshinori Yagi/All Might

Requested by anon: hello prism!! Do you write young age all might? If you do, can you write one where toshi fantasizes about f!reader and feels bad about it, but cant help it? Maybe he has her clothes or something?

Anon im coming back from the dead to write this bc guilty jerking off is my FAVOURITE thing ever.

Pairings: Young!All Might x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, guilt

Word Count: 1734

Toshinori’s life is a whirlwind right now. He’s getting major attention for his hero work, making sure to be seen publicly at least once a day, staying on call with the fire department in case there’s an emergency and his rescue services are needed, he’s attending classes at university, working out in his spare time, working with Dave on testing new tech and variations to his suit for maximum utility…

...oh, and he’s avoiding you.

Not that you know he’s avoiding you, he’s always sweet when you run into him in the common area of your four person suite, always offers to pour you a drink of lemonade, always asks how your classes are going. He just tries to make sure that he’s not out in the common area while you’re there, preferring to skulk out whenever you go back to your room, because he knows.

He knows that if he runs into you, he’s going to stare at your legs, smooth and pretty looking in those tiny, tiny shorts you’re always wearing, and he knows that if you bend down he’s going to catch a glimpse of your panties. He feels terrible about it, because he has seen your panties- not on purpose! He’s All Might, he doesn’t look up skirts or things like that, he isn’t… he isn’t a pervert.

Truth be told, he’s been rather taken with you ever since he and Dave were assigned to this suite with you and another girl. At first, he supposed he didn’t really care much- roommates had never given him trouble, female or otherwise- but you...you made him feel weird.

You had this gentle tone of voice when he introduced himself, his name softly rolling off your tongue, making him feel this oddest urge to...know what you were thinking. He wanted to talk, he wanted to brag, he wanted to lift something heavy just to show you that he could lift heavy things, even though he was aware that it would be a ridiculous thing to do. It was a ridiculous thing to think, even, as he confided in Dave later.

Dave had just laughed at him.

The urge he got when he saw you, the urge to pull you into a hug and press you flush against his whole body, he didn’t know what to make of it.

Until now.

He’s been sitting in almost darkness in his room for a while now, holding in his hands his varsity “Plus Ultra” jacket that he had put around your shoulders last night, when he’d walked back with you from a late evening lecture. You’d just been to return it, a soft smile on your lips,and now he’s sitting here, jacket in hand, breathing in your scent that was on his jacket, feminine and sweet. He slumps back to lay on the bed, still holding it close, one hand unconsciously smoothening over his crotch. He only notices when he gives himself a light squeeze- the warmth is both pleasurable and uncomfortable at the same time, his cock growing hard underneath his sweatpants.

He breathes in.

He is not a pervert.

But is this perverted? Rubbing himself over his sweatpants while breathing in your scent?

How would you feel if you found out?

You’d probably never even look at him again.

His hips buck.

He knows he should get his hand away before this escalates, but grinding into his own palm is just about his only option. He’s not comfortable with casual relationships, and he’s too busy to ever pursue a serious one, and being as busy as he is gives him almost no time to take care of himself.

He sighs as he removes his hand for good, rolling over to his side and grabbing his phone from his bedside table. He needs to distract himself, so he opens up his social media- he’s not necessarily a huge fan of it, but he knows it’s important for a hero like him to have a presence.

He scrolls a bit, almost lazily, but the universe is not on his side. Pretty soon he’s on your page, looking through your pictures with his lower lip between his teeth.

There’s this one picture of you. You’re wearing a short red dress, one that complements your body perfectly, tight in all the right places, with thin straps that show off your beautiful shoulders, ones he wants to kiss all over, bite and suck and leave marks on. His bright blue eyes fix themselves on your thighs- would you like it if he dove between them? If he licked the insides of your thighs, sucking on their softness- would you buck your hips and whine at him to kiss you where you wanted it?

His hand is between his legs again, his sweatpants uncomfortably tight, face half buried in the jacket.

He wishes he could bury his face in your pussy, instead.

The thought is so graphic that he flinches, but his hand stays.

He’s just going to press down a little, to help with the discomfort. He keeps staring at the picture, glancing at your cleavage, but going back to the hem of your dress.

Such a short dress. Hitch it up a few inches and you’d be exposed- had you been wearing those lacy pink panties he got a peek at, once?

Were you even wearing panties at all in this picture?

His mind wanders to how you lounge in your shorts in the common area, those tiny shorts that barely cover your ass, only offering a thin strip of protection to your bare cunt.

Toshi knows it’s not very plus ultra of him to commit the image of you in those shorts to memory, and he’s ashamed of what it says about his self control but he gives in, shucking off his sweatpants and kicking them away, palming himself through his boxers.

He’s just so sexually frustrated.

His cock is hard, straining against them as if threatening to break out of his boxers. He circles the covered head with his fingers, the pleasure too much but not enough.

He doesn’t want his hands. He wants your tongue, wet and pink and swirling gently on his head, pushing at the slit and lapping up his pre.

He’s not the most experienced guy on the block, but Toshi knows that just like the rest of him, he’s a bit larger than life. He wonders how much of him you’d be able to take into his mouth, groaning as he imagines your mouth sucking on his head, your soft hands pumping his length.

Tears in your eyes as you try to take him further into your mouth, but don’t even get a quarter of the way through.

His hand slides inside his underwear, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls further down your page.

Perv, he tells himself, flushing from both embarrassment and arousal. You’re just down the hall from him, sweet and unaware, and he briefly wonders what you’re doing before he begins to wonder what you look like touching yourself.

He can just imagine you, lying on your bed wearing nothing but his large, open jacket, playing with your nipples and rubbing your slit. Whose name would you whisper?

Or maybe he’d save you from a villain or something and you’d like to pay him back in kind-

Toshi shudders as he bucks his hips into his hand, chastising himself for that last thought. He is a hero, even fantasizing about something like that is unethical and abhorrent and-

-he wants to hear you moan his hero name, he wants to see you free his cock from his hero suit, run your hands over his body, look up at him with worshipping eyes-

His cock is slick with his own pre cum as he begins to pump himself in earnest, phone dropped to a side as he focuses on his own fantasies. What would you be like if he saved you from a villain attack? Would you cling to his form, subtly running your hands over his muscles, maybe nuzzling against his chest for comfort?

Would you tilt your head towards him, hoping for a kiss?

He imagines kissing you, his lips on yours, tongue exploring your mouth. Carrying you to safety as you begin to take your clothes off, grateful and adoring and looking at him as if he’s the whole world.

Fuck.

His balls are throbbing in his hand, and he gives them a squeeze, imagining you trying to suck on them, trying to cup them in your small hands, trailing kisses all over his sac and licking up his shaft.

Fuck, all he wants right now is for you to blow him. You, naked and on your knees in front of him while he sits back, completely clothed in his hero suit with only his cock out, sighing as you lick and suck and moan against his shaft, your hand occasionally moving to play with your tits or to rub your clit.

He wants to hear you call him All Might in a breathy little voice, hands clutching his thighs as you look pleadingly up at him and beg him to fuck you.

And he would fuck you, oh, he’d press you down onto the bed and tower over you, groping your body, grabbing your tits, settling between your open legs and rubbing his cockhead against your swollen lower lips-

He’s close, he can feel it, pumping and squeezing his length and taking deep breaths of the jacket you wore, imagining himself sinking slowly inside of your wet cunt until his hips meet yours.

He just knows you’d whine about how big he is.

He’d grip your thighs and fuck into your cunt, eliciting moans and screams, hitting every little spot inside your cunt, oh, he’d make you cum around his cock so many times that you’d be begging for him to stop, that he was too much and you couldn’t take it and-

Toshi comes with a muffled moan, hips jerking as he cums all over himself, his body tingling and desperate for your touch. He keeps pumping until he’s made a whole mess of himself, then lays back, gasping and panting as guilt creeps over him, making him blush even redder, even though there’s a part of his mind already formulating a plan to make his fantasies a reality.